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...
I'm going to knit. I can't keep clock stalking. 10:18. 10:19. geez fuckin louise. midnight. come on, baby. hit me! come to mama. strike it, baby, strike it.
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