Once again Looser Guccifer 2.0 has come forward to The Guard Dog to blow the whistle and serve the public on what is still dark and unknown.
Ms. Clinton and Mr. Mueller followed up on release of The Mueller Report with a private party at Club Methuselah in Washington D.C.
Asked whether The Mueller Report is accurate, Looser Guccifer 2.0 responded:
“This hack speaks for itself.”
In Club Methuselah, Hillary and Mr. Mueller were merry plus inclined to argue. At times, Mr. Mueller was half under the table while crooning in a deep baritone:
“Oh, you must have been a beautiful baby, but, baby, look at you now . . .”
“Bob, Bob . . . please.”
“Well, Hill, you know it was a damn good thing you turned us on to that Crowdstrike stuff . . . Otherwise, we wouldn't have known the Russians hacked the DNC!"
Hillary slammed her fist on the table.
“Just because Crowdstrike works for me! Don't make too much of that! At least you made sure to connect up the Russians and Julian Assange!"
“Well, now, Hill, did I say all that? Well, I think it’s in the report.”
“Well, it is, Bob. In a way. Of course, with all the redacted this and that, the black marks here and there, it is, at times, a bit thick."
"Plus, Bob, and I hate to say this, the report gives the impression you got your info ONLY from the DNC people—that would be me, ha ha!”
“When you were only startin’ to go to kindergarten, I’ll bet you drove the little boys wild . . .”
“Bob, maybe you’d better lay off that—what is it you’re drinking? The Vodka Passion Thursday Special—”
“Hell, Hill. Let me relax a little bit. We got at least two things. Maybe three? Well, anyway, at least one. Maybe, he was obstructing justice?”
“Or thinking about it!”
“There you go, Hill. And another thing is all that stuff on the GRU hacking, and all that, we got on to that. And it really took everybody's attention off the DNC dirt."
"You know. Your shenanigans pushing Bernie out of the way for the nomination.”
“So? What are you suggesting? This is politics, isn’t it?”
“No offense, Hill. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“But, Bob, your report clears him of any kind of contact with Putin whatever! Is that what we wanted?
“I can see the judges’ eyes as they handed you the prize, I’ll bet you made the cutest bow . . .”
“Bob, please! Get out from underneath the table right away, Bob! They’re looking over! Bob! Bob!”
“Oh, you must have been a beautiful baby, ‘cause, baby, look at you now . . .”