The Minutes of Our Last Meeting – Trump’s Biggly Funeral Plans
Then take my body and put me behind the wheel of a golf cart strapped to a rocket ship and have the Space Force blast me to the stars.
Then take my body and put me behind the wheel of a golf cart strapped to a rocket ship and have the Space Force blast me to the stars.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”