An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

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While walking along a trail in Arches National Park over the weekend I happened to look up as a flock of birds was soaring overhead. The way they look in this brief moment—still and frozen—is how I feel in my dreams sometimes, at least when I can remember them when I wake up. Floating over the ground, weightless, tied to nothing, watching everything below.

And then I ducked. Because bird poop.

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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