Well, when Teflon Bill was in the Oval Office, getting little Bill as fellated as he could, whilst "Not having sex with that woman", George Bush Senior was consolidating his ties with the Bin Ladens, and the Sauds in the Deserts of Saudi Arabia. And at the same time, The Bollock Bros, (JebanDub) as State Governors, were quietly, but surely each trying to outdo the other, in how many Death Row Prisoners they could send to the exectioner.
And the more lives were sacrificed in this Caligulan Gorefest, the more Texas and Florida loved their Boys. And the more people cheered Clinton, and his extracurricular sexualisationions, the more the Gore flowed.
Anyway, I've been trying to salvage a snappy, Bushy tailed meme from this loosely assembled, and poorly built Presidential pastich. Something like "A Bush in the sand, is worth two in the Senate"
But my head has slowly boiled my poor brain out of my ears, and my resolve has melted away as the piss poor trolling of poptart peon fills my inbox. What he is doing, is no more Trolling, than a flasher, is an exotic male dancer. He runs in into the Supermarket, finds an old lady, or a pair of schoolgirls up a quiet aisle, then takes out his ugly, warty cock, and wiggles it around in a vain attempt to achieve some degree of turgitity, fails, then runs out of the shop shouting "w00t w00t, look at me everyone, I've got my COCK out, and I'm not even pissing!"
A flasher, with erectile dysfunction. Next time, he'll take a big flesh coloured dildo with him instead. "w00t w00t, look at my HUGE cock everyone" and as he gestures, obscenely at some poor young till attendant, his plastic penis falls to the floor, revealing a three quarter inch nubbin of gristle, no bigger than an engorged clitoris, then, all the people in the shop point, and laugh at him.
Quite how this turned from a thread, speculating on post-presidential aspirations, (or lack of) into an analagous portrait of poptarts failness, I don't really know, and I'm sorry Dok, Ive badly derailed here, but It wasn't my intention. I'll try and make up for it later, by severing the head of . . . . .well, not literally, but y'know, the road to hell is littered with good intentions, but this one is littered with empty poptart wrappers. But which flavour? Lets do a Poll, and find out. AAARGH! Sorry, I'll get my coat. . . . .