After watching Hillary’s Oscar winning performance last Thursday before The House Select Committee On Benghazi, I’m now completely convinced that Hillary could stand naked on the smoldering carcass of Chris Stevens while smoking a fat Bob Marley-sized joint, as she screamed aloud the contents of Mein Kampf, and the Left would hail her a Warrior Poet. She’s the new Lizard King … she can do anything.
Matter of fact, if I were Satan, I’d start sweating my crimson butt off because The Hildebeest made the Serpent of Old look like a clunky, overly honest used-car salesmen. Our Faust has breasts, y’all.
Not one person and not one question rattled Hillary. As in not one. As in nada, nothing, zilch, zero, zippo got under her wrinkled, Bill-averse flesh. Bow and kiss the ring, peeps, and meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Hillary’s flawless and skillful execution wasn’t because she was telling the truth — because she wasn’t. She knew she was peddling crack and everyone and their iguana knew that she was lying thru her Frito Pie-hole. But it didn’t/doesn’t matter because she did it with such amazing precision. And that’s all that matters in our unfortunate day; namely, an adept ability to con abecedarian Americans.
The only weird moment Hillary had came via that coughing fit, which was completely understandable because one can only spout so much bullcrap until it triggers mucus to drain down the back of one’s throat causing one to cough.
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