Mmmfff.

I said “wolfs” until I was about twenty. Worse, I pronounced it “woofs.”

Silver spoon? Silver? How dare you, Sir or Madame! A Trump would never allow silver past their plump, analesque lips and near their coated, thrushy tongue.

Also, I figure all three of them were counting on a gold-leafed political dynasty, so it’s to their advantage to shore up his rotting husk. If their father who is negative-integer qualified can hold the office, then certainly the Immoral Three could take turns violating the nation as well, assuming it could survive…

She has to put pennies on the tone arm of her record player, so the needle doesn’t skip.

Yes, I know. That was my point.

But we all know that Muhammad’s contemporaries were cardigan-wearing Jimmy Carter types, who volunteered in no-kill shelters and refused to shop in big box stores.

I always felt bad for the actors playing the defense attorneys in the interrogation scenes, because AT MOST, they’d murmur, “see here, now...” and most of the time they were just furniture while Vincent D’Onofrio bobbed and weaved like a pigeon and their client told all.

What a... natural hair color. Almost as convincing as his words.

IJDGI.

His mom must hate those sharp milk teeth. Some babies is just ugly.

For I yam the Tater Whisperer. Wherever Men (and oftentimes Ladies) Gather in the Name of Carbohydrates, I Will Be There, in Your Ear. Whissssspering: taaaaaaaatersssssssss.

“We are aware of two prom asks this spring that have been of [a] racist nature...”

Wasn’t easy, with just a greasy finger on an iPad. (I was eating a grilled cheese sandwich, for orange inspiration, at the time.)

Winston Churchill was the Edwardians’ Michael Bublé.

“I saw it in the window, and just couldn’t resist.”

I am the Side Eye Whisperer.

Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?