The Neocon / intel blob’s other catspaw (domestic version), candidate Kamala Harris, is promising all kinds of good things “when [she] is in-office.” For some reason, nobody on The New York Times’s enormous staff of Ivy League germinated Urnialists has informed Ms. Harris that she is actually in-office now, and has been since 1/20/2021. Why no good things for us plebes all these many months? No rainbows, unicorns, tax cuts, or ten-pound blocks of government cheese? Nothing but a disintegrating dollar, floods of savage mutts crossing the border and landing everywhere from Springfield, Ohio, to Nantucket, and endless raging bullshit about fighting “misinformation” — i.e., any idea that contradicts the Democratic Party’s agenda for assisted national suicide.
Harris’s gaslight-powered campaign has lost its loft in recent days, its most newsworthy event being last week’s cuddle hour with America’s official Care-Bear, Oprah. . . because, you see, there is nothing left except to pander to the emotional void induced by Woke-ism in the desperately needy minds of X-million voters of the birthing-person persuasion — especially among those unhappy souls who never got around to the birthing. Ms. Harris’s loathsome accessory, Tim Walz, has performed so discordantly that the campaign had to hang him in a closet somewhere, along with all his assorted skeletons, and lock the door. As ever, October surprises await: monsters, demons, ghouls, shrieking ghosts, the walking dead, and all the paid-up minions of the teachers’ union.
The Neocon / intel blob’s other catspaw (domestic version), candidate Kamala Harris, is promising all kinds of good things “when [she] is in-office.” For some reason, nobody on The New York Times’s enormous staff of Ivy League germinated Urnialists has informed Ms. Harris that she is actually in-office now, and has been since 1/20/2021. Why no good things for us plebes all these many months? No rainbows, unicorns, tax cuts, or ten-pound blocks of government cheese? Nothing but a disintegrating dollar, floods of savage mutts crossing the border and landing everywhere from Springfield, Ohio, to Nantucket, and endless raging bullshit about fighting “misinformation” — i.e., any idea that contradicts the Democratic Party’s agenda for assisted national suicide.
Harris’s gaslight-powered campaign has lost its loft in recent days, its most newsworthy event being last week’s cuddle hour with America’s official Care-Bear, Oprah. . . because, you see, there is nothing left except to pander to the emotional void induced by Woke-ism in the desperately needy minds of X-million voters of the birthing-person persuasion — especially among those unhappy souls who never got around to the birthing. Ms. Harris’s loathsome accessory, Tim Walz, has performed so discordantly that the campaign had to hang him in a closet somewhere, along with all his assorted skeletons, and lock the door. As ever, October surprises await: monsters, demons, ghouls, shrieking ghosts, the walking dead, and all the paid-up minions of the teachers’ union.
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