Colbert, are you there?
Maximum bitch rant. This is me. I want to be the maximum bitch. Bitchiness that I can.
I’m sorry, I need to stop using that word. It’s misogynistic and whatever, but when I grew up, it didn’t, that’s what it meant. It wasn’t about women. It’s just that you don’t, you know, it’s just, you’re just being a fucking bitch. It’s not about women. It’s about, like, it’s, you know, I could use a more homophobic term, but I don’t want to because I feel like that hurts.
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Anyway, whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s probably because I’m self-servingly trying to defend sensitive men, and I’d rather insult all women than use a word that is the one that I’m coming for, you know?
Anyway, Stephen Colbert, you could have written every fucking thing I’ve ever written without blinking, without blinking. Why? Where are you? Why aren’t you writing? Why are you, like, God, Steven, what are you doing? There is nothing that you’re doing that is worth more than fighting fucking fascism. I don’t want to hear your fucking monologue, Steven. I’m not going to fucking. No one’s listening to your monologue.
Right, sir. Right. WRI-GHT. Pick up the pen. No, I don’t understand how to spell. WR-I-T-E. Ha ha ha ha. Sorry. That’s literally. I don’t know how to spell. I’m dyslexic or something. Unless that was a reference to the Wright brothers. But anyway, go to the fucking. Steven, I need you to go. Founding Father.
