Cory Booker’s Mouth Marathon: The Left’s Oral Glory Hole

Cory Booker, the self-anointed Spartacus of the Senate, decided to grace us with a 25-hour verbal colonoscopy that left nothing on the table except a steaming pile of the same tired, election-losing drivel the Bullshit Left has been shoveling since 2016. Twenty-five hours. 1,500 minutes. 90,000 seconds of pure, unadulterated hot air—and not a single coherent point to show for it. This wasn’t a filibuster. This wasn’t a principled stand. This was a tantrum in a tailored suit, a one-man melodrama so pointless it makes AOC’s Instagram Live rants look like Gettysburg Addresses.

Let’s get this straight: Booker didn’t cry and blabber for a cause. He didn’t stall some grand legislative betrayal (though God knows the Uniparty’s always got one cooking). No, this clown just did it because he could—because the spotlight’s warm, the cameras are rolling, and these drama bitches live for the applause of their own echo chamber. He sobbed, he gesticulated, he probably quoted MLK for the 47th time this month—and at the end of it, the Republic was no safer, no wiser, and no freer. Just 25 hours closer to the heat death of the universe. Bravo, Cory. Truly the hero we don’t deserve.

The Left’s Greatest Hits: A Circus of Stupidity

This isn’t even Booker’s first rodeo in the Theater of the Absurd—it’s just the latest encore in the Bullshit Left’s traveling circus of self-ownage. Let’s rewind the tape on these geniuses, shall we? Remember Rep. Jamaal Bowman, the intellectual titan who pulled a fire alarm in a House office building like a middle-school prankster because—get this—there wasn’t an emergency? Charged and fined, he still whined about “systemic injustice” while the rest of us wondered how this guy ties his shoes without a DEI handbook.

Or how about that time the Dems turned the Senate into a literal porn set? Yeah, you didn’t hallucinate that—some staffer got caught filming anal escapades in a hearing room, because apparently “public service” now includes servicing each other on taxpayer dime. Classy. And now here comes Cory, mouth open wider than a Capitol Hill glory hole, spewing nothing but sanctimonious word salad for over a full day. Same energy, different orifice. These people don’t govern—they perform. And the script? It’s a tragedy rewritten as a farce.

The Playbook: Cry, Lie, and Waste Everyone’s Time

What’s the game here? Simple. The Bullshit Left lost the plot years ago—elections, ideas, moral high ground, you name it—and now they’re down to stunts and sob stories. Booker’s marathon wasn’t about policy; it was about vibes. It’s the same playbook they’ve been running since Trump danced down that escalator: scream loud, cry hard, and hope the media spins it into “courage.” Spoiler alert: the American people aren’t buying the sob act anymore. We’re too busy paying $5 for gas and dodging migrant caravans to clap for Cory’s Oscar reel after 25 hours of nothing.

This is cultural Marxism on life support—woke authoritarianism so desperate it’s resorted to performance art. They can’t win on substance, so they lean on spectacle. Pull a fire alarm. Bang in the Senate. Monologue until the janitors file for overtime. Anything to avoid the real conversation: why their ideas suck, their cities are crumbling, and their voters are jumping ship faster than rats off the Titanic. Booker’s not a senator—he’s a prop, a political prostitute.. Think Cory Hooker! 

Wake Up and Laugh, America

Here’s the kicker: while Cory’s busy turning the Senate into his personal therapy couch for 25 straight hours, the rest of us are out here watching the deep state rig the game, the DOJ weaponize itself against dissenters, and the globalist machine try to sandblast our borders into oblivion. The retarded Left doesn’t care about that—they’re too busy staging their next viral moment. But the jig’s up. We see the grift. We smell the flop sweat. And we’re done pretending these clowns deserve a seat at the adult table.

So let’s give Cory Booker the sendoff he’s earned: a slow clap, a single tear, and a one-way ticket back to irrelevance. The broken left can keep crying, screwing, and grandstanding all they want—America’s too busy winning to care. Take your 25-hour "mouth job" somewhere else Spartacus the only thing you’ve filibustered is your own dignity.

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