When you think about it, two o'clock in the morning, after a nearly five hour nap, is the perfect time to light up a good cigar. Avo Uvezian Syncro Fogata (Nicaragua) robusto. Ecuadorian Habano wrapper. With a glass of Scotch and water in the kitchen. It's a good thing I am connected to the tobacco industry, because otherwise I'd have to rob and kill residents of Tiburon for my stogie funds. Which, upon reading the news, really does seem like an excellent idea.
Make America Great Again: kill rich bastards.
Sure, I like many of the rich folks with whom I regularly come in contact. But other than stogies and sometimes an appreciation for Shakespeare, we have so little in common, and live in such vastly different worlds, that they are foreigners to me. We aren't part of the same society, and their experiences and mine so seldom overlap, that I find it nearly impossible to consider them worth preserving.
When torch and pitchfork time comes, baby ...
"Most Americans are whiny bastards too cowed to kill the Republicans necessary to improve their miserable lives."
-----Milo Yanniopoulos
Trump. Children held in cages. Republican candidates encouraging racism. Mitch McConnell and his Taiwanese mafia bitch wife. Paul Ryan, the NRA and tax give-aways. Christians. Supreme court. Ice, especially at airports and along the Texas border. EPA roll-backs. The FDA and their Puritanical anti-tobacco crusade. Sarah Sanders whining like a little bitch. Russian contacts. Unaffordable medical care. White women calling the cops. Blinkered dingos in the hinterlands thinking this is their parents' America.
The American Dream is dead.
Damned fine cigar.
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1 comment:
Torch and pitchfork time have come and gone. And, given the fact we can't collectively agree that a person with a penis should use a men's room, is proof we deserve to be sacked and burned.
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