American’s don’t know shit about scary elections. Try Nicaragua or the middle school in Mosul. We simply like to pretend that our elections are big deals and that voting is a noble deed. As in, I waited in line two hours this morning to vote so I could show you a picture of myself noting how I waited in line for two hours. The rest of us mailed in our ballots and spent two hours not sipping on a vente cappuccino. You’re the American hero.
After eighteen months of nonstop TV news coverage and endless political status updates from your friends who you are quite certain have never uttered a word about res publica since the day you met them, this thing is finally over. And topless protestors finally showed up to a gymnasium where Trump was supposedly going to be casting his ballot. They seemed to be yelling, “Trump out of my balls!”. It’s possible they spent the night before drinking and smoking cloves rather than working on their chants.
As always, we must measure the validity of topless female protestors not by the scrawl on their backs, but by the strength of their tits. Sadly, NBC news which caught the footage blurred out the boobs. A fitting frustrating end note to a year and a half of endless commentary and pretend involvement.
Has anybody bothered to ask Canada if they even want our moping losers?