You gotta love fucking Rummy

I do. I mean, I did. When we were young. We were lovers for, what, ten years? More or less. Look at him. Who could resist him? That square fucking jaw. Those weird faggy St Laurent glasses. Those lips. That amazingly straight nnearly pathological part in his hair. The guy was fucking gorgeous. And the tiniest teeniest sweetest little cock you've ever seen. My nickname for it was "thimble". Oh, how we laughed. What a sense of humor. Those were the best days of my life, I think. We'd work all day at the Oval office with the old Ford roadster, Genius Gerry, we called him, and then we go home and fuck all night. That guy could kiss, let me tell ya. It makes me a little sad to hear all these fuckwit retired generals screaming for his head. But it might just be time for Thimble to call it a day. Time for a little falling on your sword action. It sure as fuck isn't going to be me taking the fall for Iraq.