Fat fuck and dumbfuck both go quiet In the top story of the weekend, the Cantaloupe Dope is cutting back on his daily news conferences after his unhinged suggestion last week that internal application of bleach, Lysol and UV radiation might be a quick cure for the coronavirus.
For those of us who found Trump’s daily slobberings entertaining, it is a small but poignant loss. It might be a bigger loss for Trump, though, because it might be the moment when his base of yammering yick-a-doos finally realize he is actually dumber than they are. Most guys are familiar with bleach. They have used it a couple times, if not to do laundry, then at least to clean out a tackle box or get dried blood off a souvenir bayonet. Lysol may be a mystery to many of us, but at least we know there’s some in the house and it is not a good substitute for Pam. We also know that it is impossible to bathe our lungs in sunlight without a dramatic and painful intervention, the kind best accomplished with an axe or a machete.
Also, our moms, whether they were highly educated model mothers or eight-grade dropouts raising us in meth labs, were always careful to tell our childish selves, “DON’T DRINK ANYTHING THAT’S UNDER THE KITCHEN SINK!” This reveals something about Trump’s life—he is so spoiled he has never, ever been near a kitchen sink.
It looks like Trump’s boo Kim Jong-Un may have made his last statement, too, on account of abandoning the respiration habit, although as of this writing, the most reliable media outlet to put that rumor into print was TMZ. Kim was said to have succumbed while under surgery to implant a stent in a clogged artery. It takes a lot of whiskey, cigarettes and loaded nachos to need a stent when you’re only thirty-six, but if you have to have one, you want a real surgeon to go in there. Unfortunately for the world’s most baby-faced mass murderer, one couldn’t be located, or at least one couldn’t be located that was willing to take a chance on being anti-aircraft gunned to death if Kim wasn’t happy with the outcome, so the procedure was apparently carried out by two guys working off a YouTube video.
It will fall to Kim’s baby sis to carry on the family tradition of building death camps and primitive nuclear weapons.
Finally, Miami went seven weeks without a murder, the first time this has happened since 1957. I wouldn’t encourage that town to start patting itself on the back yet, though. Many people who find themselves murdered are first noticed missing when they don’t show up for work, so with nobody showing up for their jobs, that happy statistic may turn out to just be a blip. It’s possible several quarantined couples may have had a final, explosive spat, and the survivor has fed the loser’s remains to the gator at the end of the dock, which crime won’t be noticed until the Waffle House re-opens light a cook or waitress.
And no school means no school shootings. It’s a silver lining kind of Monday, right?
For those of us who found Trump’s daily slobberings entertaining, it is a small but poignant loss. It might be a bigger loss for Trump, though, because it might be the moment when his base of yammering yick-a-doos finally realize he is actually dumber than they are. Most guys are familiar with bleach. They have used it a couple times, if not to do laundry, then at least to clean out a tackle box or get dried blood off a souvenir bayonet. Lysol may be a mystery to many of us, but at least we know there’s some in the house and it is not a good substitute for Pam. We also know that it is impossible to bathe our lungs in sunlight without a dramatic and painful intervention, the kind best accomplished with an axe or a machete.
Also, our moms, whether they were highly educated model mothers or eight-grade dropouts raising us in meth labs, were always careful to tell our childish selves, “DON’T DRINK ANYTHING THAT’S UNDER THE KITCHEN SINK!” This reveals something about Trump’s life—he is so spoiled he has never, ever been near a kitchen sink.
It looks like Trump’s boo Kim Jong-Un may have made his last statement, too, on account of abandoning the respiration habit, although as of this writing, the most reliable media outlet to put that rumor into print was TMZ. Kim was said to have succumbed while under surgery to implant a stent in a clogged artery. It takes a lot of whiskey, cigarettes and loaded nachos to need a stent when you’re only thirty-six, but if you have to have one, you want a real surgeon to go in there. Unfortunately for the world’s most baby-faced mass murderer, one couldn’t be located, or at least one couldn’t be located that was willing to take a chance on being anti-aircraft gunned to death if Kim wasn’t happy with the outcome, so the procedure was apparently carried out by two guys working off a YouTube video.
It will fall to Kim’s baby sis to carry on the family tradition of building death camps and primitive nuclear weapons.
Finally, Miami went seven weeks without a murder, the first time this has happened since 1957. I wouldn’t encourage that town to start patting itself on the back yet, though. Many people who find themselves murdered are first noticed missing when they don’t show up for work, so with nobody showing up for their jobs, that happy statistic may turn out to just be a blip. It’s possible several quarantined couples may have had a final, explosive spat, and the survivor has fed the loser’s remains to the gator at the end of the dock, which crime won’t be noticed until the Waffle House re-opens light a cook or waitress.
And no school means no school shootings. It’s a silver lining kind of Monday, right?
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