She doesn’t give a shit she just wants to save face and keep herself from being the next member of trump’s party to get fired and get the “I barely knew them” treatment.
“I wish her well. Never met her.”
May have?! Here’s a shovel. Dig yourself a deeper hole.
She’s feeling the heat right now. Only a matter of time. Miller and Bondi starting to sweat.
Too bad a dog can’t come along and shoot her.
Gimme a few weeks, I could probably train one.
Someone start the lettuce clock.
I dream of Noem visiting a certain gravelpit.
As far as a narc can ever go without admitting fault.
“We were being relayed information from on the ground from CBP agents and officers that were there,” Noem said. “We were using the best information we had at the time.”
Under the jail. Their crimes are laid out in front of us, in multiple angles. Guilt has already been determined.
Noem is a cancer dressed up with extensions. She is garbage; rotten.
Every night before bed, Kristi Noem takes her prosthetic face off, and wishes the world would accept a person who has sex with animals, like herself. Her children have all taken out restraining orders against her, barring Kristi from being within 1000 feet of their pets. She’ll bang a bird, fuck a dog, or 69 any cat that meets her gaze. She had to kill that one dog because it developed feelings for her. She’s not in it for the tricks—her family has a long and sordid history of fucking both wild and domesticated animals.
They’re all pointing fingers and blame trying to save their own skins. This administration is filled with liars that will turn on each other in a second, and lie about each other if it helps them.
