I started chuckling in the first segment.
By the time we saw Bush distracted by the swinging mike, I was openly giggling with glee.
As we got to the Randy Newman song with the silverware in the fake Pixar film, I was guffawing and waking the neighbors.
And then, I started crying.
By the time the commercials were half over, I was weeping.
This is a mild form of torture, to sit through 22 hours of fake news and then be able to see the truth from 8-9 PM and 11-12 PM.
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