My blood moon photography didn’t turn out because I didn’t. Come midnight fatigue, familiarity and spotty weather conspired to send this exhausted W2 drone  to bed. It’s just as well; if you’re not doing consider sleeping. In six months I’ll get another shot at photographing a blood moon. For the nonce, I’ll muse on menstrual moon madness. Exactly what Earth shaking event does this terrible tetrad foretell?
Some cry Ukraine I say are you insane Others holler The demise of the dollar Moon free bleeding We're not needing Someone on the Internet Is wrong
But now, in the blood moon discharge, it’s clear a fate worse than community organizers awaits a pummeled public. Behold, Pussydent Hildabeast,  a rough nagging crone, her “hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”
 W2 is a basic IRS tax form in the United State. I calculate my taxes by hand. I sometimes do the arithmetic on paper just to increase the pain and rage. Taxation should hurt and in my case it does. Taxes are by far the largest “line item” in my budget, but what the heck, lesbians on welfare need free birth control.
 A Pussydent is a metaphorically ball-less president and a Hildabeast is Hillary Clinton.