A Letter to my Friend

Dance like the maiden, laugh like the mother, think like the crone.

Jodi Shaw

Oct 17, 2021

Dear Jenny,

I received approximately 3, 333 emails right after I appeared on Tucker Carlson that first time. I do not remember how I knew to respond to yours, when there were so many I simply could not respond to, but I did, and then you wrote back, and then we were officially a thing.

Thank you for finding me. Thank you for somehow knowing I needed a friend. Thank you for hearing me roar. Thank you for sprinkling some reason on to the ice cream cone of my life.

You have the kind of mind that tugs and tugs and will not let go of something until it has explored every possible angle of it . . . at which point you promptly spit it out and move on to the next thing. I love that about you.

You are ahead of me on politics and social trends, and in general just know a lot more about what the hell is going on in the world. You are not afraid of BitChute (although I do wish you would use Twitter a little more).

I love how you are always finding things to remind me of just how inventively evil and weird humanity can be.

Like with the Sissy Hypno Porn — I mean, how in the living fuck did you stumble on to something like that?

I had never thought about abortion in that way before, and I didn’t even know what populism was until you explained it to me.

You’re smart, and you’re funny.

I mean, I’m no dummy, but your lens is so different from mine. I love traversing the geography of your mind; it’s like taking a ride on a heat-seeking missile powered by an extremely smooth bullshit detector. Every time we speak on the phone (usually at 2am my time / 7am your time) I say to myself: “damn, we should record this!”

So here we go, two Gen X lassies entering the phase of life where the intensity of motherhood gives way to wisdom.