Whoever's running Hillary's oppo department should be fired immediately. Because obviously no one in this country cares anymore about what you inhaled or even insufflated as a boy. But while the interns were paper-cutting themselves through Dreams from My Father searching for crack, everyone seemed to have missed the shocking admission on page 37 of the memoir, recounting Barry's childhood in Indonesia:
...I learned how to eat small green chili peppers raw with dinner...and, away from the dinner table, I was introduced to dog meat...!!!!!! Apparently, Snoopy tastes "tough." I'm just as tolerant as the next guy, but America is not ready for a dog-eater in the White House. Of course the media's not asking the tough question on this. But make no mistake: a vote for canine-fusion cuisine is a vote for the end of the Enlightenment. Ugh, I can't look at him now without seeing the tail wagging in his disgusting flabby stomach. How could you?