Crickets

 Twitter is boring.  Ever since Trump was banned from quit the site, nobody goes there anymore.  He said so.  Joe Biden has a Twitter account but he uses it to wish people a happy lunar new year and express concern for Americans coping with natural disasters and stuff like that -- who cares?  Not a single message from the White House predicting the imminent demise of the New York Times or threatening to annihilate everyone in North Korea or warning the world about windmill cancer.  B-O-R-R-I-N-G.

So the Trumpites are heroically stepping into the social media breech to keep us from dying of ennui.  On Friday, something called Newsmax brought us something called Greg Kelly complaining that the Bidens' dog Champ looks like he's "not well cared for" -- in fact, "from the junkyard."  An insult to the dignity of the house where mice were falling out of the ceiling not long ago, and Trump was serving Big Macs in the original Styrofoam.  According to Google, Champ is twelve years old.  Until a few months ago he lived in a shelter, which is basically canine death row.  And like men who are exonerated and released from prison after decades (and always seem to be African American for some reason) he's a little disoriented.  His friend Major is still teaching him not to bark at the Secret Service and not to flinch when people take his picture.  He doesn't know he's being used by humans like Greg Kelly to distract from the plight of dogs with uncaring owners, like Snowflake Cruz.

I am also learning not to flinch, when the newsreader says "the President" or when a graphic of a tweet appears.  It's wonderful to be bored instead of nauseated.  I know I won't see a grotesque clown snogging a flag or praising a dictator.  When Joe Biden re-introduced us to the world last week, I think my tail wagged a little.  I love the sound of crickets.