It somehow became a practice around the NRA to gift the executive vice president and boss, bloody Wayne Lapierre, with silk suits and rides in yachts. Wayne is apparently a modest fellow--he could have made himself NRA president, after all, or maybe sergeant at arms. Instead he seemed contented with perks.
He now finds himself in court accused of weekends in a cramped little 100 foot yacht, when important people have yachts three times that long. On television Wayne looks embarrassed at having his cheapness made so public.
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