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Deep down, shamefully, I wanted it to be true. I needed it to be another useless example of just how ugly and vulgar Trump and his followers could be. Then when I saw his face—Jussie Smollett’s face—saw that the distinctive black and blue hues of hate had left no stain and in their place were surface scrapes as from paper cuts or the nails of newborns, that sinking feeling came over me.
Especially when no evidence materialized. Especially, since, like hoes, there’s a camera on every pole.
Turns out Luca spent the summer abroad and he and Zoey, to stay close, Snapchatted and Instagrammed each other for 3 months. Over that time, the excitement to see her new boo grew, and Zoey was anxious for the start of school (or maybe something freaky). Having arrived before Luca, Zoey was waiting in her dorm room (wine, brie cheese, and candles a-flicker) when there was knock on the door. Luca! It has to be Luca!
Naww.
Guess who’s coming to Ohio? LaMelo Ball the youngest son of the Ball family is coming to Ohio to “train like a champion.” In the coolest reception ever, a LeBron-James-esque billboard now looms over I-90 to welcome LaMelo to the Buckeye state.
The oppression of True Thompson, like a hairline that has finally grown in, has brought me out of hiding. I just couldn’t sit still another day, fingers motionless, avoiding the keyboard with its missing letters, waiting for someone to come to the rescue of a blackish baby from its whitish mother.