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    Bad Literature Inc

    February 13. The ninth Republican debate. Greenville, South Carolina

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    Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia does abortion a solid and dies. Right off it’s a self-serving, no-holds-barred love fest for precious Christian right votes.

    Marco Rubio shamelessly drives the Scalia bang bus into the ground, favorably comparing him to Alexander the Great, Peter the Great, Constantine the Great, Cnut the Great, Theoderic the Great and any and all other Greats throughout recorded history.

    Jeb Bush implores Americans to work longer hours.

    Ben Carson’s stuck in some voodoo trance and quoting Joseph Stalin, like he’s self-anesthetized himself by huffing ether.

    John Kasich wants to have all Supreme Court Justices culled by the age of fifty. 

    Sensing an opening, Trump lays into his favorite whipping boy, stating that Jeb Bush wants to take his pants off and moon everybody.

    Humiliated, Bush fires back. “You can’t insult your way to the presidency.”


    Trump doubles down, comparing Ben Carson to a pathological child molester, and even moderator John Dickerson can’t take it anymore. “. . . Gentleman, we’re in danger of driving this into the dirt.”

    After more bickering, order’s finally restored when all the candidates agree that Jeb’s mother should be running in his place. The debate wraps up with another flagrant love orgy, and everbody lines up onstage to take turns openly fellating the corpse of Ronald Reagan.

    Afterwards, Trumps gets into a Twitter flame war with the Pope.

    Polls show 40% of the viewers support the death penalty for whoever keeps setting up these debates, 32% think everyone in congress should be on laudanum and 28% would rather be watching NASCAR.

    Somehow, Hillary’s the Democratic polling front runner with a 350% chance of winning, despite past gaffes about “Superpredators”, blatantly accusing Mahatma Gandhi of owning a gas station in St. Louis, and having ralllies so lame she’s forced to use crash test dummies as live audience stand-ins.

    Pundits tell everyone that Sanders doesn’t have a chance, saying he looks way too much like Che Guevara.

    Randy Duke

    © Riproduzione riservata


    Sono la mente insana che sta alla base di Bad Literature Inc. Giornalista pubblicista, Gonzo nell’animo, speaker radiofonico, peccatore professionista, casinista come pochi. Infesto il web con i miei articoli che sono dei punti di vista ( e in quanto tali condivisibili o meno) e ho una particolare predisposizione a dileggiare la normalità. Se volete saperne di più su di me e su Bad Literature Inc. e volete proprio farvi del male, leggete i miei articoli. Ma poi non dite che non siete stati avvertiti.

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