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Real Locker Room talk with Donald Trump.....


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No one talks like Hillary outside locker rooms:


about Hillary” by Edward Klein, p. 5

a Secret Service officer. From the book “The Truth

(otherwise known as “Bill Clinton”) Hillary shouting at

(5) “Where’s the miserable cock sucker?”

Aldridge, p.139

Access” by Clinton ’s FBI Agent-in-Charge, Gary

her Secret Service detail. From the book “Unlimited

Just fucking do as I say, Okay!!?” Hillary screaming at

from me! Don’t come within ten yards of me, or else!

(4) “Stay the fuck back, stay the fuck back away

her luggage because he wanted to keep his hands free in case

Hillary to a Secret Service Agent who was reluctant to carry

your fucking ass over here and grab those bags!”

(3) “If you want to remain on this detail, get

p.90

the book “America Evita” by Christopher Anderson,

one of them greeted her with “Good Morning.” From

shut.” Hillary to her State Trooper bodyguards after

too! Just do your Goddamn job and keep your mouth

shit-kickers every day! I’m not going to talk to you,

(2) “Fuck off! It’s enough I have to see you

House” by Ronald Kessler, p. 244

Labor Day 1991. From the book “Inside the White

Hillary to staff at the Arkansas Governor’s mansion on

damn fucking flag up every morning at fucking sunrise”.

 

“Crossfire

Trooper who was driving her to an event. From the book

(6) “You fucking idiot” Hillary to a State Trooper

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(8) “Come on Bill, put your dick up! You

can’t fuck her here!!” Hillary to Gov. Bill Clinton

when she spots him talking with an attractive female. From

the book “Inside the White House” by Ronald

Kessler, p. 243

I wouldn't let her kiss my dog with that mouth.

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The only thing men would say to donald in the locker room is / HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA omg it's so fuckin tiny ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

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The only thing men would say to donald in the locker room is / HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA omg it's so fuckin tiny ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

dunce.jpg

 

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

 

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Xd4OSjFr_reasonably_small.jpgSean Doolittle - Verified account ‏@whatwouldDOOdo

As an athlete, I've been in locker rooms my entire adult life and uh, that's not locker room talk.

8:46 PM - 9 Oct 2016

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yvAroEVs_reasonably_small.jpgChris Conley - Verified account ‏@_flight17_

Just for reference. I work in a locker room (every day)... that is not locker room talk. Just so you know...

6:27 PM - 9 Oct 2016

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Venethrax1_reasonably_small.jpgChris Kluwe [ATTACH=full]93565[/ATTACH]Verified account ‏@ChrisWarcraft

Hahaha, "locker room talk." Like that fucking inflatable clown dummy would ever make it in a legit locker room.

6:11 PM - 9 Oct 2016

414 RETWEETS1,087 LIKES

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e601ea47d41f659ae9ea6a9c35366e03_reasonaJohn Amaechi OBE - Verified account ‏@JohnAmaechi

Politics isn't sport. The White House isn't a locker room. Respecting women (et al.) seems a desperately low bar to fail in 2016.

3:18 AM - 10 Oct 2016 from West Midlands, England

396 RETWEETS718 LIKES

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S-5bWvxH_reasonably_small.jpegBrett Anderson - Verified account ‏@BrettAnderson35

What kind of fucked up locker rooms has Donald Trump been in...

6:18 PM - 9 Oct 2016

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wK_2SDIy_reasonably_small.jpegSage Rosenfels - Verified account ‏@SageRosenfels18

I was a 5 sport athlete in high school. 5 years of college football. 12 years in the NFL. Guys don't talk like that in locker rooms. #Trump

8:57 PM - 7 Oct 2016

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hqo6sufk_reasonably_small.jpgCJ McCollum - Verified account ‏@CJMcCollum

I haven't heard that one in any locker rooms

6:28 PM - 9 Oct 2016

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PcNjufyt_reasonably_small.jpgDonté Stallworth - Verified account ‏@DonteStallworth

"Locker room talk" LOL

6:11 PM - 9 Oct 2016

49 RETWEETS149 LIKES

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Sv7byrAd_reasonably_small.jpgKendall Marshall - Verified account ‏@KButter5

PSA: sexual advances without consent is NOT locker room talk.

6:44 PM - 9 Oct 2016

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YbpaWlVV_reasonably_small.jpgJacob Tamme - Verified account ‏@JacobTamme

Please stop saying "locker room talk"

6:12 PM - 9 Oct 2016

1,250 RETWEETS3,153 LIKES

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Even more....

 

Dear Donald Trump: I played in the NFL. Heres what we really talk about in the locker room.

VOX

by Chris Kluwe

Oct 10, 2016

 

Dear Donald Trump,

 

Last Friday, audio leaked of you making incredibly demeaning comments about women and bragging about sexual assault. When asked to justify your statements, you claimed that this was "locker room talk," and it's just how guys speak about women.

 

You're wrong, and only the type of wrong an over-tanned ham hock like yourself can accomplish, plummeting past the morass of gross incivility into the abyss of depraved sociopathy.

 

How do I know this? Simple. I was in an NFL locker room for eight years, the very definition of the macho, alpha male environment you're so feebly trying to evoke to protect yourself, and not once did anyone approach your breathtaking depths of arrogant imbecility. Oh, sure, we had some dumb guys, and some guys I wouldn't want to hang out with on any sort of regular basis, but we never had anyone say anything as foul and demeaning as you did on that tape, and, hell, I played a couple years with a guy who later turned out to be a serial rapist. Even he never talked like that.

 

Now, Donald, I'm sure you're wondering just what it is we talk about in a professional locker room, if we don't spend all our time regarding 50 percent of the population as mobile fuck receptacles eagerly awaiting our tiny-handed grasp on their love lapels. I shall educate you!

 

We talk about our families. We talk about our significant others, our children, and our parents. We talk about our fears that if a Hitler wannabe who can't even string together a coherent statement on domestic policy becomes president, what that might mean for those of us who are married to a member of a minority community, or are a member of a minority community, or have children going to schools where hopefully nobody screams racial epithets at them or tells them to go back to [insert foreign country they couldn't identify on a map here].

 

We talk about travel. We talk about the cities we've seen, the stadiums we've played in, what vacations we might take in the offseason. We talk about what country might make a good safe haven if a Russian-backed presidential candidate whose foreign policy agenda can best be described as "gross negligence mixed with a spicy dash of treason" were to have control of our nation's nuclear arsenal, and whether his stubby little baby fingers are strong enough to push in the launch codes on sturdy military-grade hardware.

 

We talk about money. We talk about what other guys at our position are making, what our next contract might look like, and how much paying taxes each year sucks, since we're in the highest tax bracket and play in multiple states, requiring multiple filings. We talk about how all of us pay taxes, every year, and wonder what a presidential candidate might have to hide if he so stubbornly refuses to release his returns, what possible foreign debts might be lurking in that finance closet he so desperately holds shut with every ounce of his contemptible mental faculties.

 

We talk about women (and sex!). We talk about wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, fans, and groupies. Most guys respect women, some guys don't, but never have I heard anyone use your particularly disgusting brand of sadism that refers to women as objects and not people. Even the most debauched club-hopping party animal talks about women more civilly than you. We don't let each other talk like that about women, because it lessens our humanity, and even though we're modern-day gladiators, we still hold ourselves accountable to the idea of basic human decency.

 

We talk about jokes. Clean jokes, dirty jokes, jokes that are in between. Hell, I made a joke about Penn State that got me in trouble years later, because someone thought I was attacking the victims instead of the institution that allowed such depravity to happen. You know what I did? I apologized. I said I was sorry. I didn't apologize with "if your feelings were hurt by it"; I didn't try to deflect it by attacking someone else, or their spouse; I didn't lie to an entire nation on live TV and say, "Nope, that never happened." I simply said, "I'm sorry, I made a mistake, I'm accountable, I'll do better next time."

 

See, that's another big thing we talk about in the locker room. Accountability. In a professional sports environment, all of us are accountable to each other. We're a team. If one of us messes up on the field, it affects everyone. Just like if a president makes a bad decision, it affects everyone. And do you know, Donald, the only way the team wins games? The only way we win is if, in the locker room, we're willing to accept that accountability, address our mistakes, and work as hard as we possibly can to make sure those mistakes don't happen again.

 

We don't double down on a shitty play simply because a small portion of the fan base got excited by it. We don't try to carve the team apart from the inside to appease a certain position group. We don't blame our mistakes on something someone else did, because if we do any of those things, we lose, something you've become intimately familiar with on a personal, financial, and political level, and I'm not having too many difficulties reviewing how that happened to you on the game film.

 

So let me conclude with some advice for you, Donald. The next time you want to claim that something is "locker room talk," take a moment to recognize the fact that were you in an actual locker room, you would be universally reviled as a cancerous, egotistical train wreck of a disgrace that no team could possibly find the time to employ and, honestly, would never even have on their draft board to begin with.

 

I've been in locker rooms, Donald, and you're the type of narcissistic, pants-soiling fecal eruption that just doesn't belong. Even football players are smart enough to know that.

 

Sincerely,

 

Chris Kluwe

 

Former NFL player, proud father of two daughters Im afraid you would eagerly deport and/or molest, American citizen

 

Chris Kluwe played eight years in the NFL for the Minnesota Vikings, is the author of the book Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies and co-author of the sci-fi book Prime: A Genesis Series Event, and can be found on twitter [url=https://twitter.com/ChrisWarcraft]@ChrisWarcraft, where he's usually causing some sort of ruckus. He endorses Hillary Clinton for this year's presidential race, because, despite her faults, she at least can be trusted not to fire off nukes at 3 am when a Twitter egg insults her.

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The deplorable pariah Trump is finally receiving the worldwide tsunami of shame and disdain that he deserves. He's earned it...

 

Donald Trump: The ugliest American and international pariah...

 

His global financial interests will decline and fail across the board. Maybe he can get a job at McDONALD'S flipping burgers...

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Tried to do WHAT, exactly?

You do realize, don't you, that he is talking about what women ALLOW him to do, right?

Nope! Nobody "realizes" that because it isn't true.

 

T'Rump confessed on tape to forcing himself on women without their consent. This has now been corroborated by a number of women whom he has assaulted....here's one....

 

Physically Attacked by Donald Trump a PEOPLE Writers Own Harrowing Story

People Magazine

BY NATASHA STOYNOFF

OCTOBER 12, 2016

In December 2005, PEOPLE writer Natasha Stoynoff went to Mar-a-Lago to interview Donald and Melania Trump. What she says happened next left her badly shaken. Reached for comment, a spokeswoman for Trump said, This never happened. There is no merit or veracity to this fabricated story. What follows is Stoynoff's account.

 

"Just for the record," Anderson Cooper asked Donald Trump, during the presidential debate last Sunday, "are you saying that you did not actually kiss women without (their) consent?"

 

"I have not," Trump insisted.

 

I remember it differently.

 

In the early 2000s, I was assigned the Trump beat for PEOPLE magazine. For years I reported on all things Donald.

 

I tracked his hit show The Apprentice, attended his wedding to Melania Knauss and roamed the halls of his lavish Trump Tower abode. Melania was kind and sweet during our many chats, and Donald was as bombastic and entertaining as you would expect. We had a very friendly, professional relationship.

 

Then, in December 2005, around the time Trump had his now infamous conversation with Billy Bush, I traveled to Mar-a-Lago to interview the couple for a first-wedding-anniversary feature story.

 

Our photo team shot the Trumps on the lush grounds of their Florida estate, and I interviewed them about how happy their first year of marriage had been. When we took a break for the then-very-pregnant Melania to go upstairs and change wardrobe for more photos, Donald wanted to show me around the mansion. There was one tremendous room in particular, he said, that I just had to see.

 

"I just start kissing them," he said to Bush. "Its like a magnet. Just kiss. I dont even wait. And when youre a star, they let you do it. You can do anything."

 

We walked into that room alone, and Trump shut the door behind us. I turned around, and within seconds he was pushing me against the wall and forcing his tongue down my throat.

 

Now, I'm a tall, strapping girl who grew up wrestling two giant brothers. I even once sparred with Mike Tyson. It takes a lot to push me. But Trump is much bigger -- a looming figure -- and he was fast, taking me by surprise and throwing me off balance. I was stunned. And I was grateful when Trump's longtime butler burst into the room a minute later, as I tried to unpin myself.

 

The butler informed us that Melania would be down momentarily, and it was time to resume the interview.

 

I was still in shock and remained speechless as we both followed him to an outdoor patio overlooking the grounds. In those few minutes alone with Trump, my self-esteem crashed to zero. How could the actions of one man make me feel so utterly violated? I'd been interviewing A-list celebrities for over 20 years, but what he'd done was a first. Did he think I'd be flattered?

 

I tried to act normal. I had a job to do, and I was determined to do it. I sat in a chair that faced Trump, who waited for his wife on a loveseat. The butler left us, and I fumbled with my tape recorder. Trump smiled and leaned forward.

 

"You know were going to have an affair, don't you?" he declared, in the same confident tone he uses when he says he's going to make America great again. "Have you ever been to Peter Lugers for steaks? I'll take you. We're going to have an affair, I'm telling you." He also referenced the infamous cover of the New York Post during his affair with Marla Maples.

 

"You remember," he said. "Best Sex I Ever Had. "

 

Melania walked in just then, serene and glowing. Donald instantly reverted back to doting husband mode, as if nothing had happened, and we continued our interview about their wedded bliss. I nodded at his hollow words and smiled at his jokes, but I was nauseated. It didnt seem to register to him in the slightest that what hed done might have hurt or offended me, or his wife.

 

An hour later, I was back at my hotel. My shock began to wear off and was replaced by anger. I kept thinking, 'Why didnt I slug him? Why couldn't I say anything?'

 

The next morning, anger became fear. Earlier in my trip, I had tried to arrange a session at Mar-a-Lago's spa for my chronic neck problem -- the spa was part of a private resort separate from the Trump residence -- but they were booked up. Trump had gotten wind of that before the interview and called himself, asking the top massage therapist if he would come in extra early to see me, as a favor to him.

 

I'd been up all night worrying -- 'had I done something to encourage his behavior?' But I decided to keep the appointment. I was running late and rushed to the spa with my luggage in tow. I found my designated therapist in a panic.

 

"I'm so, so sorry," I apologized, "Can we do 30 minutes and I'll pay you for the whole hour?"

 

"Never mind that. Mr. Trump was here waiting for you!"

 

"What? Where?"

 

"Here. In the massage room. Waiting for you. He waited 15 minutes, then had to leave for a meeting."

 

"But why was he here?" I asked. "Is he coming back?"

 

The therapist shrugged. I lay on the massage table, but my eyes were on the doorknob the entire time. 'He's going to show up and this guys going to let him in with me half-naked on a table.' I cut the session short, got dressed and left for the airport.

 

Back in my Manhattan office the next day, I went to a colleague and told her everything.

 

"We need to go to the managing editor," she said, "And we should kill this story, it's a lie. Tell me what you want to do."

 

But, like many women, I was ashamed and blamed myself for his transgression. I minimized it ("It's not like he raped me"); I doubted my recollection and my reaction. I was afraid that a famous, powerful, wealthy man could and would discredit and destroy me, especially if I got his coveted PEOPLE feature killed.

 

"I just want to forget it ever happened," I insisted. The happy anniversary story hit newsstands a week later and Donald left me a voicemail at work, thanking me.

 

"I think you're terrific," he said. "The article was great and you're great."

 

'Yeah', I thought. 'I'm great because I kept my mouth shut.'

 

I asked to be taken off the Trump beat, and I never interviewed him again. A few months later, I saw Trump at the memorial service of a mutual friend, designer Oleg Cassini. We were both giving eulogies, but I avoided him. That winter, I actually bumped into Melania on Fifth Avenue, in front of Trump Tower as she walked into the building, carrying baby Barron.

 

"Natasha, why don't we see you anymore?" she asked, giving me a hug.

 

I was quiet and smiled, telling her I'd missed her, and I squeezed little Barrons foot. I couldn't discern what she knew. Did she really not guess why I hadn't been around?

 

Except for a few close friends and family, I didn't talk about the incident. In time, I chalked it up to one of the hazards of a roller coaster ride of celebrity journalism: I'd danced barefoot in Cannes with John Travolta, sang with Paul McCartney, talked about Bogie with Bacall, quoted Shakespeare with Brando and Prince Andrew yelled at me until I cried. Oh, and Donald Trump forced himself on me. I tried to make myself believe it was no big deal.

 

Only, it was.

 

Now he's running for president of our country. The other day, I listened to him talk about how he treats women on the Access Hollywood tape. I felt a strong mix of emotions, but shock wasnt one of them.

 

I was relieved. I finally understood for sure that I was not to blame for his inappropriate behavior. I had not been singled out. As he explained to Billy Bush, it was his usual modus operandi with women. I felt deep regret for not speaking out at the time. What if he had done worse to other female reporters at the magazine since then because I hadn't warned them?

 

And lastly, I felt violated and muzzled all over again.

 

During the presidential debate, Donald Trump lied about kissing women without their consent. I should know. His actions made me feel bad for a very long time.

 

They still do.

 

Four years after the Trump incident, I left the magazine to write screenplays and books -- a few are New York Times bestsellers.

 

I'm not sure what locker room talk consists of these days. I only know that I wasn't in a locker room when he pushed me against a wall. I was in his home, as a professional, and his beautiful pregnant wife was just upstairs.

 

Talk is talk. But it wasn't just talk in my case, it was very much action.

 

And, just for the record, Mr. Trump, I did not consent.

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Yow, somebody has some serious issues.

Yup! And that somebody is you, JustStupid!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I mean, who spends their entire adult life in locker rooms?

Professional athletes obviously, you retarded nitwit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another dumbass who doesn't even know what trump said before he spouts off

Another dumbass in deep denial about what T'Rump actually said.
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Yup! And that somebody is you, JustStupid!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Professional athletes obviously, you retarded nitwit.

I would not spend my "entire life" in a locker-room.

Although there may be agoraphobic athletes. I best research that.

Wouldn't it be necessary to actually leave the locker room to play?

Hey, Pogo, you posted it, not me.

Sean Doolittle - Verified account ‏@whatwouldDOOdo

As an athlete, I've been in locker rooms my entire adult life and uh, that's not locker room talk.

8:46 PM - 9 Oct 2016

6,052 RETWEETS14.6K LIKES

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I would not spend my "entire life" in a locker-room.

Although there may be agoraphobic athletes. I best research that.

"Entire life" in this case probably means he spent a great deal of time in the locker under a professional capacity.

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Thank you for providing the quotes

 

 

Then why don't you tell us exactly what he said, dumbass?

 

Let's get real Chuck and read the shit the CONS here write.

 

How about a no lie zone on LF? It would also quickly become a no alt-rigthies zone because they get busted for lying all the time and we both know it.

 

I can get it that you are a conservative Chuck but it must be quite embarrassing for you to read the crap that the alt-right CONS here write while claiming they are conservatives. The fact is Chuck, real conservativism can stand on its own. It doesn't need trolls and liars.

 

Get some real conservatives here so that there can be an intelligent debate of the issues.

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