Illegal Foreign Object

I just coughed up something that can only be described as alien in nature. Pretty sure it had appendages—I swear I saw a tiny, mucus-like paw cling to the edge of the drain before the force of the sink water pried loose its evil grip.

That’s a long way around the mountain to say that I’m sick. As such, I’m on the couch catching up on some TV shows I discarded a few years ago. Halfway through S.6 of Billions now—I really dig several of the characters and storylines, but the endless string of similes is as nauseating as our freshly oranged Prez in a crotchless tanga.

See what I did there?

We get it, Billions scribes, you like basketball, the Boss, and pro wrestling, but I refuse to believe that every last one of your characters is sticking pins in a Reggie Miller voodoo doll and scream-singing “Born To Run” on the way to a WWE house show.

Or, maybe this ramble is all a byproduct of the nighttime cold meds I drank after lunch…