I flew domestically at Christmas with an expired state I.D.. As a result I was pulled out of line, both directions, and I got full pat-down, thorough search and swab test for my carry-on, and lots of shaming. (TSA agent/rude old bat at top volume: “SO YOU’VE BEEN DRIVING THREE YEARS ON AN EXPIRED LICENSE?” Me: “No,…

Vince Foster can come out of hiding and throw the switch!

Added schadenfreudish deliciousness: one of the things Trump is most furious about is Bannon’s (according to trumpself) propensity for leaking.

That’s just it; it’s so exasperating that no one who is incessantly shrieking about “her emails,” including Trump and Sessions (as well as their booger-eating public) could even describe what the criminal activity was. It’s just a chant at this point.

That’s just more money for him to lavish gifts upon me. I mean... Bobby.

He was a hateful, redneck villain in Cold Creek Manor, but I rooted for him nonetheless, for obvious reasons.

He’s such a sinkhole.

Then the next day, there’s a puppet show.

It looks like a holographic toenail sticker.

He looks like Baby Steve Guttenberg.

Her mouth must taste horrible.

.

.

It’s a really awkward, unfortunate length. Kind of like her marriage.

He looks like a malevolent Christmas tree ornament. Like if the Monopoly bigwig was made into an ornament for Satan’s tree.

Counterpoint:

I don’t disagree, I’m just tired of them making mushy, alarmist statements, and never being confronted about it. Regardless of the predictable response, I think it would be refreshing to see them sputter, and I’m tired of them driving the conversation and demanding unearned respect.