Elena Lasconi is from the USR or UMSRRR party (Union Save What’s Left From România) and is on the ballot at number 1. Let her be somewhere in the first place!

The other days, I kept obfuscating some pro-USR trolls through some comments on Youtube, more specifically, why I think that Elena Lasconi is a fake, why she is an opportunistic trick meant to take and take votes from other extremists and let the wind blow astern, now that Șoșoacă is out, stick it to EU!

Well, a poster said that Lasconi, tha-daa, or the USR intellectuals could be the best choice or that they would be the least evil. I told them they could run for mayor and urged them to do it gladly.

Intellectual ladies and gentlemen, people with faculties, people with their heads screwed on right, or those who pooped on the potty since they were three months old, who say you are more thawed and who think you have better ideas than the current mayors – please do it!

If not for your commune that has suddenly become a city, well, more taxes, your town or metropolis, at least for diversity! Hic!

And I guarantee half of you will succeed. The world will choose you if you have yet to sell pans and toilet chains on TV, reading stupidly from some prompter like our Romanian Chuki did – esteemed Lasconi! Hic!

Many of you have more faculties than Mrs. Lasconi. Some of you may be construction engineers, real or cardboard entrepreneurs, heads of block ladders, people who pay attention in the neighborhood, sour pensioners, and rightly so, and you read more than her.

You don’t need a prompter; you can talk and think in real-time—in stereo. And you will not have required the PR bath that she did with the other candidates from other parties, who smeared their mouths with margarine on the Antena 3 TV channel.

I vote with whoever I vote for because even though she’s not much more brainless than Mrs. Lasconi, at least she knows how to speak; being president means being a little strong down there, in the nuts, if you know what I mean.

That he has cojones, that’s what I mean!

Now, take the dictionary!

I don’t want Ms. Lasconi to return to her pots because I don’t want to offend her. But let him return without regrets to his sheep on the lands of Cîmpulung (Romania), where on every hedge is written MADE IN PNRR, and let him know how he drew European funds accessed for another 40 years!

Read the label of the medicated paraffin cover to cover and prepare rigorously for a significant spill! Mr. Mandolin was on the penultimate bench to prepare for the dress for the big exam in the fall.

Well, what discussion can Lasconi have, for example, with Mackerel, pardon Macron, during a visit to Cîmpulung, pardon Cotroceni?

On purpose, I said Mackerel that I heard that he was a bit rotten from the head, and this, from the head – I say. But maybe after a tasting of must and a blank stare, after a lengthy troubleshooting of childhood remembering, after a pile of macrame and a sordid sigh – Macron will recite L’ete indiene, and Lasconi will add a so-and-so further on.

Because we’ve had ditsy girls before, and we’ve been a Turkish paschal and don’t want to be anymore!

This article is a pamphlet.

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So, if it makes you feel sick to your stomach, it might be because it’s about someone you respect, admire, or support. So, I promise it won’t happen again… until next time.