After hugging all those in the congregation, Trump was asked by the disabled black preacher to say a few words. “God is more important than me,” Trump said, as the congregants gasped.
Just kidding. As the covid death toll flirted with the hundred grand mark, The Cantaloupe Dope was relaxing at home with a fresh cheeseburger served to him by a masked valet and re-tweeting a crack about vice-presidential hopeful Stacey Abrams being fat.
Now, the Stace is a majestic presence, but no more so than the Caucasian-in-Chief, as noted by none other than the High Grandma of the House, Nancy Pelosi, who called him “morbidly obese” the other day. CNN primly noted that at 6’3” and 243, Trump qualifies as obese, but not morbidly so, but CNN, out of all media outlets, should know fake news when it repeats it. Trump in real life appears to be about 6 even and 290, making him the fattest President since Taft. Him cracking about other people’s physical appearance is like a plump, pimply jerk who hasn’t gotten laid since the last season of the Sopranos sitting at a strip bar and sneering at a naked entertainer whose bod would give Gal Gadot’s a run for her money, “I don’t like her eyebrows.”
As part of his harangue about opening up church services, Trump said that America needs “more prayer, not less.” No—what we need are MORE FUCKING TESTS! The ringleader of the American circus also bad-mouthed liquor stores and abortion clinics as being less essential than gathering in large, infectious groups and exhaling viruses.
Here in California, liquor stores sell way more than liquor. They also sell beer, wine, chips, snack cakes, sandwiches, candy, lottery tickets and condoms. That by no means exhausts the list, but every single one of those items sounds like a quarantine essential to me. And if you need an abortion, it’s not like you can wait for the vaccine to be developed before you get one.
What is not essential is packing into a large structure with hundreds of your fellow deluded goobers and pleading with God for an end to the plague, when God could ignore your prayers just as effectively if you prayed at home. Just stay there. Your pastor can get a real job. And when the thousands of dedicated medical professionals who are slaving away right now, while you sniffle over being deprived of the freedom to spray your saliva all over the other faithful, finally come up with a cure or a vaccine for the virus, you’ll get to go back to church and thank the Lord for it.
But Trump will want credit too, so make sure you save some for him, despite the fact that if and when the pandemic ceases, he will be the only person who has done less than God to save us from it.