"You're playing a very dangerous game of chicken with the head fucking hen, 'cause if I don't win the White House, O'Brien is gonna sink your stupid boats and you're gonna look like a hair-sprayed asshole in your 1980s mother-of-the-bride dress. And if I do win, I will have my administration come to your shitty little district and shake it to death like a Guatemalan nanny. And then I'm gonna have the IRS crawl so far up your husband's colon, he's gonna wish the only thing they find is more cancer."

"Good God."

"So can I count on your vote? Or do I need to shove a box of White House M&Ms up your stretched-out six-baby vag?"

Why aren't you watching, Veep, exactly?