You have entered Anderson Cooper 360 Chatroom AlaskanPitbull has entered the chatroom xxHopeChangeAndMoreHopexx has entered the chatroom CooptheScoop has entered the chatroom CooptheScoop: Everyone here? AlaskanPitbull: Ya… And I might add Cooper; your body-clinging T-shirt is looking especially casual today. CooptheScoop: I know! I deal with the news while being comfortable. IExploitOthersInsecuritiesForALiving has entered the chatroom xxHopeChangeAndMoreHopexx: Isn’t some kind of debate meant to be going on? I’d like to get this over with so I can go back to courageously defying everything. Also, anyone know who this other guy is? IExploitOthersInsecuritiesForALiving: Who, me? Pretend I’m not even here. But in the meantime, I’m going to steal your ear and make you think you’re eating it. AlaskanPitbull: Let me guess. Prime…President of Portugal? IExploitOthersInsecuritiesForALiving: Nope. I am but a humble hypnotist from the school of hard knocks, using my trade to make my way in this cruel, unsavory world. Also, Anderson Cooper – you now think you’re drowning. CooptheScoop has drowned in his mind, which, according to Lawrence Fishburne, means he has drowned in the real world. IExploitOthersInsecuritiesForALiving: Alright, now that he’s out of the way, I’ve got a few questions. But first, Ms. Palin – you now believe you are in an amateur commercial for a generic car dealership featuring some precocious kids with mediocre acting skills. Mr. Obama, you believe there is a bowl of scalding chowder on your head. Chowder that is heavy on the carrots. AlaskanPitbull is facing the camera and speaking too loudly xxHopeChangeAndMoreHopexx has overcome his chowder trials against the odds AlaskanPitbull: So, you’re not going to ask about foreign policy experience? My unwed teenage daughter’s growing belly? xxHopeChangeAndMoreHopexx: And you’re not going to ask about race so I can make it a non-issue and be applauded for it? My subtle poisoning of the Clinton family puppy? IExploitOthersInsecuritiesForALiving: No. My question is much simpler: why do you now think the air is becoming chocolate, suffocating you in a rich, palatable mousse? Also, you both are now legless iguanas baking in the sun. Feels nasty, doesn’t it?
