TROPICAL SHOWERS

Now, I could detail how the retired judicial person interrupted his long whiny harangue about Kamala Harris and how Trump has admirable, admirable! ethics, a very moral man indeed, to go to the bathroom. Where he spent too much time because of his prostate. It was the employee bathroom. Dude, get out. Get your darned prostate fixed. Or tied.
Oh for crapsakes, clench! Pretend you're at a baseball game!
And cease that incessant bitching.

To a large degree he resembled Beaker from the Muppet Show.

When he returned and resumed his squawking I tuned him out.

Some bourgeois dingos in the suburbs are perpetually peeved at nearly everything, dislike progress, feel that they were cheated, CHEATED! because no one worships their idols or their asses, what is this world coming to with all those melanin types getting ahead, and dammit, why is it always raining on their parade? So, as I said, I shan't detail it.

If it's raining on your parade, you very likely deserve it.
Maybe you should get yourself inside?
How stupid are you?


He probably wouldn't move out of the way of a speeding truck because why should he?
It's his right! The principle of the thing! And somebody should do something!

His current wife probably married him because of retirement benefits and life insurance.
Yeah, okay, he smells bad, but he does shower occasionally.
His parents taught him how.



Some professions in the United States are largely populated by unmitigated swine.
All branches. Vulgarians, crass oppurtunists, and illiterates.
Amuck-runninng heathen.




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