Don't tell me you didn't get with no hoes in N'Awlins.
Don't tell me you're a Nigerian prince who's had an unfortunate accident and needs to deposit a large amount of money in my bank account.
Don't tell me I can make thousands of dollars working from home.
Don't tell me bah bah bah bah bah, you're lovin' it.
Don't tell me you've got a bridge for sale.
Don't tell me to apply it directly to my forehead.
Don't tell me to tell ten people to send me ten dollars, then tell them to tell that to ten other people.
Don't tell me it's time for a fourth meal.
Don't tell me James Garner wants me to take out a reverse mortgage.
Don't tell me one of my deceased relatives ordered a monogrammed Bible for me, COD.
Don't tell me I can publish my poems in your journal for a low introductory rate.
Don't tell me I need a pill to keep my restless legs from bothering me at night.
Don't tell me you're concerned about the great deal of time multiple impeachment trials would take away from Congress working on the problems of the country, the time it would take for the House to consider articles of impeachment, and for the Senate to conduct multiple trials, would make it very difficult, if not impossible, for Congress to do what it was elected to do -- end the war and address some of the other terrible mistakes this administration has made over the past six-and-one-half years.
Because I ain't buyin' it.
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