The good news is I can't sing, so there will be no singing of the blues. The bad news is I have a stylus and no shame to use it.
We're running a bit low on disapproval, so it's time to get the old begging bowl out.
A little bit of arting goes a long way in coping with the gastro-emotional stasis that set in a month and a half ago. Be it a daily post of disapproval, an episode of bun-fiction or an occasional portrait of Mr. Bun, it forces me to focus on what we have in common. For me, that seems to be the only way to go through the tectonic changes taking place in the world these days. In the end, we're all in the same burrow. Together, we shall overbun.