Hold on a sec, - just - hold up. You’re telling me, okay, the guy who can’t finish a thought at all, who lies all the time as a conversational style, who wears botched paint on his face with little raccoon cutouts for his beady, cloudy eyes, with his wet hair that goes to the middle of his back all whipped up like cotton candy, in a huge plastic girdle that makes him stand like the front-half of a centaur, with lifts in his shoes, and a high, whiny, grating voice with the jacking-off-two-giants-dance . . . .
You’re telling me he’s worse than the 2016 version? Cause all that’s the same.
Hold on a sec, - just - hold up. You’re telling me, okay, the guy who can’t finish a thought at all, who lies all the time as a conversational style, who wears botched paint on his face with little raccoon cutouts for his beady, cloudy eyes, with his wet hair that goes to the middle of his back all whipped up like cotton candy, in a huge plastic girdle that makes him stand like the front-half of a centaur, with lifts in his shoes, and a high, whiny, grating voice with the jacking-off-two-giants-dance . . . .
You’re telling me he’s worse than the 2016 version? Cause all that’s the same.
Nailed it
he’s louder.
and smellier.