When Will I Get Over It?
Honestly, our… [sounds of gagging and retching]… President-Elect seems to know precisely how to push all my buttons. I want to ignore his mad, deluded, petrifying soc. med. pronouncements but it’s impossible.
In fact, it’s my duty — and yours, babies, make no mistake about it — to call L’il Duce out every time he moves us thismuch closer to the fascist-capitalist heaven he masturbatorily fantasizes about in bed every night.
Camp Will Make You Free
So, L’il Duce wants to slam dissenters who burn the American flag into prison.
Then again, prison‘s such an awful term. How about camp? Y’know, the kind of camp where inmat…, oops, sorry, guests, can sort of concentrate on their sins.
Let’s be frank. The underlying philosophy of L’il Duce, his Trumpist followers, and much of the rest of the neo-Republican party boils down to this:
If you’re not rich, if you have a hard time making ends meet, if you’re falling behind because you’re sick or slow, if you’re not ambitious or cut-throat enough to mow down the rest of the world competing for limited dollars and resources, it’s your own damned fault so don’t bother us with your whining.
That’s it, babies.
That’s the philosophy this holy land bought into hook, line and sinker when it Electoral College-ly selected the orange baboon to be our beloved leader.