Again.
“Yeah. But first we’re gonna rumor 3 someone’s. Give those fucks at the Washington Jizzrag 3 something to bitch about for a week.”
“And then we convince ‘em to print signs for each possibility!” Cornyn says with his ears perking up.
“He has a name you know,” Grassley muttered under his breath.
“Yeah, the Fridge Intern, Intern for short, now shut the fuck up!” The OG lashed out, causing Grassley to flinch.
“I got a guy for that. Find their sign pile, snap some photos, give ‘em to that Posobiec kid or something. Easy. Hard part’s what’s next.”
“Same letter she’s been sitting on since Gorsuch. As in the one my girl inside her office has been holding onto since Gorsuch. Gonna trot that out, convince her to rewrite and use it.”
“I KNOW she’s dead, she was a fucking dinosaur, sorry about that meteor b-t-dubs, now what have I told you about interrupting me during my strategerizing!”
The harsh rebuke left the Senators in a stunned silence, broken only by the diet coke being finished.
“Fuck no motherfucker, this is some he said thot said BOOOOLL-shit. Gonna go all Dracula and burn up the minute it sees the fucking sun.”
“Whateva you WANT, muthafucka! Piss on that fire! Throw lighter fluid in and watch it get roasted like Hillary at a dinner! Open fucking season! Have some fun!”
/end