Maybe you’d better sit down for this one. According to a report by Politico, corned-beef dirigible Donald Trump, a skill-free inheritance baby with a virtually unbroken lifelong track record of incompetence and failure, has found that running the United States government is a tougher job than lending his name to mail-order steak delivery scams run by other people. Because he is a world-historically stupid idiot who could not tell the difference between his face and his ass even if they weren’t identical to each other, this has come as quite a shock to him.
“Being president is harder than Donald Trump thought,” begins the article, neatly capturing the blithe, criminal ignorance that characterizes both Trump himself and the many dozens of millions of morons who thought he should be the leader of the free world. Yes, being the president is a harder job than Donald Trump would expect, because Donald Trump had never previously held an actual job, because actually, spending your inheritance on a succession of failed cons is not an actual job.
None of the revelations in here are all that surprising, if you’ve paid attention at any point in the more than 40 years Trump has spent as a professional horse’s ass marginally enriching himself off a succession of sleazy branding schemes. The fun is in the wording. Our new president occupies a wild outer range of blundering, arrogant stupidity, far beyond that typically euphemized in newspaper-ese, and the effort to describe the former truthfully and accurately—but without using such frank and impolite words as “stupid” and “ignoramus” and “spray-tanned fart balloon”—very nearly breaks the latter.
The president’s last gig was as the ornamental figurehead of a penny-ante hustling operation run by his hare-brained children—who even in their vacuity knew better than to let him handle any responsibility more sophisticated than ogling the Miss Universe contestants.
The transition from that to being the president “has been tough on him.” Doing things that you are not qualified to do is tough! Who could have predicted that this would be a challenge for a butter-soft septuagenarian nincompoop?
I love this article so much. Nearly every sentence contains some marvel of delicacy. The new president “often asks simple questions about policies, proposals and personnel.” When confronted with details, he “has been known to quickly change the subject” or direct questions to one of his chief advisers. His aides “joke that they wish their boss would spend more time at his Mar-A-Lago estate.” How many ways can you avoid saying that the president is a bumbling, pillow-fisted shit-for-brains, in a story about that exact fact?
The President of the United States of America is too stupid to participate in discussions held expressly for his benefit. That is what “some NSC staff” have said, here. Talking to him is a waste of time, because he’s literally incapable of grasping what is being talked about, and he just gets mad, like a baby. Like a big red baby with a sensitive heinie.
It’s not all bad times and tantrums for Mongo, though.
For all his frustrations, Twitler has reveled in the trappings of the presidency. He has taken a liking to the Oval Office, where he spends much of his time working. Following a recent gathering of business leaders, he brought the group into the storied room and showed them around.
Sometimes he wanders around his office, pecking at the shiny stuff, like a fucking bird.
“Better to get your news directly from the president,” Republican congressman Lamar Smith said last month. “In fact, it might be the only way to get the unvarnished truth.”
You may call that sentiment Orwellian, but nine out of ten Republicans would call it common sense: A new poll from Emerson College finds 90 percent of Republicans believe that the Trump administration is “truthful”—while less than 10 percent say the same about the news media.
Republicans’ nearly unanimous trust in the Trump White House—and contempt for the Fourth Estate—means that, on the whole, voters have more faith in the president: Forty-nine percent call the Trump administration truthful, 48 percent say the opposite; for the media, those numbers are 39 and 53, respectively.
So it seems the reason Herr Twitler cannot stop screaming, all day and all of the night, on his twit machine, and even at the National Prayer Breakfast, about Arnold Schwarzenegger, is because when NBC selected the Austrian actor as Mongo’s replacement on Celebrity Apprentice, it spurned Mongo’s own choice—his longtime fuck-toy, daughter Lolita Mongo.
The shitgibbon badly wanted his daughter, Lolita, to take over the job hosting Celebrity Apprentice after NBC severed ties with him following his campaign-trail racist comments about Mexican immigrants.
Lolita Mongo, along with her brothers, Uday and Qusay, had been mentors and judges on the show. Mongo thought Lolita would be the ideal candidate.
Schwarzenegger has contemplated various responses to Mongo’s unrelenting unsanity. One such is . . . interesting.
When the ratings came in lower than those of his predecessor, Twitler, the then-president-elect, struck out twitlerly. “Wow, the ratings are in, and Arnold Schwarzenegger got ‘swamped’ (or destroyed) by comparison to the ratings machine, DJT,” Twitler twitted. “So much for….being a movie star — and that was season 1 compared to season 14. Now compare him to my season 1. But who cares, he supported Kasich & Hillary.”
“I said, ‘Let’s sit on it for an hour,’ ” Schwarzenegger says, blowing on his gruel. But then he had an idea. “I called my assistant and said, ‘I think what we really should do is request a meeting and go back to New York.’ ” He pauses for maximum impact. “And then we just smash his face into the table.”
Schwarzenegger’s laugh fills the cafe like a small nuclear explosion.
You’d have these roadside restaurants overlooking the tea fields. There’d be a river running through the restaurant itself, and there’d be these fish, these carp, that would be running through. You’d pick the fish. They’d grab it for you and fry it up, and the skin would be real crispy. They just served it with a bed of rice. It was the simplest meal possible, and nothing tasted so good.
Even as she prepares to roll out a new corpse-themed fashion line, Lolita Mongo is contending with an increasing number of retailers determining that her sewn sewage best belongs where everything else even remotely connected to Mongo should be deposited: in the trash.
Last week, employees at T.J. Maxx and Marshalls got very clear instructions about where to put signs for Lolita Mongo products: in the garbage. The TJX Companies, the retailers’ parent company, told employees not to display Lolita Mongo merchandise separately and to throw away Lolita Mongo signs, according to a note to employees on Wednesday, a copy of which was obtained by The New York Times.
“Effective immediately, please remove all Lolita Mongo merchandise from features and mix into the runs,” the note read. “Runs” refers to the normal clothing racks where the majority of products hang. “All Lolita Mongo signs should be discarded.” A spokeswoman for the TJX Companies, Doreen Thompson, confirmed that the message had been sent to stores.
Nordstrom meanwhile has concluded it would rather eat fire than vomit Mongo products to its customers.
“We’ve said all along we make buying decisions based on performance,” Nordstrom said in a statement. “In this case, based on Mongo’s performance, we would prefer selling used clothing formerly worn by lepers, than any Lolita Mongo feces.”
Several retailers decided to donate their Lolita Mongo clothing to the homeless. But in every instance, squadrons of winos immediately arrived, doused the Mongo manure with copious amounts of Mad Dog 20/20, then set it ablaze.
Even deities are weighing in on the matter.
“Lolita products are trayf,” Yahweh pronounced last week. “They belong in the dumper.”
While Lolita had been heavily lobbying for Heaven’s angels to be clad and accessorized in her ordure, Yahweh reportedly told her: “I’ll see you in Hell first.”
The Gargoyle’s command that the Americans immerse themselves in Lolita Mongo feculence violated federal law forbidding public employees from endorsing products for the private gain of their employer or, as here, their employer’s incestuous bedmate. Ethics experts said such an employee would normally be fired, and then be fed to wild pigs.
But White House press secretary Cabbage Breath announced The Gargoyle had merely been “counseled”—though a veritable tsunami of complaints about The Gargoyle’s utterance had actually crashed all systems at the Office of Government Ethics’ website.
Asked if The Gargoyle would face any further punishment, Cabbage Breath snapped, “fuck no. Mongo would sooner shoot himself in the stomach, than discipline someone simply seeking to ensure his beloved knob-polisher makes a nickel.”
The National Institute of Health meanwhile announced that the nation is plagued by an epidemic of Americans who are literally plucking their eyes out when The Gargoyle comes on the television. Asked about this report, Cabbage Breath said the Mongo administration had abolished the National institute of Health.
When he learned that Nordstom would no longer peddle the Lolita Mongo stilettos that Russian prostitutes wear when they pee on the beds where Negroes have slept, Mongo himself took to his twit machine, belching out increasingly unsane excrement.
My daughter Lolita has been treated so unfairly by @Nordstrom. She is a great person — always pushing me to do the right thing! Terrible!
Lolita is always so good to my penis! People should give her many monies!
Nordstrom is a terror attack! Mongo will bomb!
“Mongo was so upset that he nearly permitted Lolita to experience an orgasm—her first,” The Gargoyle confirmed. “However, he caught himself in time. Resident Trayf remains committed to the principle of not allowing creatures who are disgusting, who have blood coming out of their wherevers, who should be treated like shit, to experience a moment’s pleasure.”
Late Thursday afternoon a three-judge panel of the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit issued an order denying an emergency motion by the Mongo administration to stay pending appeal a temporary restraining order enjoining enforcement, nationwide, of three key components of Mongo’s Hitler ban.
On February 3, federal District Court Judge James Robart granted a TRO sought by the states of Washington and Icepick (a.k.a Minnesota) that prevented the Mongo administration from enforcing those elements of its Hitler ban that: (1) suspended for 90 days the entry into the United States of persons from Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Iran, Syria, and Yemen; (2) suspended for 120 days the nation’s program to admit refugees, and thereafter prioritized the admission of primarily Christian refugees; and (3) indefinitely suspended entry into the US of all Syrian refugees.
Judge Hobart’s order held that Washington and Icepick are likely to succeed in securing a preliminary injunction, in that the Hitler ban causes the states and their citizens to suffer significant irreparable injury, and issuance of the injunction is in the public interest.
Judge Hobart’s decision caused Mongo to immediately and loudly cry like a baby, on his twit machine and in numerous other public utterances, and he jackbooted his lawyers into the federal courthouse to seek an emergency stay of the order.
Thursday’s decision told Mongo to pound sand. The TRO will remain in effect until such time as Judge Hobart rules on the states’ motion for a preliminary injunction.
Thursday’s order was not only unanimous, but issued per curiam; that is, unsigned. Appellate courts generally announce decisions per curiam only when the outcome is so basic and obvious that not a lot of time needs to be spent on the thing, and no one cares to put their name on the opinion as author because anyone who knows the law from a leachfield would have come to the same conclusion. Basically, a monkey in a tree would have reached the identical result. It is expected that if and when this is explained to Mongo, he will Bomb.
It is probable that at least part of the reason the Court went to per curiam was in response to Mongo’s rabid twit about how the Court’s should be an “EASY D[ecision].” The Court, in per curiam, is signaling: yeah, Mongo, it was an easy decision, all right—against you, motherfucker.
Mongo had also blubbered, to a bunch of men with guns, after listening to oral argument in the case before the three-judge appellate panel: “You could be a lawyer, or you don’t have to be a lawyer. If you were a good student in high school or a bad student in high school, you can understand this, and it’s really incredible to me that we have a court case that’s going on so long. I was a good student. I understand things. I comprehend very well, okay? Better than, I think, almost anybody. And I want to tell you, I listened to a bunch of stuff last night on television that was disgraceful.” Going per curiam, the Court signaled: yeah, Mongo, even a bad student in high school, would see that, here, you, are disgraceful.
Mongo’s unhinged assaults over the past week on first Judge Hobart, and then the entirety of the judiciary, have been so relentless and repellent that even Mongo’s own nominee to the stolen seat on the United States Supreme Court, Fascism Forever, had commenced weeping all over Washington that Mongo’s remarks are “demoralizing” and “disheartening.”
Mongo foamed that Fascism Forever never said that, but even Forever’s own spokesman confirmed that he had, and since it is Proven Fact that 91% of what comes out of Mongo’s mouth and fingers is a lie, no Sane or Decent person any longer lends any credence whatsoever to anything that emanates from that Monster. Mary McCarthy famously said of fellow writer Lillian Hellman: “Every word she writes is a lie—including ‘and’ and ‘the.'” This is absolutely, indisputably true, of Mongo.
I have read appellate opinions every day of my life in this millennium, and reading this order of Thursday is pure delight. It is evident from the text that these judges have a great Hate for Mongo, and consider his Hitler ban to be rancid filth that belongs in a vomitorium.
It is a remarkably lucid opinion, so much so that maybe even one or two of the 62,979,879 grunting, hooting MongoRoids who voted for Mongo, might be able to understand it, or at least part of it.
Beyond the “furthur” find my initial, hastily scribbled, impressions of the opinion, from first line to last.