Not pictured: Al Franken, supporting women. (Technically, putting your hand on a woman’s ass is supporting them.)
OR
“So, uh, Senator. Where’s your partner?”
“Bernie?”
“Yeah. If anyone should be a Deadhead, you’d think it would be him.”
“You’re right, but he’s not. I’ve asked him. He says your music is counter-revolutionary and aspirational.”
“Ah. What, uh, what kind of stuff does he prefer?”
“Work songs. Poetry about the People.”
“Y’know, the more I hear about that guy, the less I like him.”
“Most folks have that reaction.”
OR
Mickey, look this way.
…
No, over here.
…
The same way the other two are looking, Mickey.
…
Oh, fuck it. Just take the picture.
those three looked like they finished a big lunch, possibly Monte Cristos preceded by Crab Louie, or perhaps Soft Shell Crab sangriches (bacon extra mayo). Now they have Gas. Get back to the HO-tel, strip naked for a nap, watch some Branded on TVLand. The Senator is off to the Quorum Club, didn’t invite Those Guys.