Any respectable news outfit would admit when they’re wrong. But not American liberal media. They pick up the story they spiked last year without saying oops. Gutless wonders. Gregg Gutfeld has the skinny.
— Jose Galan (@jgalan707) March 17, 2022
Gutfeld:Did you hear the Hunter Biden laptop is real? Oh, and this just in too — so is 50 percent of Kat’s hair. Take a breath. It really is amazing. After the contentious 2020 election and more denial than Charlie Sheen at an AA meeting, The New York Times now admits, “Sure, OK, that laptop full of politically damning stuff about Joe and Hunter Biden is more legit than M.C. Hammer at the ’91 Grammys.” That’s an old reference.
Of course, this is nearly two years after an election that Joe might have lost if all that info hadn’t been buried by the media and tech industries at the behest of their buddies in the Democrat political machine.
So now a massive report on the ongoing federal probe into Hunter’s taxes has confirmed that yes, the infamous laptop indeed exists. In other news, Putin is psychotic, Biden is old, and I collect water from used water beds. It’s delicious. A lot of fiber.
Of course, we all knew this, but if we brought it up, we’d be mocked and banned. But the New York Post was right all along when in October 2020, they reported that Hunter ditched his laptop in a Delaware repair shop back in April 2019, and it contained enough filth to make Pornhub wish they were Christian Mingle.
Besides hardcore porn films starring Hunter himself — my favorite, “Who Is My Daddy?” “Hunter the G——,” and of course, “The Big Guy.” The laptop also contained financial documents in messages between Hunter, his family, and business associates. You know, the kind who still wear beepers.
It all showed how the future president’s son used his pop as political leverage in gaining overseas business dealings involving everyone from China to, yes, even Ukraine.
Talk about collusion. Except no, you couldn’t talk about this collusion. The one where the Big Guy, a.k.a. Joe, a.k.a. the Scratch-and-Sniffer, stood to make millions off Hunter making it rain.
Hunter was like one of the strippers he b—–. He’d show up, wiggle his a–, i.e., his connection to daddy, and the green would flow. He wasn’t just a son, he was a table dancer from the VIP room, climbing all over the laps of foreign powers in exchange for padding his dad’s bank accounts. Makes selling your nose doodles at an art gallery look respectable.
I wonder what Joe has to say about the laptop now. FAUX PRESIDENT BIDEN: Yeah, I remember when a computer used to take up a whole room, and now they got ’em so small, and you can work all day on your lap. And no, I’m not surprised Hunter had one of these things. He always had the latest technology. I remember one time he had this device he could fit right in your pocket, and I said, “Hunter, what is that?” He said, “Dad, I use that to smoke crack cocaine.” And I said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t need to know what you’re doing in your private life. Just make sure I get 10 percent.” But hey, his dad’s right. After all, he bets everybody knows somebody somewhere along the line.