Rant and read and rip
In August 2016, Hillary Clinton told a rally of her supporters, “By the way, Mexico’s not paying for his Wall, either. If he ever tries to get it built, the American taxpayer will pay for it. We’ll be stuck with the bill.”
Pretty good call. In fact, spot on. Just think, we came this close to having a competent, qualified, experienced, intelligent, compassionate person in the White House. Instead, we have Golf Thing.
But—her emails!
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I’m guessing the White House Rose Garden is going to have a real good year, because it certainly got fertilized nicely a couple of Fridays ago, when President Capone unleashed that impressive torrent of projectile bullshit. It’s always fun when he shows up for a gig without teleprompters. It’s when he’s at his most terrifyingly bizarre. And as Dum Dum unleashed the disturbing contents of his foul mind, I kept thinking, as the camera showed all the media people in attendance, just how many of those folks were quietly and politely observing this mess and thinking to themselves, “My god. This blowhard jackass is the president?”
In fact, one of these days, I predict one of the pool reporters is gonna lose it. He’ll snap, stand up, and shout, “FUCK YOU, YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT!!! I QUIT!! I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE! YOU’RE A COMPLETE AND TOTAL ASSHOLE!! I’D RATHER WORK IN A CHOCOLATE FACTORY THAN LOOK AT YOUR HIDEOUS, TWO-TONED FACE FOR ONE MORE SECOND!!!!” And then he’ll rip his credential off, fling it in the air and storm out of the shocked room.
Speaking of losing it, I loved it when Golf Thing went into his outlandish sing-song spurt, as he projected the expected path that his Moronic Emergency That Exists Only In His Demented Head will take in the courts (a prediction which looks to be fairly accurate, I’m delighted to report). It just struck me, as he plowed forth with his third-grade schtick, that we’re getting closer and closer to the day when he just flat out snaps, when he blows his cork once and for all and gives us some really good soundbytes! That wasn’t quite it in the Rose Garden, but—we’re gettin’ there.
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About once a month or so, I like to sign off with this, not because it’s news—we all know this by now—but simply because it feels so good to say. “The Republican Party is the true enemy of the American people, and their business partners are the locust oligarchs of Russia who have infected the planet with their mind-boggling greed.” Ah, sweet catharsis!
