Should they by chance forget either me or my opponent, this grand race for the soul of the Free World, then surely, the key will have gotten rusty and fell off the wall.
"I have a bald man to pay our bills in the future."
"We need to dramatize America's failing infrastucture. Demolish more schools across the country."
In the citadel of the mind, these things purse not through the fog, but instead, make a kind of lampoon-fodder for Attic writing, in between bouts of chasing women and tending to my pets, sundry other blog posts from realms untold.
I'm literally sweating under my titties right now, and that with a fan pointed at me. If I took a bath this afternoon, the good would be gone pretty quick, and I would need a good freshen-up re-bath before going next.
All I know for sure, when Donald finally leaves 1600, make sure somebody counts the silverware before he is off the premises, because we might have to look in his pockets and coat.
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