Snowflake Triggerment Mode Engaged

Finding Rachel Maddow

This talented super racist. He might get your panties wet, but he’ll kill your Jewish friend ..who probably own kittens and a puppy. [Image souce: media.giphy.com]

I was dilly dallying on my phone today as is my ritual every second of my life since smartphones got invented. This era in history I believe commenced in earnest around five years ago. Anyway, I digress, dear mortal earthlings.

In doing so, I happened upon several articles regarding the Resistance’s Stewardess — Ms. Rachel Anne Maddow. Headlines from several news sources pointed out that she’s been the most outspoken when it came to connecting the espionage dots between President Doofus and his Russian puppeteer super spy.

The Queen being Regally Judgmental as fuck and dominating the ratings

Having been a semi fan of Tom Clancy and seasonal super fan of “fake news”, I know what Mr. Putin does to his critics and dissenters. Through these covert channels, I’m made to understand that Kenyan comrade, Barack Hussein Obama was pretty pissed at the failed empire’s goading of US democracy for the past around two years. He was so irked, that he took the unpresidented liberty to pluck their repatriates from some opulent Virginia brothels. Now Trump is bringing them back. This piece of news disturbed me - very minimally. I have come to adjust to the new world order where smog-ridden China takes the pilot seat in climatic matters and the most “patriotic” Americans go mum from having to deal with giant Soviet cocks finding a cozy home in their throats.

A potential victim for my rusty lance

What captured my attention was the insinuation that Putin was pissed at Rachel and the latter had been In Absentia for two whole weeks. I came to the only logical conclusion that a shirtless Eastern European calculating menace on horseback had poisoned the queen and immediate action needed to be taken…right away.

This talented closet racist voicing her support for a super racist while being hot as fuck.

My first notion was that I needed to immediately gain access to a free Wi-fi Hotspot and Google Mel Gibson’s phone number. If it wasn’t listed, I needed to swallow my pride and consult a Russian hacker about how I could get a hold of it. This whole process was innocently designed to gain access to the supplier of Mel’s blue dye that he had painted across his face before felling whatever foes he felled in that movie he was on..you know..the one with the swords? I was going to spray that shit all over myself, buy a ticket to Moscow and challenge the Vlad to a jousting out of Siberia on some super horses. You don’t poison the queen and just casually walk off like you didn’t just sign your own fucking death warrant. I felt a really strong strategic inclination to restrict strikes to the upper mouth area so I could gouge his coy, possum, brown eyes out — with a rusty lance, jump off my pegasus and LITERALLY rip the fucker’s lungs out of their rib cage before stomping on his skull — to relinquish the brains.

Then I read somewhere else that Rachel would be back tomorrow and calmed myself waaaay the fuck down.

I don’t feel like I should have to do this by now, but just hit the 💚 will ya? This shit post will explode in your face in 22 seconds..