I can't follow you.
It's not you, it's me. I can't vote in your district. It's not even that you and I belong to different parties. You seem like a sane Republican, and corruption is corruption. My vote could have been won if I was in your district.
But why are you following me, Timothy Burns? Clearly, you are a successful businessman while I am hanging on to my twixt years with every ounce of my body. I am merely a man who makes puns combining Blackstreet Lyrics with former Basketball players. I like unintentional comedy, so if it was my following of Chuck Grassley, I apologize. Like the inevitable segment on Monday Night Raw in which a wrestler representing the Los Angeles Lakers will beat down a wrestler representing the Denver Nuggets. (Likely Mark Jindrak representing Chris Andersen. It is sad that I know that.)
My mentality does not make you money. I am a man sidetracked by trifling things. I see something shiny or bouncing and…
It is what it is. I am sure that you will find plenty who love you on Twitter. It is just that I cannot follow you.
I am too busy engaging an Alabaman on the debate of who is in the bottom end of the Los Angeles Lakers Top 5 greatest of all time.
Good luck, Mister Burns.