From the Diary of Joe Biden, Day 2

I had a terrible, terrible dream last night. A bunch of disorderly thugs were at it again, burning down our beautiful cities. I was crying out like a prophet in the wilderness, “Joe Biden is President now. The time for violence is over. Unity. Unity. Unity is our goal.”

They heard me and put down their bats and their Trump signs. They locked arms and they started to sing. I joined in. I used to be a tenor in my high school choir. The choir director told me often, if I didn’t go into politics I should sing with Pavarotti and Domingo.

But my vision was clear. I had to do my part and lead this country not as a leader, but as a servant. A servant of the people. Elected by the people to be their leader.

For all my begging and pleading the crowd picked up their bats and attacked the only people who’ve ever cared about this country; Democrats(1)https://www.theepochtimes.com/antifa-in-seattle-and-portland-smash-property-oppose-biden-police-we-are-ungovernable_3665544.html. It was then I understood how an organized group(2)Biden Says Antifa Is ‘An Idea, Not An Organization’ during Presidential Debate (yahoo.com) of mindless thugs like Antifa can turn on this country without reason, or principal.

I’ve been saying it all along, “Mr. Trump, you need to identify terrorism within our own nation and stop spending all your time causing trouble in the middle east.” But he didn’t listen. He never listens. And here I am, left to clean up his mess.

And then I woke up in sweat stained sheets. I called out to my dear sweet sister wife(3)Joe Biden just confused his wife for his sister and it was very, very awkward (msn.com), Jill, in the other room and she comforted me.

Cliff wears a lot of hats, but when he's not stretching himself too thin he likes to write, remodel his house, build things out of wood, camp, kayak, help people move, rearrange his office, read, and keep his wife's cats off the couch.
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