Disagree entirely. Harris is scary, and may be a robot. Frank is soft, like the Stay-Puff Marshmellow Man. Harris splits Frank down the middle early in the fight, then climbs inside him to stay warm.
That's assuming she doesn't get drunk before the fight.
Honky, please. Harris will implode like her own Senate campaign. Distracted by a dangling false eyelash, she'll fail to see Frank's two-fisted bitch-slap coming. Flame on! Then Frank can call his houseboy to clean up the mess.
Isn't a two-fisted bitch-slap a contradiction in terms?
People, please. Do not underestimate the awesome power of Katherine Harris' pudding trolley.
It's hardly my fault if you can't think outside the box, Tia.
Labs, I know you had a good time with my mom, but that line's not going to work with me.
3: You're crazy. The masculine thrust of Harris's jaw will disorient Frank. As he fritters away time and focus trying to decide whether or not he's attracted to Harris, and what that might mean, Harris's thrusting talons will obviate any future need to consider such issues.
No, Tim, Frank's seen Mommy Dearest a few thousand times, and he's perfectly capable of defending himself against those wire hangers. Even though Harris's face is constructed from cheap imitation leather, he'll have no trouble dimpling her chad. Besides, if he gets into trouble, Congressman Obey has his back, and there's nothing more BDSM than that.
Labs is right. Frank will stand there, eyebrow raised, while Harris pogos around him talking a lot of crap but not taking a swipe lest she break a nail until finally the ref calls it for Frank.
You're both horribly, horribly wrong. Frank is a portly gay man with a reputation for having a terrible personality. Harris is the very Face of Evil. Maybe in your utopian fantasies Good always triumphs. But this the real world of fake catfights.