American Shithole #13 — Sean Hannity's Pain Is My Coping Mechanism
It was still a beautiful day; immediately made all the more beatific, as Sean Hannity’s universe was suddenly shat upon by life’s equivalent of an elephant anus to the face, at point blank range.
By morning, he had decided he needed somewhere nobody cared about theater, someplace where the name Chekhov was more likely to be mistaken for a rifle than a playwright.