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Hi, I’m Nancy Pelosi and I will beat your ass six ways from Sunday. And then all the rest of the days of the week for good measure.
You think I won’t? Why don’t you come over here and test me? You might want to wear a cup.
Hell yeah, I threatened to kick Donald Trump’s ass if he came up to the Capitol on January 6. I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kick the ever-loving fuck out of that banana-brained egg yolk since 2015. Hell, I’ve wanted to kick the ever-loving fuck out of him since I was reading Spy back in the ’90s.
You ever seen an 82-year-old grandmother who also happens to be the third-highest-ranking member of our federal government, taking down a man like Battling Siki taking down Georges Carpentier? Well, you’re gonna see it. I’m taking off my earrings and fueling up on beef jerky as we speak.
You’ve seen the footage, shot by my lovely daughter/corner woman Alexandra, who happened to be with me that day. So you know it wasn’t just that I threatened to punch that orange baboon in the face, but that I would be happy to go to jail over it. Yeah, I would have done it. You think jail scares me, buddy? I gave birth to five kids AND I have to work with Kevin McCarthy, a man so dumb that we list in the Congressional Record every day that he doesn’tcome to work with his pants on backwards. And it is a short goddamn list, I can assure you. Jail would be a lazy fucking day kicking a hacky sack around Golden fucking Gate Park compared to all of that.
Shoot, put me in your darkest, dankest prison. Throw me in the hole with no toilet, toss in some raw chicken or a bowl of uncooked beans once a day, and I’ll do my time with a fucking smile on my face.
I mean, can you believe the nerve of that girdle-wearing thing out of a 1950s sci-fi drive-in movie? Wanting to march on Capitol Hill with his insane followers? Assuming he’s even capable of getting up a hill without some very complicated series of pulleys and hoists? Which he’s probably not. I once saw him get winded walking from one end of the Cabinet Room to the other, so I wouldn’t be too hopeful about him taking on any distance longer than his own dick.
Motherfucker! I’m madder than Dan White on a Twinkie binge. I’m madder than the Zodiac Killer. I’m madder than a coked-out tech bro whose VC funding just went kablooey. I’m so mad I might as well be trying to find a parking space in North Beach.
No one was madder than me on January 6. No one. Chuck Schumer, God bless him, a lovely man, but even at his maddest he still sounds like a rabbi lecturing a bar mitzvah kid for not practicing his Torah portion. Did you see that clip of him interrupting me when I said I had just gotten off the phone with the vice president? And he jumps in with “Well, I just got off the phone with the vice president-elect?” And then I glared at him and he fumbled around for a second before shutting the fuck up?
It’s like, buddy, which one of them has more power right now, right this second while we’re trying to resolve this situation? Which of us is president at the end of the day if the mob tears Mike Pence limb from limb and then Trump cheers so loudly his brain explodes? It ain’t gonna be Chuck Schumer of the Flatbush Schumers, I can tell you that.
No, it was going to be me, Nancy D’Alesandro Pelosi, First of Her Name, flying in on my killer dragon backwards and in heels, to lead our nation through this crisis where a bunch of whiny toddlers dressed up like their favorite army men and tried to overturn an election, all because the rotted pile of rat corpses they worship as a god displayed all the dignity of a perforated septic bowel when he lost an election. Though let’s be honest, he displays all the dignity of a perforated septic bowel when he wins an election, too.
Whew! Goddamn! I am fired up! I think I’ll climb up to the top of the Capitol dome and throw Confederate statues at low-flying aircraft until I calm down.
Give me an hour. And then send that fuck-knuckle Steve Scalise to my office. Tell him he might want to put on a helmet first.
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