Rethug hopefuls plan a weekend retreat at McInsane's lavish Arizona mansion/estate, watching "Matlock" reruns, engaging in witty banter with the candidate's 186-year-old mother, tactfully avoiding his wealthy ice-queen wife, and trying to convince the senile old fuck that they would be the best man for the job of covering up for him.
Meanwhile, the NY Times' resident douche, Bill Kristol -- who formerly had named every republican-of-color existing as the VP pick-- thinks it'll go to vichyrat Joe Lieberman. Whereby I'll promptly puke up my lunch, breakfast and what'll be left of my upper small intestine. Though he has been wrong before.
"Pick me! You won't regret it!"
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