I can’t keep spoon-feeding you the obvious, but here we go. You’re the classic libtard backseat driver, clutching pearls and whining, “We don’t know what’s there for minerals!” No kidding, Sherlock. I figured we sent a squad to play rock collector between drone strikes to nail down the estimates, you absolute genius. And wow, how gracious of you to give Trump his entire term to fix everything (three months, lol). Truly, your benevolence knows no bounds. Then you hit me with your crystal-ball prediction that Trump won’t broker peace. Shocker, I thought you’d be his biggest cheerleader, dumbass.
I’m dying at the libtard fairy tale where Trump’s apparently the puppet master deciding Putin’s breakfast menu. In your smooth-brain world, it’s all on Trump, but Biden? Oh, he just funneled enough weapons and cash to keep the body count climbing without a single inch gained on the front line. Years to act, and he didn’t even bother picking up the phone to Putin, or maybe his wife was too busy running the show. Whoever was president, they sure weren’t trying. That’s all I’ve got for you, parrot. You’re just another squawking drone, indistinguishable from the rest of the flock.