Saturday, January 7, 2017

America's Rigid, Throbbing Cock

What Gov. Palin used to call the lamestream media is predictably beside itself over your having noted in a tweet this past week that Arnold Schwarzenegger got "swamped" (or destroyed) by [sic] comparison to the ratings machine, DJT. So much for him being a movie star…” You went on to point out that your ratings were higher in the programme’s maiden season, before America had taken it to its heart, than Gov. Schwarzenegger’s after 14 seasons of the show becoming an American cultural institution. According to the lamestream media, your tweet was vindictive, petty, and self-glorifying, nowhere more than when you described yourself as a (or, as you put it, the) rating machine. I think, though, that we both know the real reason for your detractors’ umbrage. They envy your manliness. Has any of them ever faced down the dude who for decades, first through his remarkable musculature, then through his hypermacho movie roles, and latterly for having been found to have knocked up his and his ex-wife’s extremely not-hot housekeeper, exemplified (Austro-) American virility? Behold what the putatively hypervirile Governator is today, sir: your bitch! And which of you did it without steroids? You da man, Mr. President-Elect! 

As, in the past 18 months, you have made every adversary your bitch. How we laughed when that square-jawed, silver-templed personification of Mormon rectitude, Mitt Romney, came crawling to you after your election in spite of having talked smack about you during the campaign. “And Gov. Romney,” we can picture you telling your server while your little lickspittle du jour Rinse Previous snickered in obeisance, “will have the crow. Rare.” Where’s your God now, loser? LOL ROFL LMFAO! You da man, Mr. President-Elect!

We recall with delight little Marco Rubio daring to insinuate during the campaign that your penis might be disproportionately small, as your fingers are. How we roared our delight when you guaranteed — guaran-fucking-teed, Jack! — that you had no such problem. And now, with you about to become the most powerful man on the planet while little Marco has a little pout-a-thon and tries not to be devoured by palmetto bugs and stable flies down in a part of Florida you don’t (yet!) own, we can coolly consider the question of which of you is getting the higher-grade pussy. His wife Jeanette was a Miami Dolphins cheerleader. BFD, right! On what planet does leading cheers for the Dolphins, who’ve been losers since the Don Shula era a million years ago, compare to posing for a girl-on-girl, uh, spread in British GQ, as Melania did? On the hottest day of her life, Jeanette Rubio was maybe an 8.5. Even in her latter forties, Melania’s still at least a 9, and does anybody doubt that, as she gets ever nearer to 50, you’ll trade her in on somebody even hotter? Nothing but double-digits will do for the leader of the Free World, yo! You da man, Mr. President-Elect!

Can you imagine how Vladimir Putin is going to feel when you meet face-to-face, sir — or, more accurately, face-to-solar-plexus? The guy’s 5-4! If you stand behind him (nudge nudge, wink wink), you’ll be able to rest your chin on his little bald head! We’ll just see who’s the manlier leader! But the fact is that you don’t manifest your superiority only physically, but intellectually too. That you have the Really Good Brain to which you alluded so often during the presidential campaign is manifest in your every utterance, in your every tweet, even in the way you scowl censoriously during television interviews. You da man, Mr. President-Elect!

I’m just now rereading your New Year tweet, in which you sarcastically profess love for those who have dared defy you, “including…my many enemies and those who have fought me and lost so badly they just don’t know what to do.” As though one could feel anything other than pity or contempt for anyone so stupid as to fail to recognize yours as the greatness, and the power, and the glory, and the victory, and the majesty! All that is in the heaven and in the earth is yours, sir. Yours is the kingdom, Mr. President-Elect. You da man!


The evangelicals will wince when I say this, but are they too not your bitches now? You, sir, are America’s rigid, throbbing cock. Make us great again, sir! Oh, do!

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