
Tickling those … ivories. Wait, what did you think I was gonna say?
Man, they just can’t keep a piano player in this whorehouse, can they?
Doesn’t seem to have hurt business, though. And maybe Jared can try singing whenever he’s not serving up that old-fashioned love. Give those rug burns a chance to heal, son.
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Tags: Hope Hicks
This entry was posted on March 1, 2018 at 6:06 am and is filed under Agitprop, Casual snark, Deep political thought. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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March 1, 2018 at 7:25 am |
Seems like the cabinet, present and past members of the Orange Sphincter’s (thanks Colbert) gang, might be singing in a new venue.
March 1, 2018 at 7:46 am |
Kevin Drum is keeping an informal body count. How many tell-all books do you think the publishing industry can support?
March 1, 2018 at 8:16 am |
If the zombie Miller and mouthpiece Conway leave, then you know. And if Beauregard bails, then the indictments can’t be far behind.
March 1, 2018 at 11:00 am |
I just had a vision of Kellyann Conway in a cheer leaders uniform with pom-poms chanting “2, 4, 6, 8 who do we appreciate”. It was disturbing.
March 1, 2018 at 7:26 am |
…Hopeless Hicks
March 1, 2018 at 7:41 am |
Har-de-har-har!