He almost got more training than he could handle.
*type type type type*
Stephen Miller is the Jared Kushner of Joseph Goebbelses.
There’s one of these in its box in my mom’s garage! Not identical, and the box has hilariously bad English, but it’s the same deal. Never used it, I think because it seemed particularly cheaply made and would probably set itself on fire before too long.
Shut it down and give this man his COTD.
Came for the Trump slam, staying for the Nickelback jokes.
Somebody needs to ask him, on camera, what exactly he means by “perfect” in relation to the Ukraine call. Fucking dumbass.
Nope, just the regular one.
Did the same with my 95 Grand Prix GTP, which had the white 5-spoke rims. I made custom center caps with a blue Pontiac arrowhead. I always made a point to align the tip of the arrowhead with the valve stem.
I hate it when you’re right. Stop being right damn you!
Thankfully, the closest I’ve come to having my brother wreck a car of mine is when he drove it around for a couple hours with the parking brake on. I had painted the calipers candy apple blue, and by the time I got it back they had overheated and cooked that paint right off.
John Stapp had balls that clanked when he walked.
Shame. I’d storm that castle.
Look at fuckin’ Pence in that lead pic. He’s counting the moments until he can lay back and let Donnie drag his distended ball bag all over Pence’s eager, subservient toady face. “Absolutely right, Mr President!”
I love the word “fealty” to describe taint-licking dildoes like Pence. The word instantly conjures images of a weak, sad toady sopping up every drop of his master’s leavings in a desperate ploy to please him.
My new band will be called “Knockoff Electric Monsters”. We’ll be sort of a cross between They Might be Giants and The Cure, with a little Art Garfunkel in there to keep the peace.