Sam Nunberg, the man who said he would stand up to Robert Mueller but didn’t, was found unconscious earlier today in his hotel room in Alexandria. After being transported to Jolie Michele Memorial, Nunberg was pronounced dead.
Memorial’a Chief Resident, Dr. Tim Hoskins, says Nunberg was dead long before he arrived:
“The man swallowed enough fabric softener to make a porcupine warm and fluffy. There was no saving him. We have this ruled a suicide. It was…a horrible way to go.”
The medical examiner said Hoskins likely sat wide awake and aware that his organs were being poisoned. His only consolation would have been when death finally came and the suffering stopped. At that point, Hoskins would have had “a minute or two of peace on this planet” before he moved onto the next.
The Trump administration says it’s still having a hard time verifying if Nunberg was actually ever in a meeting, and Robert Mueller, without a written or recorded statement or dying declaration, says any record of Nunberg will have to be stricken.
As for Nunberg himself, his quasi-superiority of impersonable indifferences aside, he remained effectively adverse and maliciously malcontented enough with indignity and justice for all. Without it, his integrity would relinquish nefariously along with constraint.
Critics argue that when Nunberg was writing his suicide note that in order to get to 200 words he simply inserted gibberish that people who would have no idea that impersonable isn’t a word would skim right over. In the end, he left his collection of Star Wars (2001) figurines to his mother and his authentic (replica) of Voltron, the one with the lions, not the cars, to his dog Bob.
Skimdillywig fourteen at nigh on the eastern front, my friends. Skimdillywig fourteen.