If You Won't Listen to the Rest of Us, Listen to George R. R. Martin and Vote Against Orange Ramsay Bolton
On one side we have Hillary Rodham Clinton. She is seen by some as Cersei Lannister, the calculated and cunning. She is seen by some as Daenerys Targaryen, who, as Riley Silverman put it, has “noble intentions, with occasional vengeful streak. Seen as a deity by some, opposed to oppressive forces but with a bit too much white savior elements to her. Married to a powerful man whose role she eventually usurped. Has dragons. Is blonde. Rocks pants.” To some she’s just a dragon.
Then there’s Donald Trump. A Joffrey-Ramsay combination only worse and also mixed with that really fucking annoying waif who was always smacking Arya with a stick. And he must be destroyed.
And if you won’t listen to me, listen to your old pal Captain Santa Claus of the Dark himself, George R. R. Martin.
The usual pattern in election is that Smith says Jones said something terrible, and Jones denies it. Not so here. Hillary does not need to use the sort of hoary attack ads that Trump is using. She only needs to present him as he is, and let his own words condemn them.
And they do.
In my lifetime, there has never been a presidential candidate more unfit to lead this nation.
You don’t need to like Hillary. You don’t need to listen to what Hillary says about Trump, or what I say about Trump. You just need to listen to Trump. If you can do that, and still consider voting for him… well…
Pappy Bush lost an election by looking at his watch. Michael Dukakis lost an election by riding around in a tank. Howard Dean lost an election by giving a yeeeehah scream. Trivial things. Insignificant things. Trump, on the other hand, has said the vilest things any presidential candidate has said since George Wallace, and he’s rising in the polls.
He has boasted that he could shoot someone dead on Fifth Avenue and still not lose any votes. I am beginning to think he was right.
You do not have to like Hillary. You do not have to like Cersei or Dany or, hell, the weird little tit-suckle cousin creature who almost married Sansa. WE CANNOT HAVE THE ORANGE RAMSJOFF MONSTER.
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