Lone Earpiece on the Grassy Knoll

As if an enormous number of the events that went on in the latter portions of the previous year had not already set my spidey-senses tingling, I'm apprehensive that much of our technology has become sentient (Lord knows fewer and fewer of us are and nature abhors a vacuum (and isn't too fond of a dust-buster either come to think of it)) and having seen what we are capable of, and more on point, what we seem to be so good at doing to one another, may have decided to take charge.

Don't blink in disbelief, hear me out; actually, it's very important that we think about our auditory senses when looking at the menace and mayhem our machine may be readying for us. I don't mean to sound like the Can You Hear Me Now guy channeling Paul Revere, though they do have the same first names. Coincidence? I think not. What?

My point exactly. Hear me out. Seriously.

Last February we had a lounge version of what went became an unpresidented, record-breaking, yuuge success (bigly), the Donald Trump Mainstream Media Soft-Shoe Shuck and Jive Show. And then, just last week we had a diva disaster.


And the angels asked Lee Harvey Earpiece, "do you hear what I hear?"

You're impatient, I know. "I can't see your point!" you say; here let me take off my hat. Better?
Consider this: Both of the folks in the preceding paragraph, despite appearances or what you may believe to be true, are victims. Yeppers, they sure are and not just because they both say so, repeatedly and profusely though it certainly doesn't hurt. Check this out. And don't forget this.

Do not say, or think, 'that's unheard of!' Do not even go there, pilgrim. Victim-shaming! We're better than that, or we should be. Somewhere in kick starter campaign not yet posted will be a one-size fits all (because the alibis sure do) crew-neck OR V-neck tee with I'm a Victim, Too emblazoned across the front. Specifically and specially designed to make your ears look small like....well, nevermind.
-bill kenny