I love the smell of righteous indignation in the morning. And the afternoon too.
You’re a two-bit hustler that would sell snake-oil to his dying mother. A cheap carpet-bagger from New York with a greasy suit, Mafioso hair, and without a shred of common decency.
We get it Rucho. We are the kind of people you don’t notice or want to deal with on a daily basis. You like to spend your time with cynical politicians, cash money donors, and the kind of ideologues you’ve been able to con into believing your unmitigated crap. I grew up priming tobacco in the Summer sun and feeding cows and hogs in Stokes County. I’ve been around enough barns to know horse shit when I smell it.