So there’s this election coming up and while in my real life I am anything but A-political when I am here, sitting in my awesome blogging throne* from which I do all my totally awesome blogging I tend to keep politics as an aside although I am relatively certain that most people can guess which way I lean. It’s not that I don’t have strong opinions or even that I have nothing to say on the political matters that are important to me, it’s just that I prefer that if people are going to hate me, it be for good reasons like I got drunk and pooped on your front porch and then videotaped your stepping in it the next morning when you left the house….hypothetically, or because I called you cuntrag in front of your small child because you cut in line at the zoo, or I ate the last of the Cocoa Krispies and left the empty box in the cupboard so that you thought there were actually Cocoa Krispies left so you totally got your hopes up for some delicious Cocoa Krispies but when you felt how light the box was your hopes, while diminished, were not completely crushed until you upended the box over your bowl and were met with only a feeble sprinkling of Cocoa Krispy dust. Frankly I cannot think of better reason to hate someone than that last one. Except maybe if they were a psychotic, racist, sexist, violent, misogynistic, bloated, homophobic, orange, narcissistic, delusion, mono-maniacal, smarmy, creepy, lying, repugnant, xenophobic, greasy, vomit-swelling, little fuckstain of a shriveled up oompa loompa, that might also be a good reason to hate someone. But, alas, hate only breeds more hate, just like anything else that powerful…like love, for instance. So let’s maybe not talk about why we “hate” that oompa loompa and talk about why he’s such an incapable, dangerous, and downright idiotic choice for a leader.
Of course I’m talking about Donald Trump and just like John Oliver said, I am kind of loathe to even write out his name because I am positive he has a tiny orgasm every time it is written…..or spoken….or read, not even aloud, just in your head, but he still knows because he once made a wish with a genie from a magic lamp and now he can sense it whenever bile rises in someone’s throat after simply hearing his name or seeing his picture.
It seems like an oddly impractical thing to wish for if you ask me, but let’s be honest people, we are not dealing with a Rhodes Scholar here. Sometimes, after the Donald feels the need to reassure the American public that there are “no problems” with his dick (I find this highly doubtful coming from a man who repeatedly and in earnest talked about wanting to bang his own daughter), when I am done throwing up, I try to figure out if this is actually happening, like for real, actually happening. It’s kind of like watching Trapped in the Closet, R. Kelly’s much beloved/maligned “hip hopera” that is still puzzling stoned people everywhere as to whether or not its creator was entirely serious in the making of what the writer, producer, director and actor of the “films” would call his masterwork.
Have I mentioned that in R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet he is legit trapped in a literal closet?
There is simply no way to watch Trapped in the Closet and not think to yourself, “NO FUCKING WAY THEY ARE TAKING THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY!” And that sentiment is pretty much echoed whenever I hear about the next, ridiculous, offensive, stupid and/or (usually and) appalling thing the Trump campaign has done. I can just imagine the Donald sitting around the frat house with his other white, be-polo-ed frat buddies (only because that’s where I assume he lives), high-fiving one another, drinking their way through case after case of unsold Trump brand vodka (which was absolutely a thing….just not a thing anyone wanted), and trying to think of the next absurd thing that Trump is going to say or do that will inevitably get him more headlines, more recognition and possibly, more votes.
“Dude! You know what you should totally do tomorrow, bro? You should totally talk about murdering innocent women and children. Betcha no one will call you out on it!” *shouts of bro-ly agreement* *high fives all around*
“BRO! Then you should totally talk about how big your dick is at the debates! That would totally fuckin’ crush it!” *smashes empty beer can into forehead, swigs Trump brand vodka, casually rapes coed while high-fiving his bros, posts it all the Twitter*
“Fuck yeah! You should threaten to walk out onto 5th Avenue in downtown NYC and shoot someone! Fuckin’ EPIC, Bro!” *Tweets about how he’s gonna retweet the tweet that Trump will tweet after he is forced to go on Twitter and defend his saying that he could shoot someone and no one would care…oddly enough, no one cares*
The Trump candidacy has been the most collectively head-scratching theater that the American public has ever seen. I mean this guy has Andy Kaufman beat by a country mile…unless he’s actually serious….OH GOD! You don’t think he’s actually serious about this, do you? I mean, if he is actually serious about his campaign, which, of course, is a possibility, he might be some kind of publicity savant and he genuinely and truly thinks that the hardest part of being President of the United States is getting elected….while simultaneously proving himself wrong at every turn! GENIUS!
But in reality I don’t think Trump has given much, if any, thought to what would happen after getting elected. I honestly don’t think he thinks things out much at all; what he’s going to say, how he’s going to “run a business (into the ground?)”, how or where his money is spent, what bullshit thing/building/failed casino/piece of steak he puts his name on, or to whom he might be liable if elected. I think the most dangerous thing about Trump is that Trump only cares about Trump. He is not interested in the welfare of the American People at all. The only reason he is even running for President is because it was the biggest popularity contest he could get himself into and he NEEDS validation, adulation and attention like normal, non-psychotic, non-narcissistic people need air or water. And let me tell you one thing, the leaders that are only in it for themselves and to further their personal agendas, their own need for power, worship, veneration, awe, devotion, glorification, praise, flattery, blandishments…those are the men (and I say “men” because I fucking mean MEN) who are truly dangerous because at the end of the day they are only beholden to their own emptiness at NOT having those things. And like a toddler, he will resort to any means necessary to get them. Unlike a toddler instead of throwing a tantrum, the leader of the free world can just decide to send a nuclear missile strike to….*throws dart at globe, comes up with country I cannot pronounce, picks France instead because I totally bet the Donald hates France for no reason at all*….FRANCE!
Trump may or may not be a psychopath (my money is on the former) but he is definitely dangerous. He is definitely not a leader. I wouldn’t let Trump lead a goddamn girl scout troop…mostly because he would try to sleep with all the girls and when they refused he would call them “cows” or “lesbians” and threaten to sue them and then he would rename all the cookies “Trump-mints” and “Trump-moas” and “Trumpalongs” or “Shortbread Tre-ump-foils” and then he would convince the girls that are just commodities and that if they wanted to achieve anything in life they’d better do it in a 24 karat gold-flake Trump brand string bikini while stripping in Atlantic City because that is the only way those stupid cows are going to find a rich husband, but it may already be too late for Trisha because she’s going to be 14 in a month an a half and the only thing you little bitches really have to offer a “successful” man is your youth and beauty. And don’t you forget it….MAKE ‘MERICA GREAT AGAIN!
Also, globe darts is the best sport I have ever just invented! XOXO
*”blogging throne” may or may not refer to any chair, bed, toilet, yurt, park bench (where I was totally NOT sleeping), carpet, patch of mostly dry grass, blankie, tuffet or really any flat surface available for sitting within reach of the writer.
P.S. I decided that when I run for president (because that is what wildly under-qualified lunatics are doing these days) my campaign slogan will be “Make America Pie Again” because who doesn’t love pie?!!!! BOOM! That’s at least 26 delegates right there! Also, I am suddenly feeling the need to make “Biblio Diva for President” T-shirts and bumperstickers. It’s gonna be a long night. XOXO yet again!