Bible Thumper Trump Takes the Oaf of Office

About 160 days to the election. Unfortunately, there will only be about 75 people left in the USA, after the trumpvirus pendejodemic has run its course. Seventy of them will be illegal immigrants who will commit voter fraud by voting several thousand times for Biden. Trump will cry foul. The Supreme Court (which will just be Clarence Thomas) will turnover the election and swear in Donald.

Thomas: “Is this your personal Bible, Mr.  President?”

Thomas opens it up and leafs through it.

Thomas: “Interesting, your Bible has a picture of the singer, Madonna, standing on a crescent moon wearing only a bra and panties.”

Trump: “Hey, you seen one Madonna, you’ve seen them all.”

Thomas: “Back here in the church services for the Passion of the Christ, you’ve changed the 12 Stations of the Cross with the 12 Stations of the Double Cross.”

Trump: “Well, I’m a businessman, a very successful one.”

Thomas: “You’ve changed the proverb; It’s easier for a camel to jump through the eye of a needle, than it is for a rich man to get into Heaven to read: It’s almost as much fun to stick a needle a in the eye of a camel as it is to stick a needle in the eye of Nancy Pelosi by lowering corporate tax rates to Zero Percent.”

Trump: “I’m a firm believer in Biblical Economics.”

Thomas holds Trump’s Bible up to his nose and stares at it closely.

Thomas: “Hey, this looks and smells like somebody took a whiz on it.”

Trump: “Okay, let’s use yours.”

Thomas takes out his Bible out from his judicial robes and hands it over to Trump.

Trump: “Clarence, there’s pubic hair all over this Bible.”

Thomas (sheepishly): “Yeah, it was supposed to be a present for Anita Hill. She turned it down.”

Trump: “Another ungrateful black bitch. I’m telling you man.”

Trump grabs the Bible and takes the Oath of Office.

Thomas: Okay, you’re president.”

Trump turns to make his Second Inaugural Address. He stares out at a vast, empty wasteland that once was Washington, DC. One MAGA-cap wearing guy sits alone. All around him tumbleweed rolls in front and behind him. Huge rats, the size of adult Filipinos, stand upright, orange eyes glowing. In the distance, coyotes are fucking like rabbits. Lady Bunny asks her Jackrabbit boyfriend, “Can you do that?”. Buzzards pick at the bones of dead trumpvirus victims.

Trump: “My fellow American.”

MAGA guy takes off his cap and waves it.

Trump: “Yeah, you! Today I am announcing I am lowering the corporate tax rate to -7.9%. And I’m immediately signing a Presidential Directive to put a stop to all this coyote fucking. This canine fornication stops here and now.”

The upright, Filipino adult-sized rats look at each other, and shrug their shoulders with bewildered looks on their faces.

 

 

 

Why There Are No Black Rugby Players

Despite advice to the contrary, Trump could not help himself and finally held a news conference to answer questions about the murder of George Floyd. It proved to be a most fateful day.

Yamiche Alcindor, White House correspondent for the PBS News Hour and the bane of Trump’s news conference existence, questioned the Incredible Hoax President.

Alcindor: “Mr. President, how do you feel about the murder of George Floyd?”

Trump: “Look, the MAGA people love the Blacks. I love the Blacks. No one has done more for the Blacks than me. Have you noticed all the Black lawn jockeys on the White House lawn? No one is writing about that. I have the highest number of Black lawn Jockeys on the White House lawn since Woodrow Wilson.”

Alcindor: “But, specifically, sir, what about the murder of George Floyd by that Minneapolis police officer? Can you speak directly to my question?”

Trump: “MY administration has also strongly condemned minstrels shows. No one hates banjo music more than me. Meanwhile, watermelon sales are at a record high and I consume more fried chicken than the entire NBA.”

Alcindor: “Please, sir, what about George Floyd?”

Trump: “Look, nobody cared when Lloyd George was killed as far as I know, George Floyd was not a member of the House of Lords, neither the Lord Jesus nor Traci Lords. But I love me some Black folks. Yeowzer, yeowzerr, brother. I love black singers, like Smokin’ Joe Robin Hood and, of course, I eat fried chicken by the lovin’ shovelful. I hear the darker the beery, the sweeter the juice. I get tested for Jungle Fever every day, but I am looking very strongly at Halle Berry. Who would have thought Wallace Berry would have produced such a hot hunk of brown sugar.”

Alcindor: “Mr. President, that’s Wallace Beery, not Berry. But again, what about police brutality? What about excessive force by the police in black communities?  What about the murder of George…”?

Trump (interrupts): “Okay, that’s enough. You’re a very rude, horrible, unattractive person, who should be taking Halle Berry Pills.”

Alcindor: “There’s no such thing as Halle Berry Pills. Believe me, if there were, I’d be taking them by the lovin’ spoonful.”

Trump: “I’ve got Jared forming a pharmaceutical commission to look into it.”

Alcindor: “when can we expect a report?”

Trump: “As soon as he gets peace in the Middle East, streamlines the government and finds a cure for the Yellow Slopehead Virus.”

Alcindor: “In other words…never.”

Trump: “You are a failure as a reporter.”

Alcindor: “What about police brutality in the black community?”

Trump: “Okay, missy. You want to talk about brutality. Rugby! Now that is brutal. But rugby players never complain about brutality. You know why?”

Alcindor: “I’m holding my breath.”

Trump: “Because there are no black rugby players. Maybe if that stone-cold loser QB, Colin Kopperhead, took a knee on your neck, you’d understand.”

Trump makes a face and begins to pass gas.

Press Secretary: “OK, EVERBODY, CLEAR THE ROOM!”

Several white House staffers take out cans of Air Freshener and begin to spray the room. A departing reporter is seen by a staffer beginning to strike a match to light his cigarette.

Staffer: “DO NOT LIGHT THAT MATCH!”

FLASH! KA-BOOM!

A huge flaming fireball explodes out of Trump’s ass. A firestorm engulfs the White House and it burns down into a smoldering pile of ashes.

That night on HBO’s “Real Time” with Bill Maher.

Bill Maher: “well, someone finally figured out a way to get Trump out of the White House…. turn him into a charcoal briquette.”

Trump’s favorite Smokin’ Joe robin Hood tune…and mine.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P2a6aLDkkM

 

Thus Spake the Prophet Billy

Our traditional allies no longer trust us. We cozy up to dictators and despots.  We have backed out of every major treaty. We are the laughingstock of the whole world. We have a gulag for immigrants along our southern border. We are in the grasp of a global pandemic that is decimating our population. We are turning a blind eye to climate change. We have 40 million unemployed. We are on the verge of another Great Depression. We have riots breaking out all over the country because of yet another police killing of a black man. We have a low IQ, psychopath, pathological liar, racist, Russian asset president who wears a girdle, lifts, and shits in his pants and has fathered three children (Don Jr., Eric, Ivanka), who appear to have come from the Village of the Damned.

How is all this Making America Great Again?

I am hearing that this election could be like Reagan upsetting incumbent Jimmy Carter in the huge landslide of 1980.

The difference this time though is Jimmy Carter was an honorable man. He accepted defeat graciously, went back to his peanut farm and became the greatest ex-president in US history.

Trump is none of those things and will never become any of those things. He will be screaming “voter fraud” on Trump TV, live and direct from Mar-a-Lago until dysentery finally does him in.

When he loses the election, how this philandering, tax cheat, business failure, con artist, grifter, physically and morally repugnant and odious human being rose to the level of prominence, where his name begins and ends every sentence in our national dialog, will be a tattoo on our collective soul, we will never be able to erase.

Donald Trump is what the Book of Revelations was all about. He is the Devil Incarnate.

As Billy, the Native American in Predator, ominously observes, as he stares up into the trees, realizing he and his comrades are being hunted by an invisible monster:

“We’re all gonna die.”

 

Next Question

Where to you think Trump will come down on this cop who murdered George Floyd?

Black Female Reporter: “Mr. President, the video clearly shows the policeman had his knee on the back of Mr. Floyd’s neck with his full weight behind it. What does that indicate to you?”

Trump: “Why don’t you go back to Africa and ask someone there?”

BFR: “I was born in Mississippi!”

Trump: “Yeah, go back to your shithole country of Mississippi.”

BFR: “This cop obviously murdered Mr. Floyd. Don’t you agree?”

Trump: “No. Lots of people are saying this Floyd person was an avid fisherman and this nice police officer was just helping him find earthworms.”

BFR: “By kneeing his face into the dirt?”

Trump: “well, earthworms don’t grow on trees. You gotta get down, put your face on the ground and look hard.”

BFR: “Mr. Floyd said several times he could not breathe.”

Trump: “Listen, Brown Sugar, you are very rude. Everyone knows you must take a deep breath before you put your face in the ground to look for earthworms. This Floyd guy was just careless.”

BFR: “That’s the most ridiculous…”

Trump: “Enough, enough. Next question.”

The Diaper Don's Post Space X News Conference

News conference after Space X rocket launch gets scrubbed. Trump steps up to the microphones and points to a reporter.

Reporter: “Mr. President, another defeat for your administration. The Space X launch was cancelled due to bad weather. Do you bear any responsibility for the failure?”

Trump: “You’re such a rude black female reporter.”

Reporter: “Sir, it’s me, Jim Acosta, CNN. I am a White male, just like you.”

Trump: “I blame Obamagate for this disaster.”

Reporter: “Why?”

Trump: “It’s been in the papers, Jim. Well, not yours. But you know what I’m talking about and so does everyone else.”

Reporter: “I don’t. Please explain.”

Trump: “When you look at the bad weather, when you look at where it all comes from, lots of people say it comes from Africa. Where is Barack Hussein Obama from?”

Reporter: “Hawaii?”

Trump: “No! Africa. All those bad storms originated in Africa. I wanted to drop atom bombs on those storms and destroy them, but I inherited an empty cupboard from Obama. No bullets. No nuclear bombs. No Doritos. Nothing. It was in all the papers, except yours…”

He points to Jim Acosta.

“…you lying, black bitch.”

Reporter: “Sir, is it true you wear a girdle, a diaper and shit continually in your pants?”

Trump grimaces, grunts, leans over, turns to one side, and violently shakes his right leg.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H03I1Ip4PJQ

Trump: “Ah-h-h-h-! Ivan-ka-ka-ka! Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Trump turns to leave. Pence drapes a huge, plastic shower curtain over Trump and hustles him off stage. Pence returns to the podium.

Pence: “Thank you, Mr. President for your tremendous leadership…ah, fuck, I got it on my shoes! These are my best pair of Florsheim Wing Tips.”

The Last Garden Party Supper

Trump, our Incredible Hoax President, ordered his version of a Papal Bull, a Papal Bullshit Decree, by commanding the churches open up for services this weekend. He is appealing to his evangelical supporters by allowing the suckers to become unwitting martyrs in his psychotic crusade to kill all of us.

We can only imagine how the trumpvirus pendejodemic would have been handled during the time of the New Testament and how our concept of Christianity, and the iconic stories that are the foundation of that belief system would have to be adjusted.

The Last Grub Hub Last Supper Delivery

A Grub Hub guy arrives at the gate to the Garden in Gethsemane.

Grub Hub: “Okay, I got an order for a Jesus of Nazareth, party of thirteen.”

Jesus approaches the Grub Hub guy.

Jesus: “Yes, my son. That’s me.”

Grub Hub: “Hey, buddy, you’re not wearing a mask.”

Jesus wipes his hand across his face and a mask magically appears on his face.

Grub Hub: “Wow! How did you do that?”

Jesus: “You should have been here yesterday when I turned a 12-ounce can of Lucky Lager into a huge keg of beer.”

Grub Hub: “What the fuck is an ounce? Okay, so I got unleavened bread, bitter herbs, and a case of Diet coke.”

Jesus opens the box of food and looks in it.

Jesus: “I specifically ordered chips and salsa for thirteen. Where’s the chips and salsa?”

Grub Hub: “Excuse me. In case you have lost track of time, this is only 34 A.D., so tomatoes, potatoes and corn won’t make it to this side of the world until the 15^th century.”

Jesus: “What the fuck is a century?”

Grub Hub: “Look, I’m sorry I could not get the chips and salsa, but I threw in an extra-large order of turnip chips and gefilte fish dip.”

Jesus: “Okay, I forgive you, my son, in the name of The Father, Me, and The Holy Ghost. How much do I owe you?”

Grub Hub: “That will be 45 shekels, plus the tip. Uh, no checks or plastic, either.”

Jesus: “What the fuck is plastic?”

Grub Hub: “Plastics. The Graduate…uh, never mind.”

Jesus swipes his hand behind the Grub Hub’s ear and produces a fresh, crisp, 100-shekel bill, out of thin air, and gives it to him.

Jesus: “Here you go, kiddo. Keep the change. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Grub Hub: “There is only one place, right? This is it, right? Is there another place? The whole world is right here, I’ve seen the maps.”

Jesus: “It’s just a figure of speech, dude. Take the money.”

Grub Hub: “Gee, thanks, Jesus.”

Grub Hub looks closely at the bill.

Grub Hub: “Wait a minute.  Who is this guy, with the weird haircut, pictured on my 100-shekel bill?”

Jesus takes the shekel bill. Looks at it and realizes it is Ben Franklin pictured on the bill.

Jesus: “Whoops! My bad. Hang on.”

Jesus swipes his hand, once again, behind Grub Hub’s ear, miraculously produces another 100-shekel bill, then hands it to Grub Hub. He inspects the 100-shekel bill closely to see who is pictured on it.

Grub Hub: “Awright! Julius Caesar! Big Julie. I love this guy. That’s better. Thanks.”

Jesus: “No problem. Now, go with Dad.”

Grub Hub: “Can I ask you a question?”

Jesus: “Of course, my son.”

Grub Hub: “How come you have a Puerto Rican first name. There are no Jews named Jesus.”

Jesus: “Dad saw the original stage production of West Side Story and named me after one of the Jets. Besides, Sheldon Christ, is not going to inspire a whole new, world-wide religion.”

Grub Hub: “Makes sense. Will you need anything tomorrow?”

Jesus: “No, but maybe this coming Sunday.”

Grub Hub: “This coming Sunday? That’s Easter Sunday. I don’t work holidays.”

 

 

 

Presidency of the Traveling Poopy Pants

It has been rumored due to Trump’s abuse of stimulants, Adderall, and massive consumption of junk food, that he is incontinent and has been wearing a huge Adult Diaper for years.

In the book and movie, “Citizen Cohn”, Roy Cohn, Trump’s mentor, and role model, is in a hospital bed dying of AIDS. Cohn, of course, denied he was gay up to his dying breath.

During the film, Cohn is “visited” by the spirits of the people he fucked over in his long career as a pit bull, ruthless, shyster lawyer.

Maybe Trump will end up the same way; dying of the virus named after him (trumpvirus), alternating suffocating and shitting in his pants:

INT. – Hospital ICU – DAY

Trump is on a ventilator. He is hallucinating. He sees Putin enter his room, walk over to his bedside, and stand over him.

Putin: “Donald, you don’t look so good. How do you feel?”

Trump gasps for air and can barely manage a hoarse whisper.

Trump (weakly): “My numbers are the highest in…”

Putin (interrupting): “You owe me money, Donald. You got my money, Donald?”

Trump (faintly): “Of course, Vlad…”

Putin pulls the ventilator away from Trump’s mouth.

Putin: “I can’t hear you, Donald. Speak up.”

Trump hits the call button. A nurse appears at the door. Putin has vanished.

Nurse: “Oh, Mr. Trump, your ventilator fell off again.”

She puts it back on his mouth. She leaves the room. Trump looks toward the foot of the bed and sees Hillary Clinton.

Hillary: “Hello, Donald.”

Trump (surprised): “Holy shit, who let you out of jail. You’re supposed to be locked up.”

Hillary (sweetly): “Oh, Donald. I was never locked up. I beat you in the popular vote, remember? I’ve been the de facto president all these years.”

Trump shakes his head “no” violently and his ventilator flies off his mouth. Hillary sees the ventilator laying on the floor. She picks it up and puts it awkwardly over Trump’s ear.

Hillary: “There you go. Keep listening to your favorite music.”

She disappears. A nurse comes in to check in on Trump and finds him choking and gasping for air.

Nurse (shocked): “How the hell did that ventilator get awkwardly over your ear, sweetie?”

Trump (barely audible): “Hillary. Hillary did it. She was here. She did it.”

Nurse: “Now, now, Mr. Trump. You know you are not allowed any visitors.”

A disgusting, wet, long, slow, slide trombone, fart sound bubbles up from underneath the sheets. The nurse sniffs the air and makes a face.

Nurse: “Oh, oh. Somebody made a poopy pants.”

Nurse goes to the intercom and presses the button.

Nurse: “Yes, this is Nurse Ratchet. Mr. Kushner, you are needed in here, stat.”

Kushner: “No problem. OK, Rudy, you’re up.”

Rudy: “Ah, man. Not me. Get Bill Barr to do it.”

Barr: “Fuck that! Lady Lindsay, this is woman’s work. Sashay your fat ass in there”

Lady Lindsay: “Fiddley-dee. As God is my witness, I will never change another shitty diaper, as long as I live. Butterfly McQueen! Get over there!’

Butterfly (shrieking hysterically): “Me? Lordy, I don’t know nothing about changing no diaper on a honky man baby.”

Nurse: “Uh, anybody! He’s had another bigly bowel movement.”

Nurse calls the police department.

Nurse: “This is Nurse Ratchet. Connect me with Riot Control.”

A long pause, then a voice comes on the phone.

Riot Control: “Hello, this is Riot Control. What can I do for you?”

Nurse: “Do you still have those water cannons you use to break up unruly crowds of hippie protestors.?”

Riot Control: “You bet. Whatcha need?”

Nurse: “I’m taking care of Donald Trump and he has…”

Riot Control (laughing): “Let me guess, he’s shit in his pants, right?”

Nurse: “Yes, how did you know?”

Riot Control: “I used to work on The Apprentice on Shit Control. Had to hose him down three, four times a day. Be right there.”

Nurse: “Oh, good…”

Another huge, gag inducing, wet flatulent bomb erupts from under the sheets.

Nurse: “Oh, Jesus God, NO!”

Nurse leaves the room screaming in horror.

FADE OUT

CUE THEME SONG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4j7ggZqbiU