Crying Like A Bitch (or, What Would Tommi Do?)

Some people have no pride. No guts. No game.

Here's the Dukester. So he has some good friends who take care of him, and, naturally, friends return favors. What's so bad about that? Isn't that what friendship is all about? So he likes nice things. Who doesn't? I like nice things myself. Sue me.

So a bunch of 'soak the rich' liberal commie moonbats get their frilly pink panties in a twist - about what? That the Dukester is a swell guy and a loyal friend, and maybe has a little sump'n-sump'n to show for it? A little bling-bling? They're just jealous that they don't have nice friends, so they have to attack the people who do.

Really, 'corruption' is such an ugly word, don't you think?

Oh, sure, last summer he sounded like a stand-up guy, giving as good as he got. He swore up and down (a regular thing with him, the swearing) that he was completely innocent and would be vindicated, that he had never ever done anything that was not honest and aboveboard, that his whole life was one big shining example of sanctimonious righteousness. That he would fight those base and baseless charges to the bitter end.

Turns out, though, that when the 'bitter end' came along, he cried like a bitch. Like he just got pimp-slapped, clutching at his reddened, tear-stained cheek in horror and shame. What kind of man is that? No kind, if you ask me. A girly-man. A weak sister.

Now, Tommi - he's a man. You won't catch my Tommi blubbering like a baby who's peed his diaper. Never complain, never explain.

Tommi knows that you never, never, never admit wrongdoing of any kind, ever. Just attack back. The best defense is a great offense. Hold your head high. Smile when you say that, son. Show those pearly whites. It's worked like a charm so far. You wait, he'll be back as Majority Leader in no time, while the Dukester is filling up his dance card up to the Big House.