there is precedent for an ex-President to run again, and even win

The White House gossip anonymously reported in the press is that the President's mood is currently swinging between "How do I keep Democrats from stealing this election from me" to "I guess I'll have to run again in 2024".

It wouldn't be the first time an ex-President ran for re-election after an intervening term.  Grover Cleveland did so in 1892 and won.  Teddy Roosevelt did so in 1912 and lost.  But back in those days, the country took time off from Presidential politics in between elections.  This time, I expect Trump to file his 2024 candidacy the day after he leaves office, and he'll just keep on with the rallies and the fundraising and the obnoxious tweets -- he'll have more time to campaign because he won't have a day job anymore.

The thought of Trump pivoting immediately toward another run for President will cause Democrats to feel a combination of nausea and exhaustion -- I'm feeling this way writing this, I bet you feel this way reading this -- Bug please stop typing, please never write about politics again!  At age 74, Trump has a nontrivial chance of dying during the next four years, but more likely he'll still be alive on Election Day 2024.  Biden will be 78 upon taking office, with roughly 1/4 chance of dying during his first term according to actuarial life tables.

Some of my Democratic friends have sounded like ungracious winners to me lately, complaining that the election was not a "moral repudiation" of Trump because Biden did not win by a larger margin.  But it will be worse than a non-repudiation, because we'll have to keep running against Trump for another four years, and there's no way to predict a winner four years in advance, so call it a 50% chance of Trump returning to the White House in 2025.  Causing his opposition to exhaust themselves is one of Trump's strategies.  He'll keep coming at us until we give up and let him back in the White House.  If he loses in 2024, look for him to keep on toward 2028.  Trump cannot be President-for-Life but he can be Presidential Candidate-for-Life, he's got a First Amendment guarantee for that.

staying dark, being dark, embracing the dark

Matt had gone along with Tate to the jail, although he had to wait outside, and although Tate had insisted on paying for the car, and paid for the car to wait to take them back.  Between that viral YouTube poll and his bonus from Chris, Tate had enough cash to feel independent for the first time, even if it wouldn't last.  They hadn't been sure how long a bail payment would take -- would Talon be able to leave with them today?  Would they have to come back tomorrow?

As soon as Matt could see Tate approaching, he knew something awful had happened.  At first Tate wouldn't even greet him, wouldn't talk, just sat in the car without moving, without touching, without telling the car where to go.  Matt decided to quietly wait with him, patiently, he's practicing submission with Tate all of a sudden, and also giving Tate space to explore all of his options as a young adult.

Matt saw some tears welling and dripping from his lover's -- his new Sir's face.

A few minutes went by, no words.

Tate ordered the car to take them back to Matt's house.  Then he finally opened up, but only fractionally, his disappointment was too large a volume to move through his vocal cords.  "Ma's lawyer told her to accept a plea deal, so she did, so I can't bail her out, so I can't fix my eyes yet."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Tate, that sucks."  Matt had known a plea deal was a likely outcome, but hadn't heard it was imminent.  There were no electronic communications with prisoners, and lawyers don't discuss details if you aren't the client.

Then Tate resumed silence.  Matt fully expected Tate to break down and collapse into him, was waiting for Tate to scream and whack him in the chest, like he usually would when life didn't go his way.  But this was too big.  Tate must be in shock.  What should Matt do?  Should he reach out and hold Tate's hand?  Matt didn't know Tate had already thrown a fit inside the visitors area, and had been physically restrained.

Better to ask.  Matt asked, as gently as he could, "What do you want me to do?  I can sit here quietly with you if you want.  Or I can ... do anything you need."

Tate shook his head, "No, let's go home."   Heartbroken, headbroken, gutbroken, Tate hadn't believed his Mom could be found guilty, it wasn't possible, and now she'd given up.  He'd gone from feeling independent for the first time in his life, to feeling there's nothing at all worth doing.  Three years.  How could they take three years of her life.  Later at the house, Tate asked to sleep by himself in a guest room, and went to lie down by himself.

The next morning, he said he wanted to rent a beach house by himself and spend a week by himself.  No indoor surveillance, he knew Alex would put up some sort of perimeter, or Chris would as his legal guardian; these billionaires would never truly allow him to get lost, but he wanted to be alone.  Let me have a week to myself.  No emails, texts, or calls.  I'll be fine, I just need time to myself.  Matt can't help but hug Tate as he gets in the car to depart.  What happened to his touchy-feely overly-emotive Tate?  Give him some time, Alex said.  You've given me time when I needed it.  Give him time.  He's not your boy anymore, he's your Sir now, you give him what he needs, what he says he needs.

more modeling of the Cum Deck

Taking a break from work in between all my meetings, I finished up a spreadsheet that tracks the status of my Cum Deck and gives me some statistics about my future.

I'm still waiting six more days until I can even draw another card!  On that day, I'll have a 10% chance of drawing an Ace (four are left) or Joker (one is left), either of which would allow me to have an orgasm that day.  But the most likely outcome is that I'll have to wait another four days to draw again.  There are about 215 days left in this deck, there's a bit of variance on this number because the Jacks and Kings can pull in or kick out an Ace of the same suit.  On average I'll get an orgasm every 62 days, but again this number can vary -- with super bad luck I'd get only one orgasm during the next 212 days, with perfect luck I'd average an orgasm every 27 days and get a total of eight more orgasms from this deck.  Maybe all the remaining orgasm cards are stacked at the bottom of the deck, maybe they are all stacked at the top, it's purely random, as is the order of the Jacks and Kings with respect to the Aces and each other.

When I am allowed an orgasm, I probably won't draw another card the next day -- when my first draw was a Joker, I waited a few weeks before I drew again because I wanted to be horny again first.  So the deck will probably last weeks or months longer than 215 days.  Probably three weeks longer for each permitted orgasm day.  So this deck could last well into next summer.  There could be occasional days that I skip because it wouldn't be a good day for an orgasm, for whatever reason.

I'll update the spreadsheet as I draw each card, to update the odds.  Right now, a 10% chance that I can have an orgasm on next Wednesday.  But it is probable I won't get to have my next orgasm until next year.

What I wasn't expecting -- this wild range of probabilities drives me nuts.  On Wednesday morning I'll be so excited that I can't wait to get up and draw a card, and the chance of an orgasm that day is real, but more likely I'll just keep going through this cycle of, "I can't believe I have to wait another [X] days!"  And there's the real menace that the Kings will kick out the Aces before I get a chance to draw them.  Drawing a King will be a sad day.

Once there are no more Jokers, Aces, or Jacks in the deck, then I'm stuck having to draw useless cards as often as possible so I can deplete the deck and start over.  At that point the total number of remaining days in the deck would be static, so long as I picked a new card whenever possible.  It's a sort of "final lockup sentence".

If I can find a new play partner, I'll give him the authority to allow me to cum while playing with him, but typically I've found most guys are happy to withhold that pleasure from me.  Well, most of the guys I'm interested in are happy to withhold that pleasure from me.

beach Tate

August 21, 2059

It took all day to select the beach house, to pack, to get there, so when Tate arrived he was ready to go to bed again, he'd have a full day of vacation from the world in the morning, and then the next morning, and the next.

He sent Matt a sign-off message, telling him not to worry, to have Alex lock up Matt's cock until Tate gets back (to keep him out of trouble -- "You only get to cum when I say from now on").  He thought of calling Alex "Chief of Cock Security" and laughed.  Tate wasn't in the mood for being a Sir at the moment, but he understood he had to put Matt to bed, so to speak, for the week, that he has a relationship obligation, even while he wants to run away from everything.  He doesn't want to dump Matt, doesn't want Matt to worry, but doesn't want to worry about Matt either.

Also, "I love you.  Now leave me alone :-)"

He'd brought a printer so he could compose his own paper letter to Ma.  He could proofread it via the OCR software on his phone, and then call a courier service.  Expensive way to deliver a letter, but he was burning through cash this week, no point in saving it.

Three years.  They'd give her credit for the time she's been locked up awaiting trial, but it would still be two more of his birthdays, he'd be 19, he'd have been an adult for over a year without her around.  He was feeling, not the hope of a short absence, but the finality of a long one.  She'd tried to explain the logic of the plea bargain, but that's when he started yelling.  OK, stop reliving that conversation and the orderlies or cops or whoever grabbing him and holding him until he calmed himself.  Stop it.  Calm yourself now.

He was thinking about how grown-up he was pretending to be, suddenly deciding to vacation on his own with his own money.  Thinking about getting a job as a spy, traveling the world, sending postcards and cash back home to Ma, meeting smart and sexy spy guys.  Hah.  But he was also feeling vulnerable, not sure whether he'd survive a week by himself, with only his brain and his heart to keep him company.  He could listen to music and audiobooks.  Go get his feet wet and listen to the waves.  He'd update his YouTube channel, see how many of the new viewers would stick around without the media hype over his poll.

He thought about getting a dog.  He thought about having a kid.  He thought about going to college.  He thought about Matt.  He thought about Marco, the impossible role he'd played for Marco, the heartbreaking role he'd played, and maybe never spending time with Marco again.  He thought about all the dead and wounded in Vancouver, and about how things could've been even worse.  The news said there were orphaned pets needing adoption, he thought about whether he would take care of a dog and could order Matt to adopt one with him -- nah, probably not the type of thing you order somebody to do.  Although it seemed Alex had ordered Matt to become Tate's' boyfriend, and then Tate's boy.  Alex would probably have ordered Matt to get a dog, if Alex wanted a dog, or if Alex thought Matt needed a dog.

He's already thinking that a big part of being a Sir is taking care of your boy, it's not just dom dom dom.  But now who takes care of Tate?  Does Tate have to take care of himself?  Grow all the way up?  Maybe get a job now instead of relying on the billionaires to pay for his tuition?  Like Ma said, "our own money".  She knows how to avoid becoming too obligated.

Getting sleepy on a strange bed, with a strange thermostat -- it seemed imprecise but not broken.  Started having a dream about Matt getting angry about something, but can't remember what it was after shaking awake.

If he's not happy staying here all week he can always go back early, maybe get 50% back on the unused nights.

Now having a dream about being a landlord of a beach house, and people not paying their rent.  Then about his YouTube followers voting that he breaks up with Matt, like he'd ever put such a big decision to a vote again.  Except they were right this time, he's not getting the implants.  They would make life too complicated.  He doesn't need vision, not with seeing-eye apps.  Hey, he could get a helper dog, now dreaming about how he'd meet somebody on the beach who has a dog, and he'd follow them home, and they'd grill some hot dogs, and briefly grill the buns, just ketchup no other condiments, and the dog would jump up and grab his hot dog from him, zzz.