Let’s not equibblecase: the yesmads have it. A Litmess Test.
By P. B. Noseby
Let’s not equibblecase: the yesmads have it. The Republicanned bed felons are accomplicing the downreich scamdalous, Exxoneraiding their eight hundred pound gorilla from charges of chimpeachment as pretty mitch uncovers there’s more in bad with him than a few prosticute Russians.
As Lipsy Grabs eludes it best, quoting the greased palm motto of his Palm Motto State, “Dumb Spiro Spiro,” his orbskewered illusion to Nixon’s oily-headed vice-precident, like a late date in a dollar shirt, too dead to get kremlinated for conspirocy or Tex fogs. Doublessly Lipsy’s sacred code for, “This might goad without saying, but white men are still in charge.”
As to our present Amarrogant Precident, remumble what the Mr. Bill Shatsmear once absorbed when sad things were sad in motion: “Life is a tale told by illiterates, fools with sounds of farcy, signifaking nutthinks.”
So let the idiot speak! He’s a larger than life sentence like Humping Trumpy sad on his wall, and every dimmergod hates to be eggnored. Eventfolly Nature will runt its curse.
In the mean times, invincible farces are at work like sagging socks and gravity. What Moscow up, Moscow down. Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.