President Pissy-Pants gets ever more shrill in his petulance.
C'mon--I understand that wingnuts aren't exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer and will fall for Shrub's shit faster than a redneck in a original specs General Lee, but everyone else must realize that the Chimperor's spin is his last refuge, especially as it gets harder and harder to deny that the last seven years of his economic program is fraying faster than a five-dollar dimestore suit.
Legacy? Hell. The assclown's just trying to hang on till January.
Note: Speaking of hanging on--I'm feeling a lot better than I did yesterday, and miles above Wednesday night...but I'm still more under the weather than on the downward slope--the gods of rest and recuperation are making it pretty clear that I'll be catching up with them for the rest of today.
See you tomorrow.
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