THE GELATINOUS WORM & THE STREET BRAWLER

Marco Rubio, you gutless, mewling worm. A man so hollow you rattle when you walk, clinging to the pant leg of power like a desperate dog sniffing for scraps. You sat there, eyes wide, spine curling inward like a dead spider, watching Trump vomit madness into the air—nodding, grinning, praying to ev…