I just finished working on the text – “Remove the crazy mother F now.” Today’s White House press conference should have been a come-and-get-him white-coat convention. Trump is mad, insane. Gone, man, gone. Don’t let the man get to midday Tuesday. Seriously. Lock him in a broom closet with a bucket of ribs. Do anything to get the man out of sight and out of mind. Keep him away from the microphone and the podium. These are dangerous times, and even bucktooth Bobby Joe Peckerhead is in danger. MAGA is risking all lives in the service of this babbling freak.
Let’s review some of my fav moments. “I could be the president of Venezuela. That’s what they tell me. Maybe when I’m done here.” Look, I’m all for it. A jungle accident. Snake bite, boil the bastard in crude. Just take him now.
“I killed Osama Bin Laden. I did. Read my book.” First up, the only book he’s ever read was halfway through a Rickey Rich comic book. I’m all in on the Trump presidential library. One large diaper changing area the size of a runway.
“I ended eight wars, they gave me the Nobel Peace Prize, or she did. She knew I deserved it. Nice woman.” Crazy fucker.
I truly think he’s up all night, pumped and ready to get in front of the press, never confronting or answering a question because his mind is on automatic stupid.
Tomorrow in my mind is a dangerous time. With a deadline set to massacre civilians in Iran, I’m afraid this ass will go Rambo gung-ho, and no one will intervene. The Ratpukes will do what they do and cower in a corner. Democrats will say,” I told you so.” And the rest of us will be chewing our nails.
He’s done. We needed a crisp amendment.
We have a crisis.