What is that smell?
Why, it’s the sound of millions of peoples senses of self-righteous indignation, their mode of instant social sorting, their handy form of smug virtue-signaling, and that little knot of terror that they cultivated and nursed into their worldview, slowly smoldering into ash:
A whole lot of Merriam Park harpies are feeling bereft today. Go easy on ’em.
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