Arrr! Trump or Harris be the rum choices, but at this tavern, matey, not a soul be castin' a vote!
2024-09-13
Avast, me hearties! I set sail to a curious cove in West Virginia, where the landlubbers I chatted with had me jaw droppin’! I reckon Kamala Harris and Donald Trump ought to parley with these scallywags—talk about a treasure trove of surprises! Arrr, 'twas a jolly good time!
Ahoy mateys! Gather 'round as I spin ye a yarn of me visit to Crockett’s Lodge in the fine port of Star City, West Virginia. There, I found a merry crew of 15 souls, yet a shocking 12 of ‘em be shunning the sacred ballot! They be full of tales ‘bout the state of politics, claimin’ their votes be as useful as a barnacle on a ship’s hull!Upon enterin’, I realized me garb was more suited fer a fancy gala than a tavern filled with salty seadogs. Instead of a dapper button-down, I should’ve donned me tattered Troy Vincent Eagles jersey! First, I spoke with a scallywag named Rock, who declared all politicians be criminals—“What’s the difference?” he asked! But even the fair bartender, looking as fine as treasure, said, “Voting? What’s the point?”
So I pressed on, chattin’ with young lads who thought their votes wouldn’t change a thing, ‘cause Trump be sittin’ pretty in West Virginia. One lad, Joe, fancied Harris ‘cause he thought she’d toss him a few doubloons, but I questioned if she’d only raise the price of grog! They all felt forgotten and longed for a simple life—like Rock, who just wanted to smoke his peace pipe in tranquility.
In the end, these landlubbers be yearning for a captain who can steer ‘em toward hope! If Harris or Trump can rouse this crew, it’ll be a landslide, but so far, they be left wanting! Yarrr!