Last night I went to view the fireworks in Vancouver B.C. You couldn't get away from the stink. There were over 300 000 people there and naturally the teenagers had to lite up. Worst of all, they were smoking it on a public bus. The bus driver pulled over on the freeway in the middle of nowhere at 1:00 am and threatened to kick everyone on the bus. Not that I blame him, having a doped up bus driver is not an ideal way to travel.
So I'm walking in the Loop early Tuesday morning when the breeze carries a strong scent to me and nearly stops me in its tracks because it's so . . . unexpected.
I know that aroma. I can't figure out where it's coming from--but I know that scent. When you smell this particular smell you immediately recognize the smell for the smell that it is, even if you're not someone who participates in the activity that creates the smell in the first place.
I'm talking about Hillary Clinton, b!tch, slut , whore, bride of satan, wife to Beelzebubba.