Thursday, November 17, 2022


The latest announcement from Mar A Lago is that the 'president-as-yet-to-be-elected' is NOT in a secret love dungeon with a zebra wearing a spandex body suit. This was proclaimed during an interminable screech tantrum by the beloved loser in chief with the small, small hands, during which kidnapped spectators were not allowed to leave, and kept quiescent by an army of private security guards with cattle prods. The absence of daughter in chief and weasely son-in-law in chief was not remarked upon, attendees had been advised not to do so or they would be next, and the hairy faced son licked his lips at the prospect.

The anointed one embraced everybody there with his all encompassing flatulence, and declared himself pleased to have their attention. Numerous Republicans openly wept.

A giant centipede sped across the floor and declared himself the winner of all elections, and the second coming, before escaping through a plate glass window.
Okay, that's not quite how it happened. But it would have been more interesting. Melania would have stifled her boredom, and the 'no-one-else-but-Trump-hallelujah' crowd would have lapped it up anyway. As it was, it ended up being "Florida man lays an egg", and 'oh lord may the crocodiles eat me now" for everybody intellectually more advanced than an Alabama Christian.

Normally I read speeches instead of watching the broadcast, but that proved impossible because of all the mis-spellings in the transcription.

I was looking for the recipe for charred beefsteak doused with ketchup.
Dammit, this came up instead.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

No comments:

Search This Blog


One of my earliest grammar school memories naturally involves chocolate. Of which I was fonder than many of my classmates, who preferred Dut...