The Gang of Six (working to solve our nation's debt crisis) look like they should be giving a waitress a hard time at a roadside Cracker Barrel. One look at them and their who-just-farted expressions and I know these are the men I want in charge of my nation's credit card.
I find confidence in a group of men who all part their hair on the same side.
But seriously, they look like they need a calculator to figure out the tip.
Is it too much to ask to get a vagina in the gang? I'm not asking for half a dozen Beavers to build a damn the Johnsons can't penitrate; I'm just asking for one. Two would be better, three would be miraculous, but one is necessary.
Or is it too creepy to have a vagina at the table because it could be bleeding? I know how squeamish a penis can get around a tampon.
Women have come a long way, but not far enough. There's still no room at the old white dick's table for a vagina. If you're a woman and you've ever waited tables--it doesn't have to be at the Cracker Barrel--you know what I'm talking about: Sitting down is never part of the agreement.
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