Title : "If you, like me, had been compartmentalizing a Trump 2024 run for mental-health purposes, I’m sorry to break it to you..."
link : "If you, like me, had been compartmentalizing a Trump 2024 run for mental-health purposes, I’m sorry to break it to you..."
"If you, like me, had been compartmentalizing a Trump 2024 run for mental-health purposes, I’m sorry to break it to you..."
"... but he looks like a man who is definitely running for president in 2024. His CPAC speech this weekend was a rude awakening as to both his intentions and the strength he would bring to that campaign."There was no bigger roar from the crowd during the speech than during the following section, and there was no bigger shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face than the one that came following the roar:
I ran twice. I won twice and did much better the second time than I did the first getting millions and millions of more votes than in 2016. And likewise getting more votes than any sitting president in the history of our country by far. . . . And now we may have to do it again. We may have to do it again.
Shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face.... We need to get rid of Trump and return the GOP to the more civil, mature adults in the party. You know, the ones who say things like "shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face."
I became immersed in the poetry of "shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face." Because if Trump is the one doing the eating — shit-eating — then why is he simultaneously a food substance — burnt toast. Does food eat? I began to think of the shit as a Nutella-like spread for toast. Do you picture the shit-eater eating it plain, like pudding, or using some medium, as with the legendary shit sandwich? Did you ever think deeply about the shit sandwich? Was it on toast? Was the toast burnt?
I'm so glad the excitable Tim Miller, from the illustrious Bulwark, gave me something to think about, this Monday morning. Some days, your food for thought is a shit sandwich... on burnt toast.
The man speaking to an adoring crowd at CPAC... owns an entire new crop of succubus surrogates.... His hands may be tiny and soft, but his grip on the party is pretty tight.
Let's see those hands:
There was no bigger roar from the crowd during the speech than during the following section, and there was no bigger shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face than the one that came following the roar:
I ran twice. I won twice and did much better the second time than I did the first getting millions and millions of more votes than in 2016. And likewise getting more votes than any sitting president in the history of our country by far. . . . And now we may have to do it again. We may have to do it again.
Shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face.... We need to get rid of Trump and return the GOP to the more civil, mature adults in the party. You know, the ones who say things like "shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face."
I became immersed in the poetry of "shit-eating grin on his burnt-toast face." Because if Trump is the one doing the eating — shit-eating — then why is he simultaneously a food substance — burnt toast. Does food eat? I began to think of the shit as a Nutella-like spread for toast. Do you picture the shit-eater eating it plain, like pudding, or using some medium, as with the legendary shit sandwich? Did you ever think deeply about the shit sandwich? Was it on toast? Was the toast burnt?
I'm so glad the excitable Tim Miller, from the illustrious Bulwark, gave me something to think about, this Monday morning. Some days, your food for thought is a shit sandwich... on burnt toast.
The man speaking to an adoring crowd at CPAC... owns an entire new crop of succubus surrogates.... His hands may be tiny and soft, but his grip on the party is pretty tight.
Let's see those hands:
Thus articles "If you, like me, had been compartmentalizing a Trump 2024 run for mental-health purposes, I’m sorry to break it to you..."
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