“‘Tis MAYDAY 1560. That is to say; it’s been that many days since I — the Republican, chosen one, descended, as if — from Heaven.
And Heaven only knows what’s happening on Urantia. And what’s happening to counteract what’s been really, surreally happening.
“‘Tis MAYDAY 1560. Heaven only knows what’s happening on Urantia. And what’s happening to counteract what’s happening.
My legacy may not be of Twitter Diplomacy and prizes, Nobel. Still, I must cynically warn ye about, what has, surreally, been happening.”
“MAYDAY 1560. 1560 days since the loose cannon that is me — dove, feet-first into politics, with an outsized, titanic, cannonball
— splash. Since then I’ve been humbled. Then uplifted. My legacy may not be of Twitter Diplomacy and Nobel Prizes, after all.”
“MAYDAY 1560. I’ve prided myself on my genius. And my stability. But in fraternal soirées, lunar, I’ve been humbled. Then, uplifted. My legacy
may not be of Twitter Diplomacy and Nobel Prizes. Alternatively, Twitter Diplomacy and Nobels may be, my legacy.”
“MAYDAY 1560. My legacy may be, Twitter Diplomacy and Nobel Prizes. Twitter Diplomacy and Nobel Prizes still well may be
— my legacy. No testimony of Bolton’s shall undermine my defenses, and sham and suspiciously, fabricated, legal … theories.”
“MAYDAY 1560. Bolton’s testimony may be superfluous. It’s not that John Bolton’s lying. It’s just that, even if — it happened that way,
so what? My legacy may include Prizes for peace and for literature, for the co-authors of Twitter Diplomacy’s, MAYDAYS.”
“Just days ago Adam warned ye that the truth is going to come out. The only question is: Do ye want to hear it now? Do ye want to know,
now? Just days later Bolton drops a deep state, bombshell. John says I tied Ukraine aid to an investigation … of Joe.”