Pencilneck Liar

 

Schiffbuttholeface

 

 

With our sincere apology to the Beatles, the following is set to the tune of Paperback Writer

 

 

 

 

Dear Hollywood: will you read my script

It took me hours to write, my name is Adam Schiff

It’s based on a wet dream of the DNC

and I’ll need a job when they learn that I’m the Pencilneck Liar

Pencilneck Liar

 

It’s a dirty story of an evil man

and his dumb supporters who don’t understand

that they’re too stupid to know their own good

It’s a thankless task, but it’s the job of a Pencilneck Liar

Pencilneck Liar

 

It’s ten-thousand pages, give or take a few

I’ll be writing more in a day or two

It can be more salacious if you feel the need

I can rewrite it all because you know that I’m the Pencilneck Liar

Pencilneck Liar

 

I’ll be super famous, sell Disney the rights

Do the world premiere in my circus tights

When this is over you won’t find me here

I’ll be in Hollywood or in prison, I’m the Pencilneck Liar

Pencilneck Liar

 

Pencilneck Liar

Pants are on fire

Pencilneck Liar

Pants are on fire

Pencilneck Liar

 

Being for the benefit of Mr. Schiff

For the benefit of Mr. Schiff

hearings held within a SKIF

their words they parse

The diplomats will all be there

Counsel furnished by lawfare

What a farce

Secret hearings and depositions

designed to weave a lie into fake news

It’s no test

Oh Mr. S

will muzzle his foes!

The celebrated Mr. S

will shit his pants and then digress

on Watergate

Then CNN will dance and sing

while Mr. Schiff flies through the ring

Don’t be late!

Mr. Schiff plays up to the gallery

His authority is second to none

And for sure

Nancy the pure

is hitting the sauce

The fun resumes on Tuesday morn

when Mr. Schiff will show his scorn

for Mr. Trump

Then Nancy dear will vacillate

upon how she will evacuate

such a dump

Having been some months in preparation

A splendid time is guaranteed for all

Take a whiff

Mr. Schiff

is shitting his pants

Gazette and Pencilneck give it another go. Or not…

It had been some time since she had seen him in person. She had, of course, maintained an interest in his activities. Though he had gone relatively quiet for a time, there remained an ample collection of press conference and hearing appearances from which to observe. In recent months these had increased markedly in volume, again piquing her interest in the man who had so eagerly indulged her penetration fantasies. He still looked mostly the same, though there was something different.  He still presented a comical stick figure profile with those buggy eyes and bad haircut, yet there seemed to be a new confidence in him. It was almost as if he had actually grown a spine.

Though he had still called upon her periodically, the intimacy they had once shared was absent. For a brief time she had actually considered that dear Pencilneck had grown a set and gone the way of MGTOW. “Nah! Too beta for that!”, she had checked herself.  Being the same self-centered bitch as ever she returned to form, assuring herself that the Pencilneck’s renewed frequency in the spotlight could only be a signal that he would soon return to grovel for her help. And it was indeed true; he clearly had waded out into waters well over his head. It was only a matter of time before he came crawling back. Like all the rest of her desperate suitors. They always did.

After viewing his pathetic performance on Sunday 13 October she found herself in a quandary. This latest intrigue he had launched largely on his own. He certainly had not consulted her expertise in these matters. The entire escapade was amateurish from it’s inception. Even the most absolutely moronic soul in DC could see this. If only he had asked for her help before, but now? She dreaded the call. Not because of what she knew she must say, rather because of her immensely conflicted feelings.

She was at once drawn to him and repulsed by him. Drawn to his vulnerability. Vulnerability has been Gazette’s lifeblood throughout her long and storied career. These are the souls she has preyed upon and made her own for an age. She runs the cool kids club. This vulnerability, however, was born of the man’s own arrogance and stupidity. It was a sign of weakness and he wore it well. He now reeked of desperation and failure, two qualities which Gazette had long striven to distance herself from. She found an uncommon need to chastise herself, contrary as it is to her vain nature.

Though the Pencilneck could mouth all the correct platitudes by rote, he really never belonged in their club. He wasn’t as smart, he wasn’t really good looking at all. Not even interesting looking (which usually will suffice for entry). And most of all…..well, no matter how much lipstick you put on the pig, he just isn’t cool enough to be in the club. Cool enough is that certain je ne sais quoi that only Gazette and those of her innermost circle may define. You know. The sort of things beyond mere plebeian comprehension. She could see where it might be said that she was to blame for this: it was her fault for introducing him into the cool kids club. From this he had formed the delusion that he was capable of pulling this off on his own. It was almost sweet in a way. It was like he was trying to show off for her. Oh, would that it should not turn so tragic!

The reality of it was that he was now toxic. He might remain a source for some juicy leaks, but that would have to stay behind the curtain. He would, at least for a time, remain a tool. Just as he had always been. He came at a time when she was at her low ebb, giving up that booty to manifest her rage at being rejected. Used him up like a tampon. 

Studying that video carefully Gazette noted one detail that allowed her a moment of relief for the poor sap. In addition to an apparent spinal implant it became evident that Pencilneck had undergone some work of a cosmetic nature. That previously missed, subtle change in his appearance was about his mouth. A lip job, one supposes to say. It seems he’s had them molded in a perpetually pursed shape and….if one looks very carefully it will be noted that the inside of the lips have been tattooed with the caption: Caution- large brown logs entering and exiting roadway at this point.  He may be nothing but a tool, but there is something to be said for him embracing it.

 

Ford Wenty report end 16 October 2019

420

 

Bad Opera

Some say its Kabuki Theater

but I respectfully disagree

Its more like really bad opera

Practiced mediocrity

We hear the grand overture ringing

for the hero who is a tattler

And the fat lady you hear singing

is only Gerald Nadler

Theres chairman Schiff

as empty as Nessman’s office walls

Hes masquerading daily as a man

but he hasn’t any balls

And Nancy, that old crone

With her dentures all askew

orders more whiskey sours

while shes sorting out what to do

Its the comedy turned tragedy

right before our very eyes

Still the networks? They see nothing

Keep selling the same old lies