(Still, I don’t know if I can stand even MORE jerking off about St. Ronnie, who for all his faults would cockpunch Donald Trump and ask Scott Walker to go park his car.)
Since apparently anybody with the cash can call one of these things, I would like to start raising money next month for a First Draft debate, in which we invite the losing Democratic candidates for president who are still alive to spend three hours beating an effigy of George W. Bush like a pinata, and when money falls out they have to give it to somebody who promises to only buy steaks and abortions or drinks at a gay wedding reception.
Fruity drinks.
A.