Y'all need to listen to this. Because Trump will be entering the White House as a lame duck president, it may not be as easy for him as some people think. 😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣👇
I know Ret Marine Gen John Kelly. One of the finest senior leaders of his generation. Courage. Integrity. Moral principles. Service to country. Ignore his words at our national peril.
What a story. Catherine from Mississippi was told she only had 6 months to live in May. Yesterday, she cast the final ballot of her life for Vice President Kamala Harris & Gov. Tim Walz. Thank you, Catherine. We are going to do this for you.
@DogginTrump My father whom passed away in March of this year was sent a mailed request from Don Jr asking to kick in some money for the RNC...dad was a lifelong Democrat.
I did apply a stamp and sent a message within their envelope.
Takers on what I had written?
As we speak, alone somewhere in a gaudy golf resort, a sad, sagging, senile septuagenarian sixteen Diet Cokes into second dinner is spilling out of his garish gilded dining chair and seething as he stares down at his phone rage scrolling.
Realizing his go-to safe space virtual realm is suddenly rife with ridicule and no longer a welcoming retreat from reality, his head begins to pound, rivers of sweat cut tracks from his forehead through his cake makeup before dropping onto the ketchup-stained table cloth below, and the fetid stew forever festering in his bloated bowels begins to bubble.
The eerie blue glow of his cell phone is casting sinister shadows across his features, the light reflecting off the cold glint of his ghoulish gaze, and his teeny-tiny fingers are beginning to stretch around that all-to-familiar Heinz 57 tighter and tighter, as he watches post after post of them mocking and taunting him to an eruption of excited applause.
They’re laughing at him. They’re all laughing at him. And he cannot make it stop. The words begin swirling around his saccharine-soaked cerebellum… weird… creepy… loser… loser, Loser, LOSER!
No matter what he does, he can’t turn the voices off, he can’t quiet them, he can’t control anything, it’s all spinning around him, and he’s swinging and swatting to no avail, until his not-so-fun-sized phalanges grasp the smooth, cool glass of that iconic bottle, his lifelong and most loyal friend, and he hurls it all the wall, shits his pants, bellows for his diaper butler and commands a cowering busboy to fetch him another Diet Coke before he returns to hate-scrolling on his phone.