The first night of the Trump convention last night was a cornucopia of hate, bigotry and lies. Yesterday I wrote satirically of Fred Phelps leading the opening prayer. As it turned out, he would have fit right in with all that followed, much better than that pansy ass preacher they dug up talking about peace and love.
"We are the champions" music stolen from Queen playing in the background Thump emerged from a sea of fog. Just to introduce Melania. It makes one wonder what he might do for an encore when he is going to speak. Some entrance stolen from by-gone wrestlers, I suspect.
If they were smart, they would realize the reason for their convention being so dull is the lack of gay designers, choreographers and all the gay personnel needed to make any presentation entertaining, stimulating, intelligent and enjoyable. This lack among republicans is sorely felt when they try anything of an artistic nature.
Being a man of the world, I seldom drink but when I do; it's southern 'shine in a mason jar less than three days old. For these four days, it's the perfect antidote.
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