Yes, I am well aware that I am in the middle of an epic Shakespeare rant this week, explaining in the goofiest of terms the reason I believe Shakespeare is not Shaksper. But you have to mark a solemn occasion like the onset of the end-times. So I thought I might pay dissembling dreary lip service to the inauguration of a man who, if he appeared in the middle of a Dick Tracy episode, would be known as the villainous Cheeto-head.
You see, I don’t recognize this villain as the legitimate head of my government. So I won’t be using the title of “President” with this villain’s name. Instead, I intend to practice Shakespearian insults to get the bad taste out of my mouth on this horrible day resulting from the malfeasance of certain bad actors, a concerted effort to suppress the vote in key States like Florida, an inebriated campaign run by a dissolute, dissembling mountebank with a talent for misdirection, and a very unfortunate ill-timed collective brain fart on the part of masses of angry but somewhat intellectually limited white people. (No, I am not worried that they will get me for that last one. They don’t know what most of the words mean, and none of them would take the time to read this far through this post.)
The conflagration of Trumpkin Trolls on the internet have been telling me that they have endured eight years of Obama, and now I should just shut up and endure eight years of the Great Orange Face. But, swaggering lackwits, I say thee nay! This will not be an eight year reign. It will either be a zero-year tragedy extravaganza or a permanent reign until the bedeviled Fenris Wolf consumes poor over-wrought Thor on the terrible day know as Ragnarok. The spoiled bag of figgy pudding that is our new leader and golden king will have a lot to answer to St. Peter for. Um, or is that Mephistopheles?
I intend to hold the vicarious viscount of villainy accountable with my words and wit, meager as they may be. And I will decry everything he and the harpy DeVos will do to my beloved system of public education. I will probably also expire from the villainy of the wretched Republican pizzle drinkers who are busy disemboweling the health care system that has so recently kept me alive, but I will continue to testify to their perfidy until my last breath expires.
So, I guess I can bring an end to this venomous epistle satisfied that I have lectured ass-headed Bottom about having a donkey’s head on his shoulders in the most roundly Shakespearean way I could wrangle. Shakespeare, if he gave us anything of value, gave us to understand the true power of words. And it is by the application of powerful and true words we must battle this sanguine, self-satisfied snollygoster who can barely read and is crippled with a dysfunctional slow-working pate which he more often sits on than uses to think with.
Lie la Lie
I suppose it is ironic that on Thanksgiving Day I am posting about lies. After all, I really am thankful for the lies in some very specific ways. Paul Simon’s song is the reason for the odd title and underscores the feeling I am trying to explain;
Yes, I am grateful that most of what the orange-faced man has said on the campaign trail has turned out to be lies. I thank the Lord that the great ball of cantaloupe-colored mouth-flatulence has indicated he might not actually pull out of the Paris Accords on climate change. That little item being a lie may save our entire planet and all life on Earth. I thank the Lord that the orangutan president has had second thoughts about prosecuting Hillary Clinton for crimes she didn’t actually commit.
I thank the Lord that the goal of repealing Obamacare is just a lie. My diabetes is grateful too. King Donald, seen in the photo above pitching snake oil and bananas to an innocent member of the American public, has strongly indicated he will keep all the good parts of Obamacare… and will basically just change the name to Trumpacare. Of course, he will be preserving high premiums and profits for the insurance industry as well.
I have a strong suspicion the wall is just a lie as well. In fact, the nature of President Cinnamon Hitler is such that if he is trying to keep alien secrets about Area 51 with the same talent for keeping secrets he displayed on the bus video and in his formation of a cabinet in his administrative transition, we may soon know the complete truth about Roswell.
But I’m sure you realize by now that all this is in the manner of lies and jests. In reality I am Paul Simon’s boxer;
Yes, I am beaten down by life. I have been lied to. I have been tricked. And if I only could, I would give that monkey such a punch! But we are all the boxer, all scarred. And we all together vastly outnumber the monkey’s minions. I may not live to see it, but it will always be a possibility, for as long as the fighter still remains. And I am thankful for that.
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Filed under aliens, angry rant, commentary, conspiracy theory, feeling sorry for myself, humor, lying, memes, politics, telling lies
Tagged as Donald Trump, lies, Obamacare, politics