Madame Speaker, everybody knows what is happening here. The Democrat Party entered a pact with the Devil — they would give him their souls if they would get him nude photos of Donald Trump. Here is a picture of the Democrat House organ, The Socialist Worker, with the headline, “Prepare For The Dictatorship of the Proletariat” — a dictatorship, Madame Speaker, that will be realized when our beloved President is railroaded in a witch trial and witch-hunted in a railroad where he’s tied to the tracks in a star chamber and stars in a chamber of horrors where he is lynched by phony collusion with a Ukrainian hoax in the conservatory with a candlestick. My Democrat colleagues should all be sent to rehabilitation camps, where you will perhaps learn the meaning of democracy.
I am reminded of Federalist 42, where Alexander Hamilton, that woke you up didn't it, said and I quote, “When a man unprincipled in private life desperate in his fortune, bold in his temper, possessed of considerable talents, having the advantage of military habits—despotic in his ordinary demeanour...” Sorry, that’s the wrong bookmark. Here: “The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole Union...” I’m sorry, I am not laughing, in fact Madame Speaker my shoulders shake and my eyes water because I weep for our Republic.
Ah’ma tellin’ ya’ll, this heah’s a gah damn civil war is what this is. Ah was talkin’ t’ ol’ Fred down t’ Cracker Barrel. Now Fred is whut you call a figment o’ mah imagination, but he speaks fo’ the common decent people, which is ev’yone in this country, ‘ceptin’ fo’ libr’ls, and Demmy-crats o’ the Demmy-crat party, an’ Hollywood actors an’ directors an’ stylists an’ key grips an’ best bo-ees an’ just about ev’ybody in the whole dang place, an’ people what went to school an’ gradjeeated, an’ thet there funny-boy at Chipotley what give me sass when ah ast fo’ two burritos an’ said ah’ll eat ‘em heah, an’ antifa an’ socialists an’ lesbeens wif rings in they noses an’ blue hair lahk sum kina freak, an’ awl you fancy-dans and career women an’ he-shes in the Em Ess Em Media. Ol’ Fred said he’ll kill awl of ya, onct it gets to a shootin’ woah. [Hand over heart] And ah pray thet day nevah come!
“… in the conservatory with a candlestick…” made me spit out my coffee, and a hearty belly laugh is all you can ask for in these times. Thanks, Roy.
Did you laugh as you wrote that? Cuz damnit that was funny! Any use of fancy dans is