Sometimes, I worry that the isolation of quarantine is making me lose my grip on sanity. Then, I go online and see that everybody else in the world is losing their goddamn minds, and it's been the only warm solace I've found in the last few months other than that Michael Jordan documentary and whiskey.
Kevin Stitt has always come off to me like a maniac with the smooth brain of an age-stunted junior high baseball coach, so it shouldn't come as a surprise how he has been bungling the pandemic by leashing himself to the president and salivating at the thought of people dying in exchange for his rich friends to be able to reopen their Ski-Doo dealerships.