Dear Hillary: 

I get it. You don’t want to go on the record. Really, no one does. And who can blame you? Ours is now a nation of narcs, whiners, babies, complainers and people who love the idea of taking extra time during already excruciatingly long athletic contests with “instant replay” in an effort to not have to accept the fact that human error is merely part of every aspect of life, including sports. So the umpire/ref/official may be wrong. Who cares? It’s just a fucking game. If women tried to demand instant replays during the dating process in an effort to formally weed out all the lies and bullshit men throw at them, men would scoff at what naggers women are. But a throw to first base??? We have GOT TO GET THAT SHIT RIGHT!!! 

Bottom line? We all know you are totally full of shit. Everything you say is planned. Scheduled by lawyers, with the express intent of keeping you out of jail due to your hobby of egregious lying. It’s who you are. It defines you. We have come to not only expect, but rely on your otherworldly version of events, your Clintonian splitting of hairs, Chomskying of words, redefining even the most statistically common, mundane words to fit your narrative. I mean, if after all this time, you just answered a simple, straightforward question in an easily understood manner, your already questionable age and resulting health would immediately come into play. 

Let’s face it, Hill. Americans love liars. They either love to love them or they love to hate them or they love to love to hate them. Your lies make us feel better about our own daily bullshit. Telling the boss there was an “accident” on the way to work that kept you from making your presentation when really, you had to take an extended dump due to the expired eggs you forced your “girlfriend” to cook you post tea bag/ pre kicking her to the curb so you could “get a good nights sleep.” Skimming $20-40 per trip to the grocery store from the ATM card and stashing it away from your spouse so you can use it for the rock bottom priced Botox your housekeepers nephew who is a med school night student injects you with in his garage for cash only. We all do it. No one wants to answer for those minor indiscretions. So they aren’t making you answer for your major ones. 

So I say, keep going. Push this as far as you can. Never give up. America deserves you! Nothing could be more representative of where we are as a nation today than a leader spewing lie after lie in a voice which is as much of a grating collective boner killer as the sandpaper texture of her dried out pussy. And no one wants that. What on earth could be more worthless? 

Hail to the “cheat!” I mean “chief.” I mean, “chafe.” Because between those pantsuits and your desert level cooch, it’s gotta be wicked flaky down there. 


PS. Even that thumb up Bills ass can’t make up for the fact that your hole is as wide and unappealing as Chris Christies anus. 


One thought on “DEAR HILLARY

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