Maureen Dowd gets mini-fisked, which sounds: 1) Slightly dirty, and; 2) Which is kinda cool.
It’s times like these my inner frat boy steps forward, pops open a fresh cold one, and declares that bitter, uptight slitch needs a good jumpin’ on the old meat trampoline. If ya know what I mean.
Fisk-fuscked up the ask, perhaps?
bwaa haaa haaa
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