I remember when it started. All those files were supposed to come out. It was guaranteed and it had been promised over, over, all up and down the campaign trail. Bondi was smiling. It was evident that she hadn’t yet been told whatever she got told. It was the same with Patel. He was going great guns and suddenly, all the bullets went out of his gun, and that terrerrist thing got hot and heavy again, and they both ran off in two directions at once, looking for something THEY KNEW they would never find.
Did they see it and take it upstairs? Did the man upstairs come downstairs to tell them? Did the dish really run away with the spoon? They were going to find that out too, and then the bag of coke disappeared and they went sailing along on Moonlight Bay with Winken, Blinken, and Nodded Out.
Trump was rocking and rolling to The Village People. He was going to change… The… World, and now? Now he is a travesty of everything he was supposed to stand for. He is literally chasing Satanyahu around the table, begging him for that all important rogering he was promised by The Chosen Dick-head. Ah! I wonder if he dreams of Proust much? I heard that Proust doesn’t dream at all these days, but that’s just street talk.
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