Caustic Course of Presidential Hopefuls One Menu Item at a Time

Fast Food or Casual Dining Politics Served Up Daily

What I Learned at the Granny Academy by Hillary Rodham, Student Body President: A Blow Job May Get You a Second Date, But It Won't Get You Pregnant. You Actually Have to Fuck Somebody for That.

Language the Clinton Foundation Understands:
Granny, You're Too Old, Too Fat and Too Late. Move On.
Or Buy This Website For A Million Campaign Dollars and Silence Another Critic.
Dot Org.

Here's a delightful and completely rational tag team match: How about Granny Clinton and Brother Bush versus Fauxcahontas Warren and Brainy (S)anders.

People with no money pay a human traffic smuggler thousands of dollars so he can get them over the fence that rings my swimming pool in Beverly Hills. After they're inside the grounds they collectively fall into the deep end and desperately tread water while the smuggler calls me on my cell phone to come out and rescue them. As they are pulled from the pool, they recover on the patio. They let me know they are starving by crowding around the gas grill. I take them into the dining room and feed the multitudes while arranging guestrooms through the auspices of AirBNB and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
People Who Need People Are The Luckiest People in the World.

Okay, so I murdered Compaq and got HP to commit suicide.  I was ready to be a great governor or senator. I can't remember which. But the people of California told me in no uncertain terms that they just didn't like me. Hey, they didn't like Meg Whitman either, but that twit Barbara  Boxer, her they liked.  Go figure. I'm Carly and I approve of myself in a big way.

My name is Ben Carson and people whose brains aren't working trust me to make things right.

Apropos Brain Salad, Bernie Sanders actually thinks people will vote for someone older than Hillary Clinton.

Ain't Gonna Work on Granny's Farm No More.

All right, I'm HRC. Two and A Half Billion Dollars Says Put Your Fat Fuckin' Ass In a Seat.

Ain't Gonna Work on Granny's Farm No More.

You know a vote for Barack Obama made you feel young and hopeful, regardless of your age or condition. A vote for Granny Clinton is just going to make you feel old and resigned.

Ain't Gonna Work on Granny's Farm No More.

Not Your SAT and LSAT Scores from the Middle of the Last Century. We Want to Know How You Did on the Mini Mental State Examination. That's Apple Penny Table in the Corner While You Draw a Clock Face on Your Placemat, Granny.

Ain't Gonna Work on Granny's Farm No More.

Hello, Sheldon. My Name is Jeb Bush and I'll be Your President This Evening and Every Evening for the Next Eight Years.

I'm Scott Walker. May I recommend the Iowa Caucus Pudding. It's a delightful blend of White Rice, White Milk, White Bread (with Crust Removed) and Egg Whites Baked by Our Lovely Iowa Neighbors in the White Sided House with the White Picket Fence.

No tipping, please. I'm Lizzie Warren, and I'll just leave this tomahawk on the table while we wait for a decent minimum wage.

it's rand paul, not paul rand. my mother was Mrs. Paul, not ayn rand. we're serving fish sticks. i want to be president with a small p. like i said, we're serving fish sticks.

Down Texas Way They Call Me Professor Perry. Let's face it we seen what brains can do these last several years. I say give Pecos a Chance.

I Heart Huckabees, and Jay Z and Sister Souljah and really any Christian: Man Woman or Trans. You want Guns and Gravy with those Fries?

Marco                                                                                                       Rubio.

Hi, Chris here. Hey, where'd everybody went?

You're telling me I could be Brad Pitt, Charlie Bronson and Christopher Reeve rolled into one, and just because I happen to be a Mormon, I can't win?