Nostradamus Speaks Note from Me LLP

Note from me LLP:

Hardly had my finger lifted off the mouse blasting the latest Nostradamus Speaks post into the email airwaves than blowback began. 

"Good idea to stop sending this Nostradamus Speaks shit out on your email account," one idiot who shall remain unnamed wrote. "I didn't want to be in your stupid sleeper cell email network in the first place. I'm not asleep and even if I was I do not want to wake up because I am what I am and that's all that I am."

My response to Popeye is, "Go fuck yourself." I didn't ask for this job and they don't pay me enough to do it. In fact, they don't pay me anything and while my fingertips are getting tenderized Number One and Dixi or whoever the hell he/she/it is are getting an all expense paid trip to Paris. WTF!?

This is not easy. I'm retired and old and my writing and typing skills are rusty. It takes me a half hour to write a single fucking sentence because if I make a mistake some nitwit meter maid level enforcer of the grammar police will bust my balls over a comma or semicolon or you name it shit.

I have a life and a wife and dogs and an old grandma to take care of not to mention a back yard that has turned into a jungle because of all the rain. I should go out and clear the gigantic weeds from my once-beautiful succulent raised garden beds but I'm afraid a raccoon will jump out and grab me with his claw hands. They do that with dogs -- jump on their backs and grab them, hold on and then bite the shit out of them. A man should not have to be afraid of going into his own back yard. 

Then Number One sends me a new post that I am not going to publish because all he says is: "Landed in Paris! Dixi" That's a waste of valuable internet space and bytes not to mention my time. 

Thanks for letting me vent.
 LLP