Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

It took three glasses of wine, but I managed to listen to your entire disjointed, rambling, babble-packed press conference (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon.  Without entering a convent.  But just barely.

Dude, what was that?
  1. A skillful and nefarious manipulation of language, power, and the media designed to deflect attention from your administration's disastrous occupation of the White House?
  2. An appalling and calculated outpouring of lies, half-truths, veiled threats, and blame composing a series of desperate defenses against the indefensible?
  3. An hour-and-a-half-long infomercial on dementia?
You got one thing right, though.

Women are SO angry.

Me too,


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