… and in Washington [E.S.T], Sam Bee wears cowboy boots to a Black Tie affaire.

20h00 in Central Siren Time
Happening right now:
Jon Favereau delivers unlimited anounts of chessy burgers to Suzi y los Sepultureros at their D.E.N.

—– more —–

Indeed, in Poway, California, it is still the weekend and C–SPAN continues to mourn the comedic genitalia castration of The White House Correspondents Association. 

Indeed, at 21.40 in Kamala Harris time (Let’s Do This) The W.H. Correspondents Association have gone the way of the [H]AMPAS or the academy of motion pictures arts and SCIENCES, and its illegitimate cousins the Foreign Press Awards who tailor their fucking recognition ceremonies in accordance to the president of the United States of America, and/or an angry crowd of protesters sporting cunt-shaped beanie caps.

Indeed, for this, the last weekend in the month of April, the current president of The United States of America just scored another little “enemy of the people” sticker for his political Flyin’ Circus fortresses–es–es–eses.

Luckly, The Turner fella’s still have Jason Jones and that riot that he calls a wife, to keep the flame of FUCK YOU MR. president! Going strong; —and on multiple streams and platforms— Cunt Cap is optional.


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