At long last, we have rid ourselves of President Donald J. Trump.
He, along with his Cro-Magnon offspring and lecherous enablers, are in their final days. And they can fuck themselves repeatedly on the way out.
Lest you confuse this for bluster, know that I mean this from the heart — fuck Donald J. Trump.
He has been an albatross around our necks; a sea creature leviathan-cum-land dweller. A human clerical error whose arterial walls are covered in pink sludge from a D.C. McDonalds. Whose moral failings are exceeded only by his shortcomings as a leader.
The Washington Post reported back in August that they’d tallied 22,247 false claims from his lips over the course of 1,316 days. They professed to have a backlog ahead of September because the conduit connecting his colon to his rotting mouth had become too packed with sewage to keep up the tally.
An irony, but hardly a major one, for a campaign that ran on the rallying cry of ‘Promises made. Promises kept.’
All of which is akin to a legal defense of Jeffrey Dahmer on the premise that he was a ‘misunderstood gay man.’
He is the poor man’s strong man. A bubbling tub of congealed store brand gravy. The human infomercial for unmitigated mold spread finding rest in a slinking, orange stump of shit.
His supporters couldn’t see it, can’t see it, and never will see it. Call it a workplace casualty of having another man’s stubby fingers lodged like a cluster of tumors into their prefrontal cortex.
Here’s an incomplete list of his factual, verifiable shortcomings:
- Promised to eliminate the national debt in eight years; grew it 36 percent in less than four.
- Income inequality hit its highest disparity since the federal government began tracking it 50 years ago.
- Promised 4 percent GDP growth with his tax cuts, got 2.9 percent (at best), only matching his predecessor.
- (Feels like a good time to remind everyone that the stock market isn’t the economy. The market, at its best, barely outpaced the gains of his predecessor. And 45% of Americans aren’t even invested).
- Promised $4,000 in wage increases for the average American family, which instead remained flat when adjusted for inflation.
- Allowed the murder of a U.S. journalist to go unpunished in Saudi Arabia.
- Didn’t drain the swamp, and instead saw his associates tally 34 indictments, guilty pleas or convictions for ties to Russian election interference.
- Mocked the disabled.
- Accused by 26 different women of sexual assault.
- Paid a porn actress $130,000 for sex.
- Deregulated the banking industry that ran amok and caused the 2008 economic collapse.
- 238,000 dead from COVID-19.
His servile degenerate followers should have no issues with the above, since they’re all entirely verifiable facts. And facts, which, despite their babbling proclamations to the contrary, still exist.
And yet, none of this even scratches the surface of his subjective-but-unquestioned failures of principle. He is not a Republican and never was. Ted Cruz’s wife — and her husband’s continued cuck-filled loyalty — is but one speck of a casualty on the miles-long CVS receipt of wrongdoings that are surely bookended by paid-off rape charges.
Trump’s only unequivocal victory is in the propped-up flag industry, which will be decimated in his wake as neck-beard fanboys tuck away their tattered fabric in the kind of disappointment and neglect that Tiffany carries daily.
These same followers fashion themselves as boot-strapped self-starters and would-be-millionaires. Instead, they are left in his wake.
Sad, misinformed and incapable of seeing the middle class to which they cling is but a hollow relic. The proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, which the fat tangerine has run off with for himself and his hostage of a wife.
He has held the mantle for the self-proclaimed party of family values for one term too long. Yet, it should be this nation’s prayer that the shambles of a Republican party that is left might find sanity and decency in 40 to 50 more Mitt Romneys.
May Trump’s four-year spectacle of ineptitude and fragility be remembered only in measures of his shortcomings.
And on the inevitable day where he deteriorates into the form of a rotting corpse, may we enjoy one last laugh as his painted flesh slimes away like melted crayons into a rotting box that cradles his soupy bones as he is ushered into the unrelenting flames of hell.