Kettle, meet black! 

Right now,  I am laughing so hard at Eugene Robinson (one of the half million wieners, (writers?), they seem to own at the Post).  I have to wonder if they read what they write.  I can’t imagine they don’t because I read everything I write, like three times.  Of course I can’t spell and my spell checker is just barely more competent.  (I heard someone out there mention Grammar.   STFU!)

Today Eugene took after President Trump for, wait for it, I have to stop laughing again. ..okay,  here we go,  preening.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, how dare the winner travel the country saying things like, “thank you”, “we won”, and worse yet, “we’re going to be great again”.

Now,  I’m the first to admit that I suffer from a severe case of CRS, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear ole Eugene bitching about the “hopey/changey” or the “yes we can” months-long tours we endured after the last two errors, erm, I mean eras.  I sincerely hope he doesn’t think I would believe,  even for one second,  that the coronation of queen bitch Killery wasn’t going to last until May Day, at least.

My guess?   He didn’t get an invite to the party.  OH, WHAH!  How do you get a job writing this drivel?   What would the Post do with a real reporter?  Will Jane ever let Bob back in the TV room after he laughèd at a Killery joke?  Will Oblamer come back from vacation before Jan 20 or continue to write it in?   WTF, why spoil a perfect eight year run,  right?


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