Congressional Record

I live a life that straddles both sides of dismissiveness, my balls hanging directly between the inherently unworthy and those rendered unworthy by their disregard of me. If the balance of these races is sufficient, I feel free, surrounded almost exclusively by people who don’t like me and people who don’t mean anything anyway, kinda like the world is to begin with.

In such a world, I can do whatever the fuck I want. And the congressional Christmas party provided such a world, a room filled not just with the Yolos and the Stockmans, who deserve neither attention nor respect, but also worthy legislators of all power levels who, at best, don’t know why I’m around. As hired carolers piously harmonized on paeans to MangerBaby (named by God for the phrase used by Italian mothers to get their children to eat), I tried to induce the twenty-odd Jewish members of…

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