by Kevin Downey Jr, PJ Media:
I don’t sleep well under normal circumstances.
I typically enjoy a Manhattan or two when the day is done. My fiancee, Jessica, and I will catch an episode or two of Breaking Bad; then it is lights out in our apartment, the Atomic Bunker. That’s when the saturnalia in my cerebellum kicks on the lights, calls in the Big Top clowns, and BAM, it’s SHOWTIME!
What keeps me up usually? Perhaps I’ll pontificate about the potentially devasting effect one Confederate machine gun machine could have had at Pickett’s Charge. Or maybe I will stay up until 5:34 a.m. wondering how many cavemen roaming Michigan had to die of seizures before humanity learned not to eat yew berries.
TRUTH LIVES on at https://sgtreport.tv/
As a kid, I always thought, if the squirrels dont kill me the yew berries will. pic.twitter.com/Qsfj6IusKt
— The Kevin Downey, Jr. Show Mon- Fri. 10-11 am! (@KDJRadioShow) October 29, 2024
But the thing that keeps my late-night noggin throbbin’ lately is, should this election go in the wrong direction, how my digestive tract will handle the moldy cabbage served to grubby-faced, recalcitrant patriots serving time in Kamala’s Reeducation Camp and Gift Shop.
DYSTOPY-O-RAMA! My nephew may someday wear a v-neck that reads, “My uncle went to Gulag-9 and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.”
Being the multi-media conservative figjam that I am, I suspect Kamala’s quod goons will delight in my cabbage-inspired gastrocolic carnage and will likely laughingly hand me 60-grit toilet paper. History’s victors decide what is and isn’t funny.
