A young girl named Shree chimped out on the White House Press Secretary, Sean Spicer, the other day for merely existing. Lacking all of the basic rules of decorum set forth by thousands of years of evolution, this young lady tossed barbarous questions at dear, sweet, Sean — asking him how it felt to work for a treasonous Russian racist fascist bastard, replete with orange tones and idiotic red hats.
It wasn’t long before Sean tucked tail and ran out of the store — likely to cower underneath his silk sheets for having met face to face with such primordial barbarity.