OK, I’m bent, twisted, more than a bubble off plumb.
I know this about myself, and I came to terms with it long ago.
But I can’t be the only person who finds this “dose of reality” amusing.
The House managers walk the articles of impeachment over to the Senate.
Seems they’ve found a king who has got shit all over ’im.
Gosh. Il Douche won’t mount any sort of defense as the House Judiciary Committee contemplates articles of impeachment.
Imagine my surprise.
I don’t suppose it has anything to do with knowing that he’d come out looking like a purse dog that went three rounds with the Hound of the Baskervilles.
No, better he should stay all bunkered up, hiding behind various knaves, minions, and varlets, tweeting like a hyperactive budgie, and wait until The Turtle can run interference for him in the Senate, where he has the home-field advantage.
I’d like to have the lip-balm and breath-mint concessions at that ass-kissing contest. A couple days of the big money and I could retire, is what.
“You got to know the right people,” indeed. Starting with a good copy editor. Or at least one who isn’t on drucks.
It has been said of a poor marksman that he couldn’t hit a bull in the butt with a banjo.
This dude went for the head shot and only nicked a horn.
Speaking of colloquialisms, this is not what they mean when they say, “Fuck with the bull and you get the horn.”
Mad Blog Media 