The Quiet Damage: QAnon and the Destruction of the American Family

by Jesselyn Cook

it was how every night, at least once—even if it was 3 a.m. and 20 degrees out—he would get out of bed, shuffle across the room in his boxers, open the window, and stick his butt out to fart just so she wouldn’t have to smell it.

May this kind of love never find me