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If you listen closely as you read this, you can hear me reaching hard to create three, I may have torn a rotator cuff
I come here today my friends not to bury John McCain, but to praise him. To share a tender loving family values snibble of time that I hope transcends politics. You see my friends the presidential campaign trail is long and hard, like a penis, and at one point on that long, hard, soul sucking, maverick busting into party yes man presidential campaign trail, John's loving wife Cindy came up to him, ran her beerlicous fingers through his hair and said, "You're getting a little thin up there." A moment of tender humanity in the loveless inhuman world that is American presidential politics. "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt" Is what John McCain said by way of reply. I'm not making that up. Three reporters witnessed it. God that's hot. I bet they had steaming sex that night. White-hot nuclear powered cuntaramic sex until that makeup ran down Cindy McCain's face like water through a hydroelectric dam. Which means it...
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I endeared myself to my mother-in-law the first time I saw it by walking past, looking up at the name, and turning to Lady Mountjoy, who had her mother in tow, and saying "Do'Muff? That sounds like some sort of yeast infection..."
The M-I-L pissed herself laughing harder than my wife.
actually, I wrote an essay about it. it's lame, but it was super fun to write.