Dump the slimeball.
Then puree him.
Burn the results.
Flush.
And then i will tell you what I really think about that bottom dwelling smegma-lipped POS semi-human walking excewment package.
When I was a teenager, I lived in the Washington suburbs. My father was an Army officer, My uncle was the superintendent of the Longworth Congressional Office Building, my cousin was the secretary to my Congressman, my grandmother was a close friend of Senator Fulbright. I knew the entire Arkansas Congressional Delegation and I used to roam the halls of Congress, the Committee rooms and the galleries for entertainment, usually at will, but occasionally with a ticket provided by my cousin.
When I was trying to get an appointment to West Point, I wandered into members offices to plead my case. I was usually politely shewed away, but on a number of occasions, I was ushered into the members office where I had a number of very long chats with Congressmen and Senators who had nothing better to do than talk with a young brash teenager who wanted to go to West Point. The only thing missing in those conversations was the bourbon which was, no doubt, not far away in the desk drawer.
Washington was a different world back then and members of Congress bore no resemblance to their latter day successors. They were not rich men, though they lived comfortably for the most part. While they were keen to make deals, they did it because it was part of the political game. No one expected that they would become wealthy men as a result. Their vote was not for sale, but they would gladly exchange it for a gentlemanly favor. They weren’t plaster saints, but they would be appalled at the greed, corruption, and display of egos that run rampant in today’s Congress. While the Democrats are the worse by far, the Republicans are not at a Boy Scout Camporee by any means.
God save this grand Republic.
I wonder if they just release the same stories every two years. I do find them humorous.