Sorry. This one’s way personal.
Dear She Who Must Not Be Named…
I’ve actually managed to pull out of the nose-dive you tried to put me in when you took off with my son for a convicted felon that was in prison at the time. You know, the guy that cheated on you repeatedly during your high school career and after you took off.
You can troll my business’ Substack all you want, but the facts are stubborn things.
You can lie all you want, but I’m better than you and your entire racist, inbred family.
F*** all the way off. When you get there, keep going.
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We are the first-ever Psychedelic Zionist book publisher. We offer nonfiction, novels, and poetry. Our Substack features cultural essays, political polemics, satire, podcasts and other assorted experiments from a diverse group of writers.
Really sorry that she's still hurting you, my friend. Again, I've got your back.