With just nine days left to drag his dick over the sneeze bar that protects the lunch buffet of our democracy, what will the Caucasian-in-Chief do next? Rumors are he will address the nation today, and he may well call on his followers to rise up again, but since most of them have already left DC, what would that rising up consist of? Painting their faces again and running wild through the two rooms of their local Post Office?
No, their next opportunity for poorly organized yet deadly mobbing would be on Joe Biden’s Inauguration day, and that will be tough. The money here is that security is going to be a little more buff for that than it was last week.
But he’ll do something, or several somethings, and one of them is going to be going on a pardoning spree like the country has never seen. He’s going to give big, wet, slobbering pardons to his kids and henchmen, pardons that will mean that Rudy Giuliani can sleep at night without worrying about anything happening to him more disturbing than his hair dye rubbing off on his pillow, and America's publishers will never have to bid on "My Life as a Prison Bitch," by J. Kushner.
And he’ll pardon himself. He’ll sign that one and maybe even write “Gone golfing, losers. Ha Ha Ha!” underneath his signature.
Whom he’s not going to pardon is the riotous goobers who stormed the Capitol in his name last Wednesday. Reportedly, he’s disturbed that they were “low class.” Self-awareness not being Trump’s strong suit, he’s never realized that he’s the ultimate example of white-trash-with-cash, the bigmouth bully at the country club that everybody else who belongs there secretly hates. Trump only pardons people who wear expensive suits, like Roger Stone and Paul Manafort. His mercy is not going to extend to those who can’t afford an interior designer to tell them whether to put their gun rack over the sofa or the fireplace.
He’s not likely to start a nuclear war with China or Russia, the only two countries that could give us a decent match-up in that form of martial arts, because Ivanka has trademarks in China and he’s not going be able to sell US secrets to Putin in return for debt forgiveness if atomic conflagration has made cutting real estate deals less important than finding a place to hide underground.
He’s not going to invade Iran. Invasions take planning, and nine days isn’t enough time for the Pentagon to gear up for one. “How about along about the middle of March?” the Joint Chiefs will reply if he asks. “Or never? Never works for us.”
He’s going to go to the Alamo and probably sob to his base about all he’s sacrificed to give them what they wanted, which apparently was a moment of sunshine for neo-Nazis, Three Percenters, Oath Keepers, Proud Boys, Q-Anonsters, and others who dwell in the pleasure domes of unreality. He’ll probably compare himself to Davy Crockett and the other defenders of the fort in the way he’s given his life for America, although Davy Crockett never got to bill the Secret Service for staying at his hotels and did, in fact, literally give his life for his cause, and Trump is just going to publicly lie a little more and then have another cheeseburger.
To which Trump would no doubt reply, “So what? Davy would be dead by now anyway.”
No, their next opportunity for poorly organized yet deadly mobbing would be on Joe Biden’s Inauguration day, and that will be tough. The money here is that security is going to be a little more buff for that than it was last week.
But he’ll do something, or several somethings, and one of them is going to be going on a pardoning spree like the country has never seen. He’s going to give big, wet, slobbering pardons to his kids and henchmen, pardons that will mean that Rudy Giuliani can sleep at night without worrying about anything happening to him more disturbing than his hair dye rubbing off on his pillow, and America's publishers will never have to bid on "My Life as a Prison Bitch," by J. Kushner.
And he’ll pardon himself. He’ll sign that one and maybe even write “Gone golfing, losers. Ha Ha Ha!” underneath his signature.
Whom he’s not going to pardon is the riotous goobers who stormed the Capitol in his name last Wednesday. Reportedly, he’s disturbed that they were “low class.” Self-awareness not being Trump’s strong suit, he’s never realized that he’s the ultimate example of white-trash-with-cash, the bigmouth bully at the country club that everybody else who belongs there secretly hates. Trump only pardons people who wear expensive suits, like Roger Stone and Paul Manafort. His mercy is not going to extend to those who can’t afford an interior designer to tell them whether to put their gun rack over the sofa or the fireplace.
He’s not likely to start a nuclear war with China or Russia, the only two countries that could give us a decent match-up in that form of martial arts, because Ivanka has trademarks in China and he’s not going be able to sell US secrets to Putin in return for debt forgiveness if atomic conflagration has made cutting real estate deals less important than finding a place to hide underground.
He’s not going to invade Iran. Invasions take planning, and nine days isn’t enough time for the Pentagon to gear up for one. “How about along about the middle of March?” the Joint Chiefs will reply if he asks. “Or never? Never works for us.”
He’s going to go to the Alamo and probably sob to his base about all he’s sacrificed to give them what they wanted, which apparently was a moment of sunshine for neo-Nazis, Three Percenters, Oath Keepers, Proud Boys, Q-Anonsters, and others who dwell in the pleasure domes of unreality. He’ll probably compare himself to Davy Crockett and the other defenders of the fort in the way he’s given his life for America, although Davy Crockett never got to bill the Secret Service for staying at his hotels and did, in fact, literally give his life for his cause, and Trump is just going to publicly lie a little more and then have another cheeseburger.
To which Trump would no doubt reply, “So what? Davy would be dead by now anyway.”
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