That’s because Rump is uneducated. Like everything else—Rump’s degrees are fake.

Yoohoo, christians? Recognize this? “Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is 666” (Book of Revelation). Some christian should check Rump—666 is likely etched on his flesh under that straw shit he calls “hair.”

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

"Mein Führer, I can walk!"

Rump is not looking for friends. He’s never had one. Like many other words, Rump uses that word but has no idea what it means.

"Mein Führer, I can walk!"

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Again, something else he stole from Hitler (who thought the german people could all go to hell as he—Hitler—rotted in his bunker).

Smell the sulphur? Satan is near and he wants the soul he was promised in 1946 by Mother Rump.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

"The golden age of America.”

Fetterman is the poster boy for the dangers of a stroke; Mullin is the poster boy for the dangers of huffing too much plumber’s cement.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Kristi:
Thinking of you!
Love, Cricket.

Spain knows better than to get in bed with a fascist. Didn’t work out so well the last time they did. (image = Picasso working on Guernica).