Robert Mueller was the last pin standing between Donald Trump and madness, and he just kicked it over like it was nothing. We are all the enemy now. We are all out to get Donald Trump. Trump might as well…
Axel Serup
blotreacgothe1976
dgh9ddoc9c
dkenfhskvmfse
Gary Fletcher
foxcpogamo1982
John Hunter
John Hunter
jw9lne2lax
o4t2ksddmp
porowstaqua1979
qbo3nmaazg
saseldmsanxjfg
tbeginoroph1983
vabriweavern1989
ventboys
Warning — this is an almost gleefully filthy slack chat. So don’t say we didn’t warn you.
*****
T: Hey J, what were Carlin’s seven dirty words?
J: George Carlin’s seven were shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits. That would have an effect on my vocabulary.
T: Yeah, it would cut it by about a third.
J: Not to mention shortening these chats significantly.
Plus no squirrel pics.
T: Are the Carlin’s Seven still in effect?
J: I think the …
T: Hey J, did you know “llamba growing” is an anagram for “global warming”?
J: That doesn’t make any sense. What’s a llamba?
T: I’d tell you, but it would offend the Twitter-verse.
J: Why would that stop you?
T: You are right; the Twitter-verse is to being offended what Beeker is to nervous lab assistants.
J: Got one for climate change?
T: Um ….
How about “tea chime clang”?
J: That sounds like a rap group I’m about to characterize with a wildly racist stereotype.
T: I dare you.
J: No way. I get enough GOP junk mail as it is.
T: That wasn’t racist.
J: No, but it was …
The slack chats are the brainchild of yammering subversives Johnny “Cake” Hunter and Terry “Insert Nickname Here” Vent. It was inevitable that they would combine their two favorite things — yammering and slacking — into an art form. Plus they stole the idea from Nate Silver’s FiveThirtyEight.
These guys have been off the grid for decades. I assumed they were still traveling the Pacific Rim, trading inflatable Strom Thurmond dolls to the natives for Polynesian weed, but a cursory google search found them hiding in the witness protection program, where they had been since they testified in the infamous “we can’t believe it’s not butter” truth in advertising scandal that took down Orville Redenbacher.
I think one’s in a cult and the other one sells insurance, but I can never remember which one of these jokers sold his soul to an evil demagogue and which one sells flowers at the airport. They call themselves radical centrists, which (I think) means they hate everybody.
Their voting record is all over the map. Both have, at times, cast ballots for chronic losers in the major parties, third parties and once (allegedly) for a Care Bear. Neither one of them voted for Trump, but they think Ivanka is super hot.
Enjoy the madness.
Regards,
D.B. Cooper (shhh … )
