I have a lot of questions for Donald Trump. I’m sure you do too.
I’ve always wanted to participate in one of those town hall-style presidential debates so I could ask questions of my least favorite presidential candidates.
Unfortunately, people whose word I implicitly trust have told me I’d have to leave the house to do that, and since I’m basically Howard Hughes with a lot less money and marginally fewer urine jars, it’s never seemed feasible. My introversion is such that I have a very hard time making eye contact with strangers without the assistance of a Mason jar martini, a Snoop Dogg-sized spliff, and some kind of bold, visually arresting accessory to distract from my persistent and debilitating nervous tics, like a single gold hoop earring or a full-sized Mayor McCheese costume.