Streaming audio from your phone is the best way to hear anything for the profoundly hard of hearing. Best way to talk to me is call my iPhone. Face to face, I can understand you reasonably well if I'm reading your lips, but the sound quality is not so great.
Well, say they don't like Blacks. (it's just a dim sensation.) Say they don't like being called racist but they don't like Blacks but don't think that's because they're racist. Then I think there's only one possible explanation-- those Black people are racist. And that's why there's trouble between the races that's holding one side back.
It doesn't matter, by the way, if he decides to 'declassify' something because he can't do it on his own as he claims. And 2, even if he did, the facts relating to somebody's nuclear capability would still be on the pieces of paper! Right? I keep wanting to point these things out to my computer screen but it makes no difference so I'm bringing it up here to you wonksters.
What on earth got into him? Maybe he's hoping to salvage something for his second century on earth, serving the "Trump kids" in their declining years. He may be planning to lose weight and be a handome young vegetarian stripling and go to law school all over again! Not that he's been delusional so far or anything.
A lovely thing was how, when Vince Foster died, and those appealing people decided to claim he'd had an affair with Hillary and so then he'd had to be killed, to make it stick they made his adolescent daughter testify that what they claimed was true, which she couldn't do, because it wasn't. Could anything be worse ever? Since it was completely a lie, and he'd been utterly depressed beforehand?
I worked at 150 Spear St. Our office was on the top floor. The elevator was so slow I could read most of his daily column on the ride up. Herb Caen taught me what a true San Franciscan is supposed to be.
Did they find any classified documents ?!
Or stairs.
Streaming audio from your phone is the best way to hear anything for the profoundly hard of hearing. Best way to talk to me is call my iPhone. Face to face, I can understand you reasonably well if I'm reading your lips, but the sound quality is not so great.
Did luv Herb Caen.
Well, say they don't like Blacks. (it's just a dim sensation.) Say they don't like being called racist but they don't like Blacks but don't think that's because they're racist. Then I think there's only one possible explanation-- those Black people are racist. And that's why there's trouble between the races that's holding one side back.
It doesn't matter, by the way, if he decides to 'declassify' something because he can't do it on his own as he claims. And 2, even if he did, the facts relating to somebody's nuclear capability would still be on the pieces of paper! Right? I keep wanting to point these things out to my computer screen but it makes no difference so I'm bringing it up here to you wonksters.
What on earth got into him? Maybe he's hoping to salvage something for his second century on earth, serving the "Trump kids" in their declining years. He may be planning to lose weight and be a handome young vegetarian stripling and go to law school all over again! Not that he's been delusional so far or anything.
A lovely thing was how, when Vince Foster died, and those appealing people decided to claim he'd had an affair with Hillary and so then he'd had to be killed, to make it stick they made his adolescent daughter testify that what they claimed was true, which she couldn't do, because it wasn't. Could anything be worse ever? Since it was completely a lie, and he'd been utterly depressed beforehand?
Circled the wrong part.
Moral bankruptcy?
In crayon, no doubt.
Or gold sharpie.
I had no idea. As I said, my Dad wears a hearing aid, but he hates his iPhone, so I've never heard of such a thing up til now.
Useful info for the future!
Perhaps it's a HUGE fanny-pack stuffed with nuclear secrets...
Dunno. Russian agents are trained to be tough...
Isn't Chump's usefulness about over? He's become far more of a liability than an asset. And if he can no longer launder dirty Russian money...
I worked at 150 Spear St. Our office was on the top floor. The elevator was so slow I could read most of his daily column on the ride up. Herb Caen taught me what a true San Franciscan is supposed to be.