Hey Mooch, You Don’t Have Any Idea What I Suck And When I Suck It

Very funny, Mr. Scaramucci. Going off to a New Yorker journalist about your co-workers, myself included. Great way to slide into your new position. Make a joke about me, Steve Bannon, performing fellatio on myself. Hardy har-har. But before reality bites you in your well-coifed ass, let me whisper a little secret into your golden ear: you don’t have the slightest idea what I suck.
I bet you and your grade school friends used to make jokes about who could suck their own dicks. That’s child’s play. I got past that before I even came out of my mother’s womb. Now? Oh I bet you’d shed your silky skin knowing what I could do with my maw.
You think I enter a naughty nocturnal sexscape with myself each evening because I’m vain, because I want fame? I actually envy your ignorance. It must be bliss. Almost as much bliss as when I descend into the bowels of self-pleasure, right there in the West Wing, plumbing the depths of my own depravity, screaming Steve! Steve! You mustn’t go further, Steve. Oh further I’ll fucking go.
You imbecile, Anthony. You speak of things you can never know. Perhaps one day, as you pack up your desk and look forlornly into the sea of reporters you used to call professional adversaries, you’ll look into the back corner of the room, and in the shadows there I will stand, naked but unafraid, engaged in things you thought Satan only whispered about. I will not look away, Anthony. I, Steve Bannon, will finish you off as I finish myself off.
Because I can suck my own dick.
