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MIKE POMPEO: THE BIO HE DESERVES

Mike Pompeo is the Christ-mad bacon aircraft carrier squatting as Secretary of State. A delusional 14th Century fuckstick, Pompeo subscribes to notions that, if he said them on a street corner, would make the cops move him to a more deserted
street corner. For terrifying example, the conservative Presbyterian Mike-opath thinks Jesus is coming back to blow him cross-eyed for good deeds in one final, Earth-roasting battle between ‘decent Christians’ and various nasties like gays, ISIS, and liberal Ebola
dragons, unaware that sane people consider this appealing as he finds the salad bar. Wompeo, who incidentally looks like a suicidal train station manager in official portraits, grew up in Orange, has an orange boss, and should be wearing orange. Born in 1963 to Dorothy Mercer and
some dude of Italian ancestry, Pompeo is only 55 but has aged like a shit wine… not that he gives a fuck. For most people a face like Mike’s would literally be the end of the world, but that’s why he likes it. Our brooding Islamophobic zealot spent five years as an armor officer
in West Germany before attending rather good educational institute Harvard Law School despite being loony as a broken wolf-filled Ferris wheel and believing bullshit that pre-dates plankton. In 1998 he went to Kansas and bought a few plane-part makers with some buddies, before
sinking to president of Sentry International, on oilfield equipment manufacturer partnered with Koch Industries. Twelve years later, Koch-funded Pompeo surfed into Congress on a bone-crammed oil wave of dying species, accepting a campaign cash infusion of around $100,000 from
Charles and his still-alive, but now fixed, brother David. Over the course of his six-year congressional career, Mike snaffled up another $380,000 from the evil pair of scheming lizard fossils in furtherance of their organized push to ‘restyle’ Earth into a crushed wad of petrol
and plastic, and attendant brotherly avocation of cackle-fucking each other’s hands to celebrate (probably.) In 2017, after being nominated by neon apricot 80s pump tech trainer tongue Trump, he lustily embraced the mantle of Director of the CIA, thinking the acronym stood for
Christ’s Imminent Apocalypse but later realizing it meant doing work, which he didn’t do. Stern super-idiot Mike is, on top of his yen to see human civilization reduced to a concrete pancake of smoking ruins, a noted sadist and warmonger. He supports the Saudi war currently
obliterating hope of normal life in Yemen, thinks waterboarding isn’t torture, and is romantically in love with Guantanamo Bay. Additionally, The Misshaped Crusader has been a guest on the radio show of bald daytime Dracula and anti-Islamic conspiracy theorist Frank Gaffney more
than twenty times. Gaffney is well-known for his delusional claims about Muslim infiltration of, and attempts to destroy, the United States, lying that Huma Abedin was a secret agent in the Muslim Brotherhood. On other matters, too, Pompeo is a standard issue
stupid, greedy, anti-science catheter drainage bag of misconceptions, intolerance and prideful archaic dogma. In the House he voted against the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act when its scope was expanded to include same-sex couples then, as CIA
Director, consulted with the Family Research Council, a Southern Poverty Law Center-designated anti-gay hate group. Typically for a morally and mentally stunted GOP dunderhead, Mike expanded the global ‘gag rule’ to stop US aid dollars facilitating, or quite sensibly giving
medical advice about, the necessity of abortions, and said ice caps melting would be quite super for commerce. To encapsulate, Mike Pompeo is a nosy, stale-minded bigot, prude, zealot, moron, and supremely selfish boring busybody who’d merrily watch the planet explode to get a
hug from God. The sole funny thing about this tiresome fascist is that he’s been torn into Trump’s Ukraine fiasco, hopefully banging a final shit-stained nail into the coffin of the lying prig’s hypocritical career. It’s generally funny, in fact, to watch the entire Republican
Party flail in the tightening space they’ve created for themselves like Keystone Cops in the Star Wars trash compactor, a farce that would be downright hilarious if it weren’t for their ability to morph into snakes and slip away. Still, maybe we’ll get lucky and Mike will
armageddon the whole crew with a meat-only fart at their next Eyes Wide Shut party in a secluded murder forest country church basement.
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END
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