my jaundiced eye

the absurdities of life

Category: trump

kindergulag

kindergulag-1

Bienvenido a los estados unidos, oops sorry, sorry, my bad, what I meant to say was no eres bienvenido a los estados unidos. Oh for chrissake, this is just stupid, we’re american why do we have speak spanish? Why can’t we just tack up no trespassing signs along the border, or better yet build the wall out of no trespassing signs. Or maybe signs with a sombrero in a red circle with a line through it, that seems pretty clear.

Hey you, yeah you, the kid in the filthy blue tee shirt and diaper. You stink, clean yourself up for god’s sake, and quit with the constant crying. Your mama can’t hear you but I sure can and it’s driving me nuts. So shut the hell up. And you in cage ten, how many times do I have to tell you that the silver blanket is not edible. Lay off it, if you eat it you ain’t getting a new one. Where do you think you are, a holiday inn? Next thing you’ll be asking for cheesy egg scrambles and a frappacino.

Okay listen up, quit that spic whimperng and wailing, QUIET! I’m gonna remind you one more time, you are in a wonderful and caring facility, much like the expensive boarding schools we have here in america, a country unlike yours, where we actually educate our kids. And do you know who is paying for this? the american taxpayer, that’s who. And if you are lucky enough to be in one of our brand spanking new tent cities, which by the way, we built just for you! the american taxpayer is forking out over $700 a night for each and every one of you ungrateful rug ratas.  And do you know who made all of this possible? The president of the united states of america. That’s right, the most powerful man in the world. You think he doesn’t have a few other things to do besides wasting his time dragging you brats from your parents’ arms and then sending them off to some other corner of this amazing country of ours. How about you just give that a little thought, huh? Not only are you costing us americans a fortune, you are wasting our busy busy president’s precious time. Time he could use at mar a lago working on his chip shot.

If things turn out like I think they will you’ll be lucky enough to spend the rest of your lives in this wonderful country, living like you are now, in the lap of luxury all on the country’s dime. Hope you appreciate that you goddam free loaders.

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summit or sand trap?

Summit or abyss?-1

Holy mother of pearl… how in less than a day did the conald manage to piss off all of our closest allies, basically telling them to go fork themselves, because we are goddam america and we don’t need you pathetic needy pipsqueaks. Not in the trenches, not in the foxholes, not in the deserts of the middle east and especially not in any trading partnerships. The photo of merkel and macron leaning over the table giving our petulant president a what for really said it all. But honey badger, he don’t give a shit.

The conald ditched out early from the g-7 (or g-6 as it is now being called since he made it plain that poppa’s got a brand new bag o’ of totalitarian bitches to hang with) because he was itching to jet to singapore for an historic tete a tete with kimchee, the infamous two bit dictator who imprisons and kills his own people (and familial competitors) not to mention threatens the world with nuclear annihilation. Totally get it. Our own dear leader, the “dealmaker” in chief, who could in his own words tell within 60 seconds if this “summit” had been worth the time and effort, apparently had his signals jammed by the north koreans or the chinese or both because it took him almost ten minutes to fold like a cheap suitcase and get zippo from kimchee in return…talk about a singapore sling! No more military exercises with the south koreans, sure whatever, relax the sanctions, why not, and most importantly the possibility of a trump golf resort in what is currently a wasteland devoid of vegetation or anything else the starving north koreans could get their hands on, absolutely! Cheap real estate and an even cheaper experienced hard working labor force, straight from the gulags. Let’s make a deal!

After the meeting the conald and kimchee did the secret handshake and stood shoulder to shoulder smiling before an array of flags of both nations. The conald beaming because he thought he’d just nailed that nobel thing and kimchee smiling because he couldn’t believe how easy it was to buffalo this idiot. He had to be thinking, can you believe this guy’s standing next to me smiling like a miss universe contestant when I’ve just picked both his pockets, in front of the entire world? Hilarious! And btw you should have seen how he begged me to tell him the secret to getting all my people to idolize me and paint my face on everything when all he could get was a few lousy gold plated signs (that he had to pay for) in front of a couple of crummy buildings. And damn he was positively horny for my military parades.

Smile on kimchee you have absolutely earned the right to gloat. Our president’s misguided belief in his own invincibility won’t allow him to entertain the notion that he’s been played, that he didn’t win the game. That he is a loser. Wait, what? That’s impossible in trumpworld! Didn’t happen, could never happen. The conald may not have mastered the ability to get all americans to exhibit the blind idolatry of the people of north korea yet but he’s certainly learned one thing: the art of creating propaganda flicks that extol his absolute superiority, despite all evidence to the contrary. All you doubting thomases out there,  how about you get comfy in your barcaloungers and watch  his team’s cringe worthy cinematic celebration of his incredible summit victory and learn the real truth.

Cue the painters!

 

hamburger heaven

hamburger heaven

Well thanks to yet another tragic disappointment at the hands of big brother technology MJE has missed about 2000 news cycles since last week. So, this post is being updated to reflect the deviation in the earth’s rotation caused by the united states of america’s declaration of independence from the tectonic shift theory in order to become its own continent. Thanks for the memories, mexico and canada…we’re moving on uptown to north korea.

It seems as though the wedding’s back on! Guess we can put that nuclear shotgun back on the rack for the time being. But oh me oh my, the bromance between kimchee and the conald has had more offs and ons than the best little whorehouse in texas. For god’s sake, the conald even sucked up to the dimpled despot, asked him for the name of his stylist, complimented his generals’ yuge medals, and yuge hats, and confided that he thought kimchee’s sister was every bit as smoking hot as his daughter e-vanka. Kimchee however played it cool, after all the conald was doing exactly what he wanted him to do, why mess with success. Their courtship was important to each of them for wildly different reasons. Kimchee wanted worldwide validation of his tyrannical regime, his status elevated to that of the president of the united states, and most importantly a burger joint in pyongyang. The conald wanted a nobel prize, bigly. He wasn’t sure what that is exactly but fox and friends said he deserved one and he heard that obama had one so he should damn well get one too. Sadly michael cohen was unavailable just at at the moment, but man, back in the day he and his home equity line of credit could fix just about anything.

The conald, in a classic art of the deal opening gambit gave kimchee precisely what he craved, except for the burger joint, and he never had to lift one pudgy digit to get it. Seemingly unaware of his bone headed move, the conald crowed about his intention to meet with rocket man and get him that burger franchise suggesting that “my conald’s” might be a branding gold mine, helpfully offering a crapload of capital from some of his vc pals in moscow. He even dangled a kimchee apprentice type show as a sweetener but with more of a survivor theme, and if he gave up his nuclear arsenal well that would be okay too. The conald even picked a date and a venue although MJE thought it seemed a bit premature to order the boutonnieres and book the dj before he’d even been introduced to his intended. No wonder kimchee ‘s ardor waned, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Plus he’s pretty used to being the only fat bully calling the shots. Nobody puts this baby despot in a corner.

So as his opening parry kimchee did absolutely nothing. He simply had his guys blow off the initial planning meeting. told them to take a chill pill and curl up with some good pyongyang propaganda porn. Ha, ha how do you like that you arrogant orange bossy pants, you want it so bad, you’ll need to put up more than dinner and a movie. Of course, the conald never admits that he has ever been outfoxed so he made like he was the one who cancelled the meeting. Unfortunately kimchee’s snub had already been widely reported. No, no, no!!! fake news, fake news, deep state, uh corrupt lying main stream media! cried the conald. I dropped him before he dropped me, oh nuh unh no you didn’t, I dropped him first, oh yeah well…hey everybody…cat fight in the girl’s bathroom!!!

It was probably not helpful to have the vp and ss brownshirt lookalike spouting off that this deal would be like the one we did in lybia. Despite the fact that north korea is hermetically sealed, kimchee had probably heard that gadaffi agreed to give up his nukes only to get himself dragged out of a sewerage pipe, bayonetted in the bottom then shot to death. So despite the bootlicking it’s unclear where this may end up. The latest move was however a balm for the conald’s frayed ego, when north korea sent their next to worst person in that country to hand deliver a really big envelope puportedly from kimchee himself to get the negotiations back on track. Hmm, look who’s horney now? does make one wonder what they might be up to…so very eager. Maybe a relaxation of their sanctions, that dream of a burger joint empire, skimming money off e-vanka boutiques in pyongyang and a trump tower in the dmz? How about let’s get that deal done and we’ll move on to that boring nuke stuff later.

So the caterer is back on the docket, the flowers and music nailed down and trump tower singapore booked solid as we wait with bated breath for the next volley in this hair raising pying pyong game.

 

 

melanoma’s safe space

Do not enter

No woman that I can think of would ever welcome any sort of kidney infection, no way no how, unless you are melanoma that is. My guess is that she most likely considers her current condition to be nothing short of a gift from god. Ensconced in a luxurious private room in a hospital across town from the white house, presumably guarded like fort knox, she can instruct her medical team that she is not feeling well enough to receive any visitors, except barren of course. Envision the conald’s reaction to being denied entry to melanoma’s room, having reluctantly cut short his “executive time” watching fox and friends to visit his ailing wife as a demonstration of his belated fidelity. Upon arrival, photographer in tow, the implacable secret security detail on duty states that no one is to be admitted to the first lady’s room. At this the conald’s face contorts in fury and turns from its usual mesa sunset hue, to something closer to a vibrant vermilion as he stomps, screams and massages his temples taking care not to dislodge his carefully crafted coif. He bellows in frustration that he owns the goddamned place and thunders that he just might order mass castration, if he doesn’t need the eunuchs in congress to approve.  In response, the chief security officer calmly delivers the coup de grace and informs the president that mrs. trump has in fact issued firm instructions that he specifically be blocked from entering her room. What he did not disclose is that they were directed to discreetly usher in her manicurist, masseur and personal stylist the moment his motorcade is out of sight.

Six months later melanoma’s kidney infection has cleared but she remains hospitalized with an ongoing series of undiagnosable ailments which began to present themselves just hours before her scheduled release from the hospital. Initially it was a dull but extremely painful ache in her right funny bone, then an agonizing throbbing in both of her earlobes, followed by a bout of excruciating itching just to the left of her belly button. The duration of her continued hospitalization obviously required additional space for her staff and for barren’s overnights, eventually taking up an entire wing. Due to the vague but possibly contagious nature of her mysterious maladies, in the interest of national security, the president continued to be barred from her room. Her medical team finally consented to a single one hour visit per week during which he was restricted to standing in the hall and pushing 3″x5″ note cards with messages composed by callous ann conman under the door. However even these communications seemed to aggravate her symptoms and he was eventually informed that he would only be permitted to tweet her every other week. His tweets would of course be screened and any potential triggers redacted.

The doctors are baffled, but her team is united in their opinion that her conditions are chronic in nature and would in all likelihood recur periodically through 2020 and possibly 2024. They have determined that stress is the root cause of her afflictions and prescribed a long term stay in a wellness spa, perhaps in bavaria.

chewey, phooey, kaflooey and how

chewy phooey kaflooey and how

What is it with the conald and his attorneys, he hires them, goon shakes their hands for the cameras, and in a matter of months he just wants them to pick up their goddam clothes and hair products and get the hell out. Where is he finding these guys, tinder? He seems to vet his mouthpieces with the same care with which he vets his cabinet nominees. He probably overheard some yo yo bragging about how his great lawyer got him out of a speeding ticket and slam bam thank you mam, he’s the next rookie drafted by team tump. Just recently yet another one of his lawyers ran for the hills and was replaced with not one but two more. One is a new face on the scene, poor mr. flud who looks like he unwittingly wandered out of a brooks brothers catalogue. Not long for the rough and tumble of trump world, I suspect. But what ho! the conald’s also brought on chewliani the reptilian hunchback as his chief defensive tackle and attack dog.

Wouldn’t you love to be a dung beetle on the wall when meuller starts questioning the conald with that pit bull chewliani scowling and growling at his side, baring his prodigious gums in anticipation of the rumble ahead.

Looming across the table sits zen master mewler patiently waiting for the games to begin. He poses his first question:

“Mr. president who…”

Chewey cuts him off, snarling that his question is way outside of the authorized scope of his investigation and the president will not respond.

“Mr. president what…”

Chewey interrupts and growls that that question too is outside of the authorized scope of the investigation and the president will not respond.

“Mr. president where…”

Chewey hurriedly shambles to his feet, slams his fist on the table and bellows that he is fast losing his patience with this area of questioning and will not tolerate it, warning that he will remove his client from the room and discontinue any further queries if it continues.

“Mr. president when…”

At this, chewey’s cranium seems to detonate, forcing his thyroid eyes so far out of his cadaverous face that they push his trifocals off the end of his beak onto the conference table. His face turns the color of a bowl of borscht and he begins furiously sputtering in righteous indignation, his histrionics amplifying his speech impediment, reducing his frenetic rant to a series of spittle-laden squawks.

“Mr. presi….”

Finally chewey’s head literally begins to spin around. He collapses under the table, madly crab walks around the floor, and furiously scuttles out of the deposition room leaving the conald alone, directly across the table from the preternaturally placid mr. mewler. The unperturbed prosecutor quietly asks if the president would care to continue in the absence of his attorney.

The conald can feel the force within him grow, his ego and narcissism coalescing into a palpable sensation of incandescence. He is on fire. He is invincible. No one can get the best of him. He is smarter than anyone else. He always wins. He will wipe the filthy spit covered floor with this ridiculous bureaucratic hack just like he did with the losers who tried to get paid for the shoddy work they did on his condos and casino.

Like a gladiator in the arena, he can’t wait for the chute to open, the lions released and the battle joined. With absolute confidence in his infallibility, the conald crosses his arms, smirks and says, sure, why not. The hint of a smile crosses mr. mewler’s poker face as he begins the questions anew.

bang, you’re dead

bang you're dead-1

Do you really want your kid’s teacher packing in the classroom? Really? Boy oh boy I am neither a sociologist nor an education or behavioral expert but even MJE can see the (literal) fatal flaws in this idiotic idea. The conald has revised his blanket suggestion that all teachers be armed to a vague recommendation that only teachers that are “adept” with guns should carry. Hmmmm. Adept, does that mean someone who can hit a target in the protected confines of a gun range? Or someone who is a pretty good deer hunter? Or maybe someone who is terrific on his or her playstation shooting up all the aliens?

Proficiency with a gun is obviously vital, but what about the psychological ability of an educator to actually shoot another human being, even in a relatively calm situation of danger. Never mind in a chaotic atmosphere of panicked students and staff members wildly running amidst a hail of gunfire? What are the chances that the armed teacher would remain icy calm, take accurate aim at the gunman and hit him (I just say him because virtually all mass shooters are men…another good topic to explore) without harming any innocents? I imagine those odds are pretty slim.

I think perhaps a far more likely scenario might be a student who gets pissed off at another student or his teacher and advances on the teacher, overwhelms him or her, takes the gun or gets the key to the drawer where it is locked and is so pumped up that he just starts shooting. Or say a troublemaker kid starts towards the teacher in a menacing manner, does that teacher have the psychological capacity to take out a gun and shoot the unarmed student? Without the availability of a gun there might instead be a fist fight in the hall or a melee on the playground, leaving some bruises, black eyes and detention slips when it’s all over. No one is dead or mortally wounded and there are no traumatized and heart broken survivors.

And what are the consequences for the armed teacher who may commit murder or inflict grave injury on an unarmed student? Censure, suspension, criminal charges? Even without any punishment, would that teacher ever be able to face going back to teach her students as though nothing had ever happened. I suspect that he or she would be damaged forever from the terrible guilt.

And now we have the news that the armed and trained broward county deputy charged with protecting the students from harm at parkland simply stayed outside the building “in a defensive posture” as he heard the gunfire inside. He couldn’t bring himself to do what he was actually trained and hired for. When the gunfire stopped and the bodies lay dead on the floor he finally summoned the courage to enter. Which begs the question, if this experienced person could not handle the situation, why in the world would anyone expect mr peplum in the department of fashion design and teacher of the wildly popular ap class “from the bustle to the hustle” or mrs cruller in the cafeteria, who can serve up 500 lunches, tray to trash, in under 30 minutes, to be more effective in such harrowing circumstances. The idea is absurd on its face and its being put forth by the president is the highest form of crass political gamesmanship. He glibly throws this red meat to his base, knowing full well that it has absolutely no chance of going anywhere. Then when the next school shooting happens, and it will, he will puff himself up in righteous indignation saying if they’d only listened to me those kids would be alive today. Using dead children to promote oneself politically is truly the vilest form of indecency I know of.

empathizer in chief? SAD!

be still thy beating heart-1

If our president cannot display heartfelt compassion and empathy after a tragedy like that which took place in parkland florida last week what the hell could possibly move him? Wait I know, getting impeached and or indicted for conspiring with the russians and money laundering, bet that would get him good and choked up.

The speech he gave to the nation after the massacre was almost painful to listen to. It was so patently obvious that he didn’t give two figs about those kids and he just did it because the president is expected to say something. The only thing missing from his tepid remarks was a plug for mar-a-lago. I suspect the wordsmith for this bit of synthetic pathos was none other than stephen ‘lead lids’ miller. It had all the hallmarks of his typical homilies and his own personal style of delivery; plodding, pedantic, condescending, and completely and utterly devoid of any human feeling. It was almost laughably hypocritical, “answer hate with love,answer cruelty with kindness” telling the audience how important it is to “make deep human connections”, uhhh, haven’t seen any sign that the conald follows that sage advice in his own life. He then addressed the children directly saying “you may feel lost, alone, confused or even scared.” Gee ya think? Yet another nut case sauntered into a school and gunned down seventeen people and wounded a score more with an easily (legally) acquired automatic weapon and kids might be feeling scared? Wow, how perceptive conald, you really nailed that one.

From then on it was a laundry list of the officials he was to meet with which I suppose was meant to demonstrate the depth of his concern to the grieving parents and schoolmates. Maybe it’s just me, but if my child had just been killed in his or her classroom I don’t think having the president meet with the nations governors and attorneys general (at what was without doubt a previously planned confab) would provide too much balm for my broken heart. Unless of course if gun control might be on the agenda which it almost certainly will not.

Perhaps the fact that he and melanoma delayed their weekend getaway at mar-a-lago by a couple of hours (and a round of golf) to zip over to parkland offered them the solace they need from their president. Or not.

like, genius in chief

Genius in chief

The conald, during his “executive time” watching fox and friends had someone read him exerpts of the scathing new book about the dysfunctional trump white house and the low regard with which his staff and cabinet members regard his intellect. He countered that he is a genius or in his words, “like, really smart,” furthermore in his own assessment “a very stable genius.” He had previously thrown down the intellectual gauntlet to his secretary of state, rex tillerson who had referred to him as a forking moron, by daring him to take an iq test to see who is in fact the smarter cookie.

I am sure his staff shifted into super overdrive figuring out how they could create an intelligence test that could possibly display the conald’s superior intellect. Their solution was to have have both men sit for a stanford-binet test of intelligence. The test for mr tillerson would contain actual sample questions from the real test whereas the conald’s test would contain a somewhat different series of questions. For added insurance, the president’s test would consist of ten questions and mr tillerson’s 135 questions. But in the interest of fairness, both men would be given equal time to complete their tests.

MJE has obtained copies of the tests and is happy to share a sampling of them with her loyal readers…

The real questions are listed first with multiple choice answers, followed by the conald’s “alternative” questions and answers:

  1. Four individuals form a business and create a contract to divide the profits equally among the four. Gary invests $11,000, Neil invests $4,000, Jill invests $5,000, and Steve invests $8,000. The profits at the end of the year are $5,600. How much less does Gary receive than if the profits were divided in relation to the amount invested by each owner?

Answer: $1000, $1400, $800 or $2200.

Alternative trump question:

Four individuals form a business and create a contract to divide the profits equally. How much of the profits does each investor receive?

Answer: one tenth, one fiftieth, one fourth, zero. Contracts are for losers. I would get 100%. Winners don’t share.

  1. The number, “three thousand, eight hundred, sixty-eight,” when written backward, is read, “eight thousand, six hundred, eighty-three.”

Answer: true or false

Alternative question:

Spit written backward spells tips.

Answer: true or false

  1. Tony gets married next month. One year ago from the date he will get married, Tony was away in Spain for New Year’s Eve. What month is it?

Answer: October, November, January, February, December

Alternative question: Where is Spain?

Answer: Paris, Equador, the failing European Union or Manitoba

  1. Do the words credit and acclaim have opposite meanings, similar meanings or no relation?

Answer: opposite, similar or no relation

Alternative question: What is credit?

Answer: A way to buy things with money you don’t have, a piece of plastic that gets you free stuff, how you build a business with other people’s money and never have to pay them back, or all of the above

  1. Three painters can paint three walls in three minutes. How many painters are needed to paint 27 walls in nine minutes?

Answer: 3,6,9,12,15

Alternative question: Where is our really fantastic amazing president going to build a great big beautiful wall and who’s going to pay for it?

Answer: Between Dallas and San Bernadino-paid for by St. Louis, between Brooklyn and Reno paid for by Minneapolis, between us and them-paid by them, obviously, or between Florida and Nebraska-paid for by Spain.

Both tests are extremely difficult, but from comparative percentage of correct answers provided by mr tillerson and mr trump it is clear that mr trump’s intellect and reasoning power are superior. His ability to reduce complex problems to the least mentally taxing analysis is unprecedented and when it comes to “thinking outside the box” he literally has no equal.

a totally positive 2018!

a totally positive 2018!

MJE tends to lean to the dark side in life but decided to start 2018 with some awesome positive predictions for the new year:

Totally positive:

That congress will work diligently in a bipartisan effort to annihilate the other side.

That the OB&C will wear his pajamas inside out every other day, trust me on this.

That e-vanka will continue to breathlessly pursue her life goal of empowering women who work, except the ones in bangladesh and vietnam who slave away 12 hours a day in dangerous factories to slap together her eponymous fashion crap.

That the conald and congress will open up every national park for oil drilling and natural gas extraction and pursue any potential disney projects.

That the conald will continue to trade insults with dim sum oon about who’s the bigger bad ass, or who in fact has or is the bigger ass in general.

That john kelly will either quit as the conald’s chief of staff, have a nervous breakdown or both.

That jared kushner will announce he’s transgender.

That bannon will prove to be the worst political frenemy in human history. He and the conald are a match made in hell. Gotta love it.

That tillerson will quit and move to a deserted island without wi-fi and outside of range of north korean missiles.

That e-vanka will wake up one morning and realize this orthodox jewish stuff just doesn’t add value to her brand and will say fork it and order in pulled pork for shabbat.

That melanoma will have a safe room installed in her residential quarters should the conald get any randy notions after watching the hotties on fox and friends. Run melanoma, run like the wind.

That the democrats will be their own worst enemy in the mid-term elections. There’s only one roy moore after all.

That the planet’s future is totally dependent upon the conald’s inability to hold a thought including what the secret codes are for launching a nuclear attack.

Stay positive!

the trump interview

the interview

I saw that prince harry has just interviewed president obama and it occurred to MJE that an interview with the conald might make for an interesting contrast…

ph: Good morning mr president thank you for agreeing to this interview.

dt: No problem. Now that I have single handedly passed the biggest most phenomenal tax cut in history for our downtrodden hedge fund managers and real estate magnates, my calendar is freed up a bit. But, I am still incredibly busy monitoring fox and fake news and tweeting out word salad blasts about my totally unfair coverage. If I get punched I punch back twice as hard, just ask the mooch.

ph: So mr president, has becoming president been a difficult adjustment?

dt: Absolutely, it’s 100% harder than I thought it would be.

ph: Really, in what regard?

dt: Well harry, like you, I made my money the old fashioned way, I inherited it, handed to me on a plate like a beautiful really well done omaha steak. I called the shots in my companies, no stockholders to worry about and the bankruptcy courts in the us are a gift from god. Invest other people’s money, if things go south, not my problem. Investors lose, contractors lose but I come out smelling like a rose. The other thing is that you and I both live in palatial homes with lots of gold and own an amazing amount of real estate. Best of all, we don’t pay any taxes! Only losers pay taxes.

But now I’ve got the democrats, the generals, mccain, scarborough, flake, the blacks, the mexicans, the women, the gays, the transgenders, whatever they are, the aclu, the freedom caucus, the liberals, the conservatives and the un-american public all bitching about how I can’t do this or can’t do that, chewing on my ass bigly. Plus I have to live in government subsidized housing. Wish it was like you guys, you just issue a royal decree or something and boom! Done.

ph: Well mr president that’s not exactly true, royals don’t make laws, parliament is the actual governing body.

dt: What? Are you sure?

ph: Yes, mr president I’m sure, the royal family is really just a figure head.

dt: Well that sucks. Seems like you and I are more alike than you think.

ph: I certainly doubt it, but tell me how do you think we’re similar?

dt: Well, you and I are both scrappy second sons overshadowed by the first born. Also we both like to marry dark foreign women, although your gal is a lot darker than mine, you know what I mean? By the way, congratulations on your engagement, that meghan is one great looking piece of ass! I bet she’s a tiger in the sack, am I right? Sure hope it works out better than your parents’ marriage, boy was that a mess! I could never understand why your dad decided to get rid of your red hot mama for that cow camilla. I’d have grabbed your mother’s poodle in a heartbeat. She was definitely smoking hot, and not shy about spreading it around either.

ph: Perhaps we could move on mr president.

We’ll move on when I say so, so just cool your jets little prince. There’s one more thing. You and I were both pretty bad boys in the good ole days. Man, those pics of you in the nazi get-up looked sorta bad, but I don’t get why everyone jumped all over you. After all, it’s no big secret that you’ve had plenty of nazi sympathizers in your family, right? Your grandfather’s a kraut and your granny’s uncle ed, gave up the throne to marry a nazi whore with a face like a horse and absolutely no tits or ass. So people just need to get over it. Plus hitler, despite a few missteps, sure made the trains (especially to buchanwald, dachau and treblinka) run on time and infrastructure is a bitch, trust me.

ph: Well, that is a frightening thought. But moving on, what comments do you have about the numerous alleged connections to the russians?

dt: Look harry, that is all a bunch of fake news. Never happened. Don’t believe a word of it. It is true that I have a soft spot for eastern european beauties and autocratic rulers, but that doesn’t mean I have a man crush on putin, although he does have a hellova handshake and looks damn good half naked on a horse. Plus he’s got the scary dead eyes of a shark. But he’s way too short for me. In the situation room his code name is teeny penie.

ph: So neither you, your family nor your businesses have any financial relationships with russia?

ph: Harry, why in the world would I or my family or businesses have any direct financial dealings with russia or any other dirty money sources when I have stooges like manafort and flynn around to take the fall? I’m not a moron, despite what that worthless asshole tillerson said.

ph: It does looks as though those two associates of yours folded pretty quickly when the fbi came calling, does it worry you that they might incriminate you?

dt: Absolutely not harry, as I said during my campaign I could shoot someone in the middle of fifth avenue and not lose a vote

ph: But you could get indicted or impeached, right?

dt: I believe in a prevent defense kid, I’ve already got pardon papers signed and ready to go for myself, jared, junior, pence, sessions, huckaby sanders, preibus, spicer, what’s his name, the coffee boy, hope hicks, kelly anne, sebastian gorka, lewandowsky, and of course flynn and manafort, even though honestly, I wouldn’t recognize those two in a line up. And knowing what I know, I have a few other signed blanks in my hip pocket just in case meulie starts to hit real paydirt.

ph: Well mr president this has been a very enlightening conversation, perhaps we’ll talk again when mr meuller’s investigation finishes up. If you are still president.

dt: What the hell do you mean by that you little ginger prick? Ever wonder where that head of orange brillo of yours came from? Bet you’re a bastard. You sure look like it. And trust me I know a goddam bastard when I see one.

Now get out of here you royal pain in the ass and grab me a diet coke while you’re up.