Dear drooling globalist spewbucket,
Haven’t you done enough damage to America, you hateful, petty traitor? Why don’t you effing die, you miserable piece of shit? That way you can be reunited with your father, Satan, and the two of you can celebrate a lifetime of service to pure evil.
I can only hope your every waking moment is pure agony, until that moment when you die — and I hope THAT moment has you curled up in the fetal position under a table, naked, pale, and covered with cold sweat.... your mouth open in a twisted, silent scream, your eyes bugged out in terror, as you twitch in a puddle of your own sick.
To conclude: I feel sorry for your brave, courageous brain tumor, that it has to suffer by being infected with malignant John McCain.
Love,
Laz
Hahahaha, well, that’s one approach...
Let the man die in peace, and face his Maker (the “peace” may well instantly ecaporate), as you will one day also.