Strictly a hypothetical beer

Matt Margolis offers a thought experiment, which I found at Jimmie’s Sundries Shack:

If you could have a beer with any politician, living or dead, who would it be?

Easy: Hubert H. Humphrey. So I could punch him in the teeth and say, “That’s on behalf of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, you shallow, contemptible and hopelessly dishonest old hack!”

Then I’d smash my Corona bottle on the bar, grab that filthy scumbag by his collar and hold the jagged bottle edge to his fat little throat:

“Oh, it’s not just for that shabby little deal with Daley in ’68, you vicious pimp. Don’t think the American people will ever forgive you for being the first major-party presidential candidate to advocate socialized medicine. I could slice you open like a carp, you miserable twerp, but I’m not gonna do it, and you’re probably wondering why. It’s this way, Hube: You’re not even worth the hassle of pleading insanity, so I could spend every evening for the rest of my life porking second-shift nurses at St. Elizabeths. Now, get out of here and don’t come back, punk. If you ever cross my path again, it will be your last day on earth, and the best thing that ever happened to the nursing staff at St. Elizabeths.”

Of course, it’s only a hypothetical . . . Like a cowardly swine, Hube was shrewd enough to die before I ever got my shot at him.

Update: by Smitty
Great POWIP post with dialogue outtakes from the Suds Summit.

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