Yesterday, I stumbled onto the White House Press Briefing in progress on television, Press Secretary Sean Spicer at the podium.

There are a number of topics upon which I am apparently completely bipolar.

For example, whereas I am famished for manners and civility, a fantasy I have begun to entertain is having someone in the press corps who has an unassailable, credentials-heavy, thriving journalistic career, sacrifice that career by barking something at Mr. Spicer to make him explode.  Literally.

I’ve chosen a Greek curse (though I have since learned that its origin is Arabic) gifted to me fifty years ago: ‘I defecate on the vagina of your mother’.

For the sake of delicacy, I have softened the translation here somewhat…

I wonder if — like bringing poor Tinkerbell back to life by chanting ‘I do believe in faeries, I do believe in faeries’ — I can bring this about with chanting.

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