Under Trump, no mas The Mango Miscreant took to his fading social media platform last night to make that headline proclamation, like a Vegas hypnotist trying to cast a spell on America’s female voters, who by and large hate him.
The Great Orange Illusionist’s remarks cratered like an upper stage of a SpaceX failed launch, among much sneering from the chattering libs who think the girls ought to be allowed to do what they please, but a spokesman for Trump reached out to me, to assure me of the Flailing Felon’s sincerity.
“Really?” I said when I took the call. “Shouldn’t your guy have a woman for Trump contact me about this?”
“Naw. Every since Sarah Huckabee said Harris wasn’t fit to be President because she didn’t have a couple of pony-faced offspring like the Arkansas governor has, all the girl spokespeople have had their microphones turned off and have been reassigned to making snacks. I can handle this. Life under Trump will be so good, there will be no such thing as an unwanted baby. For example, you get pregnant by rape. Gas will probably be about a buck-ten a gallon, so you won’t mind driving across the state so your unwanted child can visit her father in prison.”
“I’m thinking that’s a little bit of a stretch for a silver lining.”
“Nonsense. Same thing goes for being a pregnant victim of incest. Think of an America where all the Spanish-speakers have been deported. There’s no point in aborting your child when they can grow up in a USA where there are no bilingual signs at Big Lots. And that creepy uncle that knocked you up can grudgingly cut you a child support check every now and then, because he’ll be working. All the agricultural and meat-packing jobs are going to be wide open.”
“Sounds like a fantasy world you’re living in.”
“Not fantasy. Fantastic. A nation with no crimes committed by anybody except Steve Bannon and practically free groceries. No matter how inconvenient your pregnancy might be, you’ll want to give birth just so your baby can grow up in it. Say you find out you’re preggers with your fourth the day after your worthless husband runs off to Kentucky with that bottle-blonde night clerk at the Quik-Mart. You won’t even think about abortion, even though he cleaned out your bank account and took the credit cards, so you don’t know how you’re going to feed the kids you already have. But you confidently give birth anyway, because you know your unborn child will never have to compete with a transsexual in a sporting event, or even have to go to the bathroom with one.”
“That sounds more than fantastical. It sounds impossible.”
“You just say that because you’re a liberal, nay-saying dweeb. The Boss is going to have a press conference soon, where he’ll repeat that women will not even think about abortion anymore, and, presto! They’ll quit thinking about it.”
“Will he swing a shiny object back and forth and tell them they’re getting sleepy before he says it?”
“Not a bad idea. Sometimes I wish you weren’t a Democrat.”
The Great Orange Illusionist’s remarks cratered like an upper stage of a SpaceX failed launch, among much sneering from the chattering libs who think the girls ought to be allowed to do what they please, but a spokesman for Trump reached out to me, to assure me of the Flailing Felon’s sincerity.
“Really?” I said when I took the call. “Shouldn’t your guy have a woman for Trump contact me about this?”
“Naw. Every since Sarah Huckabee said Harris wasn’t fit to be President because she didn’t have a couple of pony-faced offspring like the Arkansas governor has, all the girl spokespeople have had their microphones turned off and have been reassigned to making snacks. I can handle this. Life under Trump will be so good, there will be no such thing as an unwanted baby. For example, you get pregnant by rape. Gas will probably be about a buck-ten a gallon, so you won’t mind driving across the state so your unwanted child can visit her father in prison.”
“I’m thinking that’s a little bit of a stretch for a silver lining.”
“Nonsense. Same thing goes for being a pregnant victim of incest. Think of an America where all the Spanish-speakers have been deported. There’s no point in aborting your child when they can grow up in a USA where there are no bilingual signs at Big Lots. And that creepy uncle that knocked you up can grudgingly cut you a child support check every now and then, because he’ll be working. All the agricultural and meat-packing jobs are going to be wide open.”
“Sounds like a fantasy world you’re living in.”
“Not fantasy. Fantastic. A nation with no crimes committed by anybody except Steve Bannon and practically free groceries. No matter how inconvenient your pregnancy might be, you’ll want to give birth just so your baby can grow up in it. Say you find out you’re preggers with your fourth the day after your worthless husband runs off to Kentucky with that bottle-blonde night clerk at the Quik-Mart. You won’t even think about abortion, even though he cleaned out your bank account and took the credit cards, so you don’t know how you’re going to feed the kids you already have. But you confidently give birth anyway, because you know your unborn child will never have to compete with a transsexual in a sporting event, or even have to go to the bathroom with one.”
“That sounds more than fantastical. It sounds impossible.”
“You just say that because you’re a liberal, nay-saying dweeb. The Boss is going to have a press conference soon, where he’ll repeat that women will not even think about abortion anymore, and, presto! They’ll quit thinking about it.”
“Will he swing a shiny object back and forth and tell them they’re getting sleepy before he says it?”
“Not a bad idea. Sometimes I wish you weren’t a Democrat.”
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