Somewhere in the marble-smeared undercarriage of democracy—possibly a press crypt retrofitted with gold drapes and a faint scent of nacho cheese—Pete Hegseth, Fox’s resident warrior-poet and Trump’s unofficial pressroom field general, took the stage with the flair of a substitute gym teacher assigned to teach theology.
Brilliant, Bill! I laughed very hard because you nailed Hegseth! He is the consummate smarmy doofus and so pathetic it makes my head spin! Total nonsense and gobbledygook. That's what comes of selling your soul to the village devil. At this point I can't figure out why anyone would believe what comes out of Trump's mouth…
He doesn’t realize he’s the unknown comic.
Judy, he was amped up on Trump cologne.
Huge laugh out loud!!!
Brilliant, Bill! I laughed very hard because you nailed Hegseth! He is the consummate smarmy doofus and so pathetic it makes my head spin! Total nonsense and gobbledygook. That's what comes of selling your soul to the village devil. At this point I can't figure out why anyone would believe what comes out of Trump's mouth…