https://t.co/rwofUbvuG2 — where self-pity flows like wine. I guess he forgets the torment he and his friends inflicted when my wife died.
— The Fat Man (@FatManPodcast) February 3, 2017
Of course, from Elkridge to St. Francis to Clinton, the self-pity of the guy who needed pity so badly he faked fucking Parkinson’s disease for 16+ years flows like fear pee.
Hot, wet and stinky.
Like a certain truck stop dolly.