Geez, all House Ways & Means Committee Chairman Paul Ryan (WI-1) did was push one wheelchaired grandmother off a cliff.
What's that? The elderly Scooby Doo only rode past and pointedly and royally ignored them? Well, if she gets to make [stuff] up about getting shot at in Bosnia and other political resume botox-injections, why can't we all have a little Fun-With-Exaggeration? Besides, if she got genuine botox injections, she'd exhaust the global supply, and she'd still have more loose skin than a disembowled bull elephant.
In other words, welcome to your daily obligatory Hillary Clinton palate cleanser:
Hillary Clinton wants to meet “everyday Americans” so badly, she drove right past many waiting in front of her event in Iowa.
“I think what you don’t see in that clip, which is one of the most surprising things is there were actually a ton of people waiting for her at the front of that college,” said Financial Times reporter Megan Murphy. “There were elderly people in wheelchairs, there were people — and they just cruised right on by to the back.”
The news that Clinton symbolically drove past ordinary voters while driving their own “everyday Americans” to the event will certainly reflect poorly on the campaign….
The Democratic front-runner had already snubbed everyday Americans when she parked at a handicapped spot for her convenience at one event and did not include “differently-abled” citizens in her announcement video.
“Those were the everyday Americans. Those were the everyday Iowans and guess what—they were lined up in front of that community college,” Murphy said.
Medusa is kind of like every botched boob job: "They're fake, and they're grotesquely unspectacular". But that's what's so entertaining about the hag. In fact, it's the only thing about her that's remotely interesting. She's been in our faces for the past twenty-three years, shrieking and hectoring and scamming, driving us to nausea with her relentlessly stupendous sense of vaginal entitlement. Everybody knows who she is, what she is, and what she really stands for. Which makes all the staged fakery all the more hilarious and worthy of vicious ridicule in the finest saggy-tit-for-tat sense. It's an inexhaustible river of daily blogfodder, and the only thing that's going to get me through the next year of a pre-taxidermized vanity candidacy that is more preemptively doomed than a Miley Cyrus chastity belt.
You're welcome.
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