Democrats 1

My advice to Democrats is to run to your War Room turn on a big screen monitor and watch 10 hours of Warner Bros cartoons.

Because you are going to walk into a buzz saw.

You’re going to be hit with cast iron frying pans.

You’re going to stick your forefinger into a light socket and your bones are going to glow like an X-ray.

Your hair will stand up and your mirror will crack and little pieces of glass will tinkle to the floor.

Your guts are going to be plucked like a bass guitar and grand pianos will come raining down on you in a pile of wires and wood chips.

You’re going to be tripped onto the glue line and boxed and wrapped and ribboned and stamped and postmarked and delivered by drone to your next door neighbor’s angriest bulldog.

And that’s just the beginning.

Democrats 2

***

Oh Jesus. It’s finally happened like bad plumbing or a problem with the sump pump.

Democrats are trying to decide a thing.

Oh my f-ing god. Sweet Grandma Jesus.

Here’s a clue: Col. Mustard in the library with a golf club, Democrats.

Three years to solve the great train robbery. It was the guys with masks on, Democrats.

Will you have balloons at your convention? Oh, joy.

Yes, the lunch menu is all in another language. You’re in Chinatown, Democrats.

Please ask Siri to find a plumber with a snake and a plunger and hope your cerebellum is not wedged too tightly up moderation alley, Democratic Party.

Oh my holy plastic garden gnome of a god, please guide the Democrats to the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen