Still to come:
La mano de Bernardo Kushner
And, Cousin Joe, now would be a good time to ask if anybody remembers, Mexico? Aussi, Rev. Al, öüï is bummed by the spectral phenomenon that ails our decrepit iPhone: eddy currents and the fact that This BITCH called Justice is blind, and a Doberman Pinscher is her K-9 companion.
At past half noon, in STANDARD Soap-opera Time on the American Coast, the Executive monarch of them segregated States of America accepted his own nomination for the next 16 years, before El Infante Barron takes the throne. The room was filled with American Flags sewn with NO GLORY, and packaged, sealed and shipped from Shyna! In SHYNA!!!
From the time-slot, it is clear that the POTUS is really going for that “house-wife” audience in the Future Plantation and Concentration Camp territories of the Trump Empire. The Board of Governors of the United States Postal Service made sure of that, by laying the FIRST CLASS commemorative brick of newly privatized Postal Business.
Go Ahead, El Paso… shoot the messenger. Again, just like you did during the Last (2016) Known Election of that Western Civilization Experiment of Washington. And remember, if you want to hear good news, just head out to Rosa’s Cantina… en la calle Stanton, where you can buy tickets for “Ring Side to The Revolution”, like a fucking “improvisado”, and don’t forget to BUY: Jabón del Perro agradecido.