|
Hillary will run as independent when Bernie gets the DNC nod
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 13:07
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 2, 2024 09:44 |
|
|
Pierogi posted:Hillary will run as independent when Bernie gets the DNC nod Hillary wins the nom BUT picks Lieberman for a running mate and gets booed off every stage.
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 13:48
|
|
|
Bernie Sanders wins a few primary contests -- New Hampshire, Oregon, Washington, Vermont, Maine, Alaska......but doesn't crack 40% in the big contests in FL/NY/CA/TX. He does better than Bill Bradley's 21% and John Edward's 20% but he does have a ceiling. Hillary wins the nomination, and faces off against Scott Walker in the general, easily winning with around 300-320 EVs. Trump doesn't run as an independent. :boring:
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 16:21
|
|
|
Idiot Kicker posted:Hillary wins the nom BUT picks Lieberman for a running mate and gets booed off every stage. she'd deserve it in a sea of poo poo, joe lieberman is a festering bolus of rat semen
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 16:34
|
|
|
railroad terror posted:Bernie Sanders wins a few primary contests -- New Hampshire, Oregon, Washington, Vermont, Maine, Alaska......but doesn't crack 40% in the big contests in FL/NY/CA/TX. He does better than Bill Bradley's 21% and John Edward's 20% but he does have a ceiling. Hillary wins the nomination, and faces off against Scott Walker in the general, easily winning with around 300-320 EVs. Trump doesn't run as an independent. :boring: oregon's primary is so late i don't think there's any way it would actually factor in
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 16:35
|
|
|
nightmare scenario: trump and sanders win the primaries trump has a minor stroke and subsequently insists on running just as non-negatively as sanders does. "i respect my opponent and i will commit to running the classiest campaign this country has ever seen!" somehow he actually manages to follow through.
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 16:43
|
|
|
The only thing I want to see more than a Sanders v. Trump debate is a Biden v. Trump debate.
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 16:56
|
|
|
At the Republican National Convention, Trump reveals that he has replaced all of the major candidates in both parties with robots loyal to him and assumes the both the Republican and Democratic nominations by fiat. Bernie Sanders unmasks himself as Superman, handily defeats the Robot Candidate Army, and banishes Trump to the Phantom Zone, but is ruled ineligible for the Presidency by the Supreme Court because he was not born on Earth. With every remotely viable candidate out of the running, the election becomes a three-way race between Vermin Supreme, Deez Nuts, and Jim Gilmore. Pigasus wins the election thanks to a last-minute write-in campaign.
|
|
#
?
Aug 13, 2015 21:25
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 2, 2024 09:44 |
|
|
You are awakened by a swift kick in your stomach. "Get up liberal dog!" says the Marine standing over you. He is a tall man with a slight southern drawl that you can barely make out through his respirator and mask. "Get up! Get up or do we need to give you a poke with the Aborter?" the Marine next to him says holding up a hooked blade in one hand. "Would like that wouldn't you? Just like all those babies you helped kill." You stand up. Darwin you hurt everywhere. Hungry too. Haven't had a good meal since the Inauguration day. Just enough to keep you working. "Listen up you godless democrats! Today you will be making bullets! It turns out we didn't have enough for all the Reds, Soviets, or Illegals! We only need a few thousand more!" Screams one of the Marines. The other Marine chuckles. "Now get moving!" You all begin shuffling out of your barracks onto the walk paths towards the building you help the war effort at. Other stream out of surrounding buildings. You look around at the crowds. Everyone is filthy, malnourished. You look down at your self. Can barely make out the words "Sanders for President." You look up at the sky. It is overcast. No that is not right. It isn't the sky. It is the smoke, chemicals, and ashes of the corporate factories supplying the war effort and feeding the millions who voted straight R. You walk into your work building. Rows and rows of stations in front of you. You know yours. 9 rows ahead, turn right, 11 seats down. You arrive at your station. There is the morning gift for you. A small bowl of corn meal and a small Styrofoam cup full of Koch: the official drink of working. You eat it quickly having learned if you don't they take it or you away. It helps the pain in your abdomen go away. You sit at your station. A small press is in front of you. Casings, projectiles, and powder in their places. You sign in relief. The amount is less than yesterday. Maybe you will get to sleep longer than 3 hours. You begin to work. Hours pass. You drift away as the monotonous work numbs your mind. You begin to think of better times. A time of government subsidized healthcare. A time of regulations and standards. A time of Hope. You are startled back into reality by a scream. The person in front of you is holding their hand and sobbing. Marines rush over. "What happened socialist!" yells the first to arrive. "I got my hand caught in the press," the person says. Their voicing growing in panic they say "I can work still see!" They begin to fumble with the casings and press. It won't work it is a two hand job you know it. How many have you seen this happen to? How many? You feel your self beginning to fill with rage. "This isn't going to work," a second Marine says, "sounds like we need to take you to the panels." The person screams. The anger boils. You stand. "What are you doing? Don't do it!" your mind screams. "This wouldn't have happened if OSHA and it's regulations was still around!" you bellow in a voice you did not think you could muster anymore. Oh no, you think to yourself. no no no. A Marine whips around, "Grab him to now! Silence him! Take him to the panels!" You are grabbed by two Marines. You try to fight, but have no strength. They drag you to the Clinic. You are rushed through the front doors, down a hall and through a number of doorways. Twisting and turning before stopping before one room. The Marines open the door and toss you in. It is pitch black. How many minutes pass? Ten? Thirty? Four Hours? You can not tell. Suddenly you are blinded by a light. On the wall in front of you is a screen with a black man. The Surgeon General! He smiles warmly, but it isn't warmth for you. "Hello citizen," the Surgeon General whispers. You can tell it is prerecorded. " I am here today to look over file and see if we can help you with your medical emergency. I'm sure I can help. I did separate Siamese twins that were connected at the head once. Well let us see here. Oh dear, oh dear. Looks like I have to subscribe bedtime. Good night citizen." You begin to hear a hiss noise. The screen changes to another face. You know this face. It is the face of your pain and suffering. The face of the GOP. Prime Minister of Canadian States of America Rafael Edward Cruz. His face oozes into a smile. "That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-Am....." he begins to say as your eyelids grow heavy.
|
|
#
?
Aug 14, 2015 19:36
|
|
