I had the misfortune to spend some time in a room today with a tee vee on in the corner while Ronan Farrow was on. I'm glad I couldn't hear it too well, because that fucker is so unaccountably awful. Like a Luke Russert or a Chelsea Clinton, if that little turd's name was Ed Jonston instead, he'd be at best gainfully employed as an assistant manger in training at one of America's finest dollar stores. Instead, Satchel got his life handed to him by his psycho family and our vile web-toed aristocracy, and now we all have to suffer because of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment