[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]  Mr. Star Spangled MAGA [@4thOfJuly365](/creator/twitter/4thOfJuly365) on x 60.6K followers Created: 2025-07-17 18:03:06 UTC Dear Harry Sisson, Oh, Harry. If "legend in their own mind" was a person, you would be it. Where do I even start with you, you preening, pansy-ass poster boy for the DNC? You’re out there strutting like you’ve got a man card, but let’s be real... Your masculinity’s got less substance than the fuzz in my ass crack, and trust me, there’s more hair there than on that baby-smooth face of yours. You’re so feminine, I bet you squat to pee while humming Taylor Swift’s Spotify playlist. And those cheeks bro... Those cheeks look like they’ve got a permanent red blush tattooed on ‘em, like you’re perpetually embarrassed to exist. And honestly, you should be. You’re out there caping for the Democratic machine like it’s your full-time job. Oh wait! It is! You’re not just a soy boy; you’re the fcking soy emperor reciting whatever script the DNC faxed you this week. Original thoughts? What the fck are they right? You’ve been puking DNC talking points like a wind-up toy with a Biden bumper sticker slapped on its ass. Speaking of your idol, Hunter Biden... Harry, could you pick a creepier role model? Your boy makes Charlie Sheen look like Adam Sandler. What’s next, a tramp stamp tattoo of Hunter’s laptop? You’re such a lil’ creep, it’s like you were programmed in a lab to be the perfect shill. No wonder most people don’t even know who the hell you are. Your entire existence is a footnote in someone else’s agenda. You’re not even a B-lister in the political influencer game; you’re like the intern who fetches coffee for the intern. And let’s address the elephant in the room. You weren’t even born in the USA, yet here you are, yapping about American politics like you’ve got a PhD in Founding Fathers. Bro, you’ve got less claim to the red, white, and blue than a knockoff handbag sold in NYC. Your whole vibe screams “nerd who got picked last in gym class and decided to make it everyone’s problem.” It makes me think you spent your DNC allowance on a Funko Pop collection. And don’t get me started on your social media presence. It's s just a sad parade of recycled garbage with a side of “please look at me." You’re so deep in the DNC’s pocket, I bet you’ve got lint from their laundry stuck in your teeth. Every time you open your mouth, it’s like a press release from a liberal think tank got a TikTok account. You’re the kid who shows up to a knife fight with a spork. So do us all a favor Harold. Take your blush-tattooed cheeks, your Hunter Biden tatoo, and your DNC script, and fck off to whatever corner of the internet will still tolerate you. We’ll be over here, in the real world, laughing our asses off at the thought of you trying to grow a beard. In freedom, Mr. Star-Spangled MAGA P.S. Get a haircut. You look like a rejected extra from Boy Meets World. XXXXX engagements  **Related Topics** [ass](/topic/ass) [maga](/topic/maga) [Post Link](https://x.com/4thOfJuly365/status/1945907126041301295)
[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]
Mr. Star Spangled MAGA @4thOfJuly365 on x 60.6K followers
Created: 2025-07-17 18:03:06 UTC
Dear Harry Sisson,
Oh, Harry.
If "legend in their own mind" was a person, you would be it.
Where do I even start with you, you preening, pansy-ass poster boy for the DNC?
You’re out there strutting like you’ve got a man card, but let’s be real...
Your masculinity’s got less substance than the fuzz in my ass crack, and trust me, there’s more hair there than on that baby-smooth face of yours.
You’re so feminine, I bet you squat to pee while humming Taylor Swift’s Spotify playlist.
And those cheeks bro...
Those cheeks look like they’ve got a permanent red blush tattooed on ‘em, like you’re perpetually embarrassed to exist.
And honestly, you should be.
You’re out there caping for the Democratic machine like it’s your full-time job.
Oh wait! It is!
You’re not just a soy boy; you’re the fcking soy emperor reciting whatever script the DNC faxed you this week.
Original thoughts?
What the fck are they right?
You’ve been puking DNC talking points like a wind-up toy with a Biden bumper sticker slapped on its ass.
Speaking of your idol, Hunter Biden...
Harry, could you pick a creepier role model?
Your boy makes Charlie Sheen look like Adam Sandler.
What’s next, a tramp stamp tattoo of Hunter’s laptop?
You’re such a lil’ creep, it’s like you were programmed in a lab to be the perfect shill.
No wonder most people don’t even know who the hell you are.
Your entire existence is a footnote in someone else’s agenda.
You’re not even a B-lister in the political influencer game; you’re like the intern who fetches coffee for the intern.
And let’s address the elephant in the room.
You weren’t even born in the USA, yet here you are, yapping about American politics like you’ve got a PhD in Founding Fathers.
Bro, you’ve got less claim to the red, white, and blue than a knockoff handbag sold in NYC.
Your whole vibe screams “nerd who got picked last in gym class and decided to make it everyone’s problem.”
It makes me think you spent your DNC allowance on a Funko Pop collection.
And don’t get me started on your social media presence.
It's s just a sad parade of recycled garbage with a side of “please look at me."
You’re so deep in the DNC’s pocket, I bet you’ve got lint from their laundry stuck in your teeth.
Every time you open your mouth, it’s like a press release from a liberal think tank got a TikTok account.
You’re the kid who shows up to a knife fight with a spork.
So do us all a favor Harold.
Take your blush-tattooed cheeks, your Hunter Biden tatoo, and your DNC script, and fck off to whatever corner of the internet will still tolerate you.
We’ll be over here, in the real world, laughing our asses off at the thought of you trying to grow a beard.
In freedom, Mr. Star-Spangled MAGA
P.S. Get a haircut. You look like a rejected extra from Boy Meets World.
XXXXX engagements
