Good. Good. I say recount, stop the count, count it again. OK. Then triple count it.

It's over fucko. You lost. You fuckin' lost. The fuckin' ghost of John McCain bit you right in your fat fuckin' ass in Arizona. Good! Ya fuckin' asshole. 

Your big fuckin' mouth came back to fuck you. OK. The fuckin'... You don't wanna back the Governor of Michigan when there's a plot to kidnap her. Good! Ya fuck.

Pack your fuckin' shit. 

And you're gonna lose Pennsylvania. Huh?! The ghost of Darryl fuckin' Dawkins, the Broad Street bullies. You're fuckin' done in Philadelphia. You're done.

Pack your fuckin' shit. Ya got a bunch of fuckin' flunkies around you. Get your stupid sons, your dumb fuckin' daughter, your fuckin' mute fuckin' blowjob Jared fuckin' Kushner fuckin' son-in-law.

Get the fuckin' tape. Get the boxes and pack your fuckin' shit. Pack it now. Go the fuck away.

Four years of this fuckin' nonsense, ya fuckin' blowjob. Get the fuckin' trucks.

It's time asshole. We can count. We can recount. Let's do it three fuckin' times. We'll triple check it.

It's over asshole. You fuckin' lost, motherfucker. You dumb fuck, you.