"In the New Hampshire Presidential Primary."
"Who was to your left?"
"A military spy who did not know how to vote."
"Who was to your right?"
"Hillary Clinton's spy."
You may step down.
"Excuse me, some thug attempted to smash my face in. He's been dispatched to the afterlife."
"OBJECTION! Hughes has punched-out a thug! In the courtroom, no less!"
"Overruled. Hughes, why did this this thug try to harm you?"
"Maybe the part about my residence in New Hampshire. The address was renumbered."
"From what to what?"
"Twenty eight to thirty."
"Who informed you of this?"
"An official at the Polling Place in Concord on Green Street, Verizon, and my postal carrier."
"Now you may step down...again."
Liars! Scoundrels! Oh, the unwashed! This isn't Peter O'Toole out back of the mafia senior center! Oh my God, my own "fund of knowledge" surprises me sometimes, as even under 25th Century torture beams/rays/bullshit, I am the Hughes, and I'm right again! Drumroll, please.....it's Becket, with Mr. O'Toole as Henry II. Rock and roll hootchie coo! Girls? Where are you, girls? Must be Ralph's cart.
Routers? I've routed my plan for a new Executive Branch via the sturdy, possibly a California lesbian USPS mailtruck to http://www.fec.gov/ I'm late again, but I...probably would...uh...well, you know how it is...be late to my own inauguration. Got a comment? Who the f*** are you?