Why I’ll never curse the presidential motorcade again
Please, block traffic. Tie up intersections. Drive down the wrong side of the street. No, those weren't my prized rose bushes—and they were clearly in your way. I know you were in a hurry. Do whatever you like. Be my guest. Behold, the presidential SUV: I don't know what's scarier, the 4,000 rounds-per-minute machine gun, ...
Please, block traffic. Tie up intersections. Drive down the wrong side of the street. No, those weren't my prized rose bushes—and they were clearly in your way. I know you were in a hurry. Do whatever you like. Be my guest.
Please, block traffic. Tie up intersections. Drive down the wrong side of the street. No, those weren't my prized rose bushes—and they were clearly in your way. I know you were in a hurry. Do whatever you like. Be my guest.
Behold, the presidential SUV:
I don't know what's scarier, the 4,000 rounds-per-minute machine gun, or the Miami Vice background music.
(Hat tip: Gizmodo)
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