[It is the countdown, folks – so count along.]
~ What’s your poison, Donald?
~ I know what your poison is, Hillary.
~ What’s that?
~ You drink the Kool-Aid.
~ You’re the one who mixes it, Donald. I don’t touch the stuff.
~ It makes you nasty.
~ I’m starting to think you have a fixation on nasty women.
~ I like women.
~ You like to do things to women, Donald. It’s a big difference.
~ They love it.
~ They’d love to let you know how much they love it – I’ll grant you that.
~ So, you get all the women beating up on me, you think it will make you win?
~ A lot more than that is going to make me win.
~ What’s that?
~ You, Donald. You being you. Really, all I have to do is stand there and be superior.
~ They love what I say – the people you help crush. They just love it. Believe me.
~ They love it, Donald. They love hearing it. But they look at you and they see something they don’t want.
~ What?
~ They don’t want a president who will take them down with him. That’s self-preservation, Donald. Something you’re good at.
~ There’s nothing wrong with looking out after yourself.
~ There’s something wrong about only looking after yourself.
~ You’re kinda hawt when you’re a know-it-all. We could have been quite a team. Taken over the country.
~ Team?
~ You know – married. I would have got you out of that pantsuit.
~ We would have to get something more than a marriage certificate.
~ What?
~ A murder/suicide pact.
DE
(image)http://www.madhyamam.com/en/sites/default/files/lafnqroz.jpg
11/05/2016 at 16:03
Reblogged this on kafkaestblog and commented:
Into the breach, once more.
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