In case you’re wondering, I’m not watching the Democratic National Convention. I’d rather eat steel wool than watch the damn thing.
I’d rather have Bill Clinton give me a gynecological exam.
Okay, no, I wouldn’t go that far.
I would sit through the remake of Ghostbusters before I spent five minutes watching the conga line of commies in Philadelphia.
You could get me to sit down for a marathon of “Joanie Loves Chachi” or the collected “documentaries” of Michael Moore before you could get me to sit down for this.
Frankly, I’m shocked that any Democrat would watch this given their strong objections to torture.
Just reading the transcripts from speeches already feels like having a rectal exam without the KY. The thought of having to hear these people utter those words appeals to me about as much as listening to the entire 10-hour YouTube video of Hillary laughing.
Though I might parse a speech or two via the transcript, don’t expect me to suffer through any of it even to take the bullet for you. No offense you guys. I love ya. But, even that is a bridge too far for me.
Life is too short to have to listen to angry Leftists — without a hint of irony — shriek and bellow and shout about how angry Trump is. Who wants to listen to them holler that America has always been great as they proceed to itemize all the things that are wrong with America?
And, honestly? I’ve shtruggled through more than my fair share of Michelle Obama’s speeches. I simply do not have the shtrengf to shtruggle through any more.
There is only one way you could ever get me to sit through this Commie, Anti-American Nuremburg Rally. And that’s to strap me to a chair and force my eyes open ala “A Clockwork Orange.”
And even then, I would find a way to gnaw off my own arms to free myself.
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