Claire McCaskill (D ::spit:: D.I.M.*)

ASKS A CROWD — oh, so disingenuously — “Do you really think you’re persuading anybody, shouting out like that?”

What a cankerblossom! People are shouting, because you don’t seem to be able to hear them otherwise.

If you’d listened 20, 30, 50, 70, 100 years ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.


Now, now.

Yeah, I know. I know. I plead extreme emotional distress.

ANDanotherthing (about that ass-to-risk at the top)…

Most congresscritters won’t give you the time of day until you fill out a form with AT LEAST your zip-plus-four, and probably your street address.
Gotta be a “constituent,” see…

Which would be fine, if the fuckwit from New York (or, in McCaskill’s case, Does It Matter), is going to waive my rights or actively infringe on them, I kind a feel it incumbent on me to let the fuckwit know my opinion.
And I feel it incumbent on HIM to freakin’ listen. And when they talk-to-the-hand me, it’s ON, mortarforker.

Homey don’ play dat.

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