For 6 months Sean Spicer tried his hardest to make the inane ramblings of an orange, perma tanned, wizen faced, shit gibbon, appear presidential, by stuttering, rocking uncomfortably on his feet and talking down The Third Reich, to make Trump’s administration appear more human and compassionate.
The miniature balding castrato spent his tenure looking like a rabbit trapped in Stephen King’s IT’s dead lights, only he was the clown and truth was the shit spider at the end.
Unless you ignore the time he was the Whithouse easter bunny. He fucking loved that. All that corruption, all those lies, wrapped up in a silent character, like a pre investigation Trump Russian counterpart.
Bye Sean. We’ll miss you, like equality, civil liberties, you sphere headed, question dodging, podium holder.