Quinn Perkins slaps a photo of a nice white lady onto the wall of the conference room for Olivia Pope and her associates to see. “Our newest client: Linda Cameltoe. 46 years old, turning 3 in January due to unfortunate leap year timing.”
President Donald Trump invited President Vladimir Putin, along with Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India to the Group of Seven (G7) Summit. Australia, Brazil, and South Korea have also shown interest in joining the G7 Summit which is now being held in September. When asked why President Trump invited Russia, Trump said, “I just really need a friend right now.” Canada and other nations disagreed with Trump’s decision. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s comments on inviting Russia, “All Russia does is cause drama. We get to do this once a year, I don’t want Russia to ruin a good time. Like hello, Crimea? Such a dick move.” Boris Johnson, the United Kingdom’s Prime Minister, was especially displeased, “Seriously? They tried to kill one of my agents. And I thought if I did my hair like Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin would welcome us with open arms.”
If this article is not read, I believe I have the perfect reason. Is it a lack of readers? No. More rather, it is because of our current sitting president, Donald Trump! After all, Trump is to blame for everything regarding the Coronavirus. Despite the fact that China is the real culprit behind the virus, let us instead blame Trump because...why not?
Imagine a gun. You don’t have to imagine it, it’s right here in the kitchen, lying on the counter, painfully naked and exposed beneath the dying golden light of the setting sun. The gun looks brand new; black, shiny, unscathed - a classic Smith & Wesson build, almost too perfect. The magazine, full of bullets, lays next to it. You don’t really know where it came from or how it got there, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, and you reach forward to wrap your fingers around the handle. As you lift it off the marbled surface of the counter you revel in the comfortable weight of it in your hand, and it fascinates you to no end. Your finger brushes against the trigger, gently, tentatively. Slowly and deliberately, your grip closes more firmly and you raise it to eye level, the barrel pointed squarely at a framed picture of your parents on the opposite side of the room. It’s well-balanced. You think you might shoot some cans and bottles out on the porch the next day. This is a handgun, but you also have a sawed-off shotgun in the shed, and a semi-automatic rifle hanging above the mantelpiece in your living room, like it’s your most prized possession. Occasionally, you go game-hunting; you think of it as a rewarding and stress-relieving activity.
I have been on Facebook for six years. In that time, I have not stated that I am a supporter of the Conservative Party. The nearest I have got to expressing such support is when I have openly declared that I have agreed with what a Conservative Member of Parliament has said independent of the party line.
iSpeak Polling Finds Polls Inaccurate Quite a Lot
I don’t understand politics. I’ve absolutely no idea what any of it means and what is actually going on with this country half the time. Brexit? Oh yeah, I’m going there. Up until recently I didn’t understand it what with the whole deal/No deal situation. Like, is Noel Edmonds gonna pop out from nowhere in a minute and say ‘psych, you’re actually on my gameshow!’? People can literally have a debate about Brexit in front of me, even shout about it in my face, and I will stand there with dead eyes and a blank expression taking not one single point in.
He jauntily popped the last breakfast sausage between his thin and oily lips, chewed quickly, and swallowed a little too soon. As he rose from the table with a slight grunt, he placed his dirty plate with crumbs and untouched broccoli on the designated spot on the large table that would let the server know it could be taken away, winked at his wife, and strode with vigor towards the stacks of clean white plates. With a sneer on his lips and a half-formed insult in his mind, he rumbled past the salad bar with its bowls of plain lettuce, Caesar salad, vinaigrette salad, chickpea salad, corn salad, and other assorted raw vegetables.
“I disapprove of what you say but I will defend... etc, etc, etc”
A tired man, down to his last tenner, pauses in the sea of umbrellas after a miserable day at the races. He's bored of seeing the same odds, presented by the bookies who all look the same, but just have different names.
This movie—this epoch—represents centuries of culminating cinematography and screenwriting efforts of the world's greatest minds. Together, they singlehandedly fed their creative muses into the mind of the great master, Jason Steele. Only he could siphon the powers of such amazing intellects and slush it into a singularity of the greatest movie of all times. Only he could interpret the collective unconscious of the super-unknown!