Trump climbing a steep slope In this age of endless Trump, when every headline every day screams of the profound effect he is having on us and the world, over here we occasionally crave quieter eras, when we could editorialize on more mundane nonsense.
In those innocent days, spotting a story tagged with a headline as fascinating as Mountain Goats Being Airlifted Out of National Park Because They Crave Human Pee, which can be found here, would be riffed on by this column as intrinsically funny by itself. Apparently, every time you using the toilet, you are flushing away nutrients vital and delicious to mountain goats, so if you go hiking in the wilds of Washington’s Olympic National Park and find it necessary to relieve yourself on the ground, a mountain goat will sooner or later come along and lick up that pee, digging as deep into the ground as it needs to consume every nourishing drop.
This may not prevent the goat from goring you to death afterwards, which thankless act one pissed-off mountain goat has performed on at least one hiker, resulting in the National Park Service starting a project to airlift all of the goats to another, more remote forest in the Cascades, where fewer humans hike to pee and get gored. In better times, reading a story about the consumption of human urine would not remind you of the President of the United States, but these are not those times, so it falls to this column to point out the eerie parallels between goat and Trump behavior.
Nothing in the goat article indicates what kind of human pee the goats prefer. Whether it be the sweet pure piss of a devoted vegan lass, or the rancid discharge of an alcoholic prep school shitbag who thinks he belongs on the Supreme Court, the goats will thirstily consume it. Not so the President; it is said he prefers prostitute piss exclusively. So that’s one important difference between him and a mountain goat.
Goats gore people in the pristine wilderness. Trump gores people on Twitter. A dominant male goat gathers a herd of females and keeps them to himself, randomly forcing himself on them at will. Again, there is a crucial difference here between the goat and Trump—the male goat never feels it is necessary to pay $130,000 through a crooked intermediary to a girl goat he has humped.
A male mountain goat can weigh up to 309 pounds and the smart money is on Trump weighing about the same. A mountain goat can climb an incline of up to 60 degrees, which is far steeper than the average golf course, so superior to Trump in that respect. It can also withstand a wind of more than 99 miles an hour, which Trump probably cannot. Neither could about 3,000 Puerto Ricans, so let’s not be too harsh on Trump for that.
Finally, the goats get airlifted and so does Trump. Whether it be to one of his resorts, the UN to give other world leaders lulz, or one of his rallies where he can make fun of rape victims, his trip always starts with Marine One gunning its rotors and lifting 300 pounds of bloated Presidential hiney into the sky.
Of course, Trump’s helicopter doesn’t drop him into the high Cascades to fend for himself through a brutal high-altitude winter, searching vainly for urine on which to subside.
Which wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just throwing it out there.
In those innocent days, spotting a story tagged with a headline as fascinating as Mountain Goats Being Airlifted Out of National Park Because They Crave Human Pee, which can be found here, would be riffed on by this column as intrinsically funny by itself. Apparently, every time you using the toilet, you are flushing away nutrients vital and delicious to mountain goats, so if you go hiking in the wilds of Washington’s Olympic National Park and find it necessary to relieve yourself on the ground, a mountain goat will sooner or later come along and lick up that pee, digging as deep into the ground as it needs to consume every nourishing drop.
This may not prevent the goat from goring you to death afterwards, which thankless act one pissed-off mountain goat has performed on at least one hiker, resulting in the National Park Service starting a project to airlift all of the goats to another, more remote forest in the Cascades, where fewer humans hike to pee and get gored. In better times, reading a story about the consumption of human urine would not remind you of the President of the United States, but these are not those times, so it falls to this column to point out the eerie parallels between goat and Trump behavior.
Nothing in the goat article indicates what kind of human pee the goats prefer. Whether it be the sweet pure piss of a devoted vegan lass, or the rancid discharge of an alcoholic prep school shitbag who thinks he belongs on the Supreme Court, the goats will thirstily consume it. Not so the President; it is said he prefers prostitute piss exclusively. So that’s one important difference between him and a mountain goat.
Goats gore people in the pristine wilderness. Trump gores people on Twitter. A dominant male goat gathers a herd of females and keeps them to himself, randomly forcing himself on them at will. Again, there is a crucial difference here between the goat and Trump—the male goat never feels it is necessary to pay $130,000 through a crooked intermediary to a girl goat he has humped.
A male mountain goat can weigh up to 309 pounds and the smart money is on Trump weighing about the same. A mountain goat can climb an incline of up to 60 degrees, which is far steeper than the average golf course, so superior to Trump in that respect. It can also withstand a wind of more than 99 miles an hour, which Trump probably cannot. Neither could about 3,000 Puerto Ricans, so let’s not be too harsh on Trump for that.
Finally, the goats get airlifted and so does Trump. Whether it be to one of his resorts, the UN to give other world leaders lulz, or one of his rallies where he can make fun of rape victims, his trip always starts with Marine One gunning its rotors and lifting 300 pounds of bloated Presidential hiney into the sky.
Of course, Trump’s helicopter doesn’t drop him into the high Cascades to fend for himself through a brutal high-altitude winter, searching vainly for urine on which to subside.
Which wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just throwing it out there.
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