Dear Dems, when someone with whom you disagree or otherwise dislike dies, this is all you have to do. That's it. Otherwise shut the fuck up. When Donald John Trump is more gracious than you...
No we won't be watching the Charlie Kirk memorial today. Damn it man, It's Sunday in the autumn. What the hell do you think we're watching today?
Stroock's Books reader(s) already know Kier Starmer is a wanker. He's recognizing a 'Palestinian' state because of, ah, certain demographic trends within the UK. Sorry, Kier. Britain is now one of 140 nations to do the same. Recognizing 'Palestine' means nothing. Britain sucks and everyone in the YooKay knows it. We're not optimistic. Wait, only 13 percent of Britons support Kier's recognition of a Palestinian state? Maybe we should lighten up.
The Things:
Ennui and indifference overtook Stroock's Books yesterday (hence no post) and remain today as we ponder the awful abyss that is World War 1990: Thatcher's War. This is a novel from which we fear we'll never break free. Damn the Irish and their Troubles.
Baaah. We swipe at the air and drink our grog.
The first short story for the next nuke novel (When the Bombs Stopped?) is almost done. We have another idea for a story. It's a sad one. Sad but necessary. We researched Soviet Salyut space station for story about Cosmonauts during/after the war....comrades. WtBS is 8,000 words.
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