What Did That Dumb Orange Motherfucker Say Now? (Part 902)

In the official transcripts of the White House, they’re not even trying to hide what a gibbering twit President Donald Trump is. And, really, why bother? We all know that he’s an inarticulate tamarin, a calico dimwit, and for most of us, that means he’s just a cretinous ogre who should be in a field, devouring wayward goats, and not beshitting the Oval Office. For others, his moronic drivel is a feature, not a flaw; his third-grade vocabulary makes him like them. So, fuck it, just put it out there. Judgment has been rendered.

Still, this is pretty fucking dumb. Talking about the Uzebek immigrant who legally came to the United States a decade ago (during a Republican administration, it should be noted, and post-9/11), Trump gurgled, “I am today starting the process of terminating the diversary lottery program. I’m going to ask Congress to immediately initiate work to get rid of this program. Diversary and diversity lottery. Diversity lottery. Sounds nice. It’s not nice. It’s not good. It hasn’t been good.” You already know this, but “diversary” ain’t a word. And he said it twice. Because he’s a fucking moron. And everything that followed was fucking moronic.

Then, swear to fucking god, he said the phrase “get rid of chain migration” three times in less than a minute, and you know he couldn’t explain the concept if you held a Big Mac in front of him for a reward.

Of course, no Trump remarks are truly Trumpian until he bends over, spreads his gargantuan ass cheeks with his minuscule hands, and sprays shit all over anything that he can smear with his greasy fast food turds. “We’re being stopped by Democrats because they’re obstructionists. And, honestly, they don’t want to do what’s right for our country,” he said, shit pluming out towards Congress. Hell, he had started the day by blaming Sen. Chuck Schumer for the terrorist attack in Schumer’s own state of New York (for a 1990 law that contained the “diversary lottery” and had been signed by George Bush, Sr., by all accounts a Republican), so why not just pass the buck to all Democrats.

And, obviously, he talked about how people are laughing at the United States, constantly flashing back to the boarding school locker room, no doubt, when bullies would guffaw at the proportional divergence between his massive buttocks and his witheringly tiny cock. “We need quick justice and we need strong justice — much quicker and much stronger than we have right now. Because what we have right now is a joke and it’s a laughingstock,” Trump said, shitting at the courts, implying that our justice system is worthless, as I guess presidents do now.

Then, swear to fucking god, he made the Cabinet wait for a meeting to start while he fucking rambled like a baby who just discovered how fun it is to gurgle, reviewing everything going on from his “very special” tax cuts to his nominations for judges, for which “the Wall Street Journal gave us great reviews on that, really fantastic reviews,” as if this is just a fucking show and he’s a drunk diva living and dying by the light of the critics.

His desperation for approval, especially from the New York City press, was on display when he called up a reporter for the Timesto report that he’s not angry at anyone, that he’s totally chill about the Russia investigation indictments, that his poll numbers are really good, according to the Republican National Committee, and that he works a lot. Goddamn, just stand at the Lincoln Memorial with a megaphone and scream, “Love me! Love me!” It’s the same fucking thing.

It explains why he starts his day with Fox and (People You’d Rather Murder Than Have As) Friends. The nonstop praise for him from Steve Doocy and Brian Kilmeade and whatever poor blonde they force to sit between those two, who must smell like Scope and sweat, is like rolling onto your back in the morning with an erection and a sweet lover reaches over to give you a hand job.

“God, why doesn’t everyone love me as much as the Deuce?” he must think. And then he spends the rest of the day trying to convince himself that everyone does.

That tiny space, between self-preserving delusion and self-serving flattery, is where the rest of us exist for him.

Editor’s Note: This essay originally appeared on November 1, 2017, on The Rude Pundit, a website featuring commentary by Lee Papa.  It was reproduced here with the consent of Mr. Papa.

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