Joe's in his basement, by himself in a little lonely. Kamala Harris has to go down and check with the boss, about whatever. She's drawn to his cologne and his power. He leans in, grabs a lock of her freshly flattened hair. She sighs, nearly breathless. He leans in, and whispers in her ear. "Hey nigger you want to go all the way tonight?"
Joe isn't coherent enough to do anything of that nature. Besides, his handlers won't let him near Camella, they need him to at least make it to the inauguration and be sworn in before the she-boon-wannabe strangles him.
I'm so sorry stupid bird, but it's too late for you. It's in your head now. Yeah, all jokes aside that guy's about fucked. And that Indian nigger bitch cannot be president no matter what. We got laws and such that says she can't be.
It was too late for me 40 years ago. Your silly idea simply has nothing to take root on; I sold my mind to the Bell System.
Hillary Clinton mishandled classified information, that should have made her ineligible. Didn't stop her from running.
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