Fictional trump is a helluva guy.
If you blink you’ll miss him running that daily half marathon… dang it you missed it!!
Setting aside the fact that Plagiarism Barbie, Monica Crowley may in fact be the only person in the history of time to lie so much, so brazenly, so obviously and so deliberately, that it was actually too much lying, even for trump.
I know what you’re thinking ‘but I thought lying was a prerequisite for the job’, to which I’d normally say yes, in fact all 7 Deadly Sins are hiring requirements. It’s like a pre-flight checklist of evil and awful before a prospective employee can move to interview 2:
‘I’m so sorry Satan, we just aren’t seeing enough evidence of gluttony on your resume here, so we’re going to have to go ahead and pass. Come back to us when you’re ready to consume a lot more red meat, won’t you? We’re really looking for at least one sacrificial lamb a day, preferably 2, not just a few diabolical handfuls of hamsters ok. Remember our mantra — no matter what it is or who it hurts, if we WANT it, then there’s no such thing as TOO much!’
But I guess lifting a whole bunch of factual shit from people who aren’t named ya know… you, for your PHD dissertation was at least at one time, long long ago, maybe kinda sorta, a red line for the guy who during his time in office told around 30,573 untruths, or basically, 21 batshit lies a day.
It may also be that she just wouldn’t sleep with him. Even more likely if we’re being honest.
Speaking of PHD dissertations, that brings me to why I’m here.
You see, Fictional trump is a helluva guy.
It doesn’t matter that we’ve never seen a photo of the man at the beach, and certainly not one of him at the beach with his wife, and DEFINITELY not one of him at the beach with his wife, while bare chested, and there ain’t no way in any upside down, alternate reality hellscape that we have ever seen a photo of a bare chested donald trump on the beach with his wife while WORKING.
(As and aside, I don’t think he’s actually ever bare chested at all. I imagine him changing his dirty shirt under a clean shirt to avoid inflicting even if only upon himself, the blinding sight of his own stark naked skin. But I don’t like to imagine that at all, and I’m really quite mad at myself for imagining it just then, and now having subjected all of you to that grotesque mental image, and I am truly sorry, but I promise that pondering the Adonis that is fictional trump shall wash those disgusting images from your mind in much the same way that disinfectants cure Covid).
It doesn’t matter that we don’t have photos or video of trump at the beach.
Fictional trump has been to the beach. Like a lot. And he was swarmed (the many, many times he went) by great big strong men with tears in their eyes, crying ‘sir sir, we have never seen such buff, tanned, beautiful bare arms sir! May we touch them sir?’
And obviously, even if we’ve never seen it, we KNOW it would happen. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT. He wouldn’t be left alone to enjoy his bare chested wife, work and beach time, he’d be too busy tossing out autographed beach balls and auctioning off bags of “Touched by Trump’s Toes” sand to the highest bidder. For America of course. While also flexing his triceps, biceps and whatever other bulging “ceps” he has because they are after all, legendary.
It doesn’t matter that we aren’t actually even sure that donald trump can swim. Doesn’t matter that we have never seen, to my mind anyway, any proof of him… in any body of water, swimming.
It doesn’t matter that unless you count the viral meme of a diapered trump sitting on the beach in sad reflection after he LOST THE ELECTION in 2020, that there aren’t many, if any, photos the man in any kind of sand that wasn’t golf-related.
It doesn’t matter that he might be like my cat Tom (who is by the way, very often a bit of a one-sided affection receiving, but not so much giving, selfish asshole) and utterly terrified by the very notion of water, particularly water which is very wet, from the standpoint of water, but I digress… again.
You see, fictional trump is all that matters.
It doesn’t matter that in REALITY, he is a thrice married, serial philanderer and pathological liar who bragged about sexual assault and mocked a disabled reporter.
It doesn’t matter that he was found liable for rape and bragged openly, more than once about grabbing women by the pussy, he has total respect for women and has ‘done more for women in the history of the world than anyone ever. Maybe even God himself!’
Doesn’t matter that he opined on the sex life of his own daughter so often that he had to be reminded regularly by his staff that she was in fact, his daughter… he’s a “family man”.
It doesn’t matter that he cannot cite a SINGLE Bible verse when asked after calling that very same book his “favorite”.
Or that he spends his Sundays worshiping at The Church of the Immaculate Fairway, he’s making “God great again”, unlike that practicing Catholic Biden who actually does attend church every Sunday.
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