Just like a series of three declining farts released from the belly of Phil Collins after gently playing “Sussudio” on a Muppet piano in what remains of the house that his ex-wife will soon own, It Had To Happen Sooner or Later.
This past weekend, the United States Senate met for a vote on whether or not to forcibly remove Speaker of the house Nancy Pelosi from her position as the third in line from the office of the President. The senators rolled in one by one, like hot dogs down a curlyque slide into Melania Trump’s waiting mouth.
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At any rate, the Senate took a hard line up-or-down vote on the question, which ended by party line decision decisively in the “up” camp. When it was agreed that no one knew exactly what that meant at all, they voted a second time at the Applebees table a few hours later, and decided by 11 to 1, with only senator Mitt Romney abstaining due to drunkeness, to fire Pelosi.
The news came to Pelosi through one of her interns, a young boy named Keith, who is being groomed to be President in 2032 after Chelsea Clinton. The Speaker laughed at the results of the vote, gave Keith his first two-dollar bill tip, tapped him on the head, and ushered him off to the ice creamery for a nice couple of scoops.
Totally happened. Don’t look at me. I wasn’t there. I got all this info from some kid who rides one of those hoverboard things that’s not really a hoverboard and sells bloogies by the porn booth.
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