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![]() Emily FlakeThe New Yorker |
“Can’t we just wait a few years and let the ocean come to us?”
“Oh, it’s not ashes—just too many facepalms watching that speech last night.”
“So, in all the nation’s founding documents, there’s not one single mention of a safe word?”
“Follow that car! Unless it goes into the congestion-pricing zone!”
“I mean, it’s not really new anymore, and it sure as hell isn’t happy, but you too, I guess.”
“Apparently, my mother’s upgrading the holiday newsletter to a paid Substack.”
“You’re just mad ’cause now you’ll never get to see how hot Hunter would’ve looked in an orange jumpsuit.”
Hey, it’s Kamala. Should we do a tiny insurrection? Quick poll: Y/N? No worries if not!
“This dissociative state is self-care.”
“Sure, but you might want to wait a few months.”
“A high of ninety-five, but with the panic index we’re looking at a RealFeel of eleventy squillion.”