is what it is

16969, POTUS twit, 17+ laments the 25% loss because of hoaxes, summing with an, 'is what it is.'

'is-what-it-is' is Dem, the[D]s, in perfect lock-step of no-step, Sleeper keeps pace with Do Nothing. Of course the Do Nothing must DO NOTHING so they do not disturb the Sleeper. Waking him may well do them all in. The whole bunch is static, motionless, stationary, stuck, stagnate, status quo-ed. Their whole Movement pant-loaded. Dem, basement leeches, the epitome (ah-pity-me) of 'is-what-it-is.'

For over a decade in business I put up with the 'is-what-it-is' mentality always wishing to reach out and rip heart from the big nasty beast of daze, all the laze covered by haze of endless days. Like Joe, 'is-what-it-is' staggers in rest, masters the ease of effort-less, pro-ficient in D-ficient. 

'is-what-it-is' is not where I expect POTUS45 to finish, and certainly never linger. Post Hoxes, Russia/Ukraine/China/AntiFa, gathering a breath, laying down a trite marker as the survivor, well yea, some slack can get cut, this day, no longer.

25% missing is not a lament. It is a minimal target, an opportunity, mission on, focus, Joe's vulnerability. Only one poll measures truth and it is not until 11.3. Sleepy, if he paid attention, he'd be scared stiff of still losing that 25%, of his 50%, of those who muster to poll for him, honestly.

'is-what-it-is' must transform into, 'we-will-make-it.' Give me craze, the run with strays finding new ways, heat for braze and blaze, building the cheers of yeas. Stagnation is no American path. Not even 44 could hold us tight or down. We shot back toting and tauting 45.

Pandemic herded to home, social justice herded into streets. Do Nothing has shot their blanks, term-limited and terminated. Masks fall. 45 sounds, back to work, boom… boom, boom, boom, P, P, P. I see the light, starts as a starter pistol.

Fraud at any level will not master or muster 2020 election. Do Nothing will be branded 'Could Do Nothing' and 'Did Do Nothing'.

33, 50, subpoenas fly, see the little blue swamp rats run and the big blue RINOs squat. Filth is their lot. Give them jail rot, guilty their knot, TDS clot.