Somebody tell Senator Coons that a “survivor” is somebody from Hiroshima, Dresden, or the Bataan Death March, not a 15 year-old who illicitly drinks until she can’t remember where she was but, like every sodden slut, only had “one beer” before deciding to pull a train at a party. Thirty-six (36) years later, she tries to dump her guilt on a man, any man, the more outstanding, the better. The theory is: “If a straight-arrow like him was there, maybe I’m not such a trollop after all.” For guidance, consult any psychologist.

PS: Kirsten Gillibrand grabbed my crotch when I was twelve. Now, you know this is true because I accuse her of it. If all women must be believed, all men must be believed, or every liberal on the planet is a sexist.

NOTE: Unlike Keith Ellison’s friend, who has hospital records and a police report, I cannot recall when or where it happened, how I got there, or how I got home, but I am absolutely, positively certain that I had one (1) beer. Do-dah.

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