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July 31, 2017
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Gather ‘round, kids. I want to tell you a story. It’s the story of The Scaramucci. I’ve seen him myself; seen him with my own two eyes. They say he’s still out there roaming, looking for helpless leakers, just like you…

Gather ‘round, kids. I want to tell you a story. It’s the story of The Scaramucci. I’ve seen him myself; seen him with my own two eyes. They say he’s still out there roaming, looking for helpless leakers, just like you…

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They say when the Long Island wind turns cold and your press secretary runs off into the woods without warning, The Scaramucci’s nearby…

They say on a night like tonight, if you listen carefully, you can still hear it: the expletive-filled rants of The Scaramucci…

They say if someone keeps tagging Reince Priebus but you don’t know who, it’s The Scaramucci…

They say if your skin suddenly tingles from the warmth of an unnatural pocket of hot air, The Scaramucci’s come to interview…

They say if you chant his name three times into the mirror, The Scaramucci will haunt your entire administration for a week and a half…

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They say when it’s late at night in the White House and everyone else has left, you might catch something in the corner of your eye screaming about Steve Bannon trying to blow himself. But then, in just a matter of days, he’s gone…

They say when the moon is full and you put the cable news on mute, you can still hear The Scaramucci referring to himself as “The Mooch…”

They say if you publish his disclosure forms, The Scaramucci will kill your closest leaker…

They say he’s still out there, roaming the halls of the West Wing, still looking for the president he loves…

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