Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Reader, Be Told
In Which Our Intrepid Blogger Delivers a Warning
The old election sign by the side of the road once read
BERNIE
2020
but, bent by the weight of the wet, heavy February snow, it now reads instead
RNIE
2020
Naturally, as I drive by, my witch's eye automatically reads
HORNIE
2020
Old Hornie for President? I find myself thinking. F*ck, I'd vote for Him any day of the Moon.
My friend, the Craft will change the way that you see things, change it forever.
Reader, be told.
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The snow, like the truth, has been burying the most stubborn of Trump signs still scattered around our village.