I’ll tell you what kind of duck. A lame duck — who is hemorrhaging influence and political capital by the day. (Okay, so he’s not technically a lame duck by the standard political definition, but he’s decidedly à l’orange, and no one is lamer.)
So you’d think if you were banned from a universally respected American hero’s funeral because no one wanted you there, you’d take a moment to reflect on your unique brand of odiousness and maybe just power down your tweeter machine for the long weekend.
But Donald Trump can’t help himself. If he rests for even a minute, people might find themselves repulsed by a soiled diaper or a moldering possum they found in their laundry hamper, thereby briefly dedicating their vomit reflex to something other than him.
He can’t have that. So yesterday afternoon, following John McCain’s funeral, Trump tweeted this:
You might recognize that catchphrase. It’s on millions of hats hiding millions of lobotomy scars on millions of spongy heads across our great nation.
And what prompted him to tweet it?
Well, this, of course:
Trump supporters’ standard excuse for their oafish ocher overlord’s Twitter tirades is that he’s a counterpuncher. Well, yesterday he punched a woman who just lost her father.
To quote our pr*sident, “What kind of man is this?”
Yo! Dear F*cking Lunatic: 101 Obscenely Rude Letters to Donald Trump by Aldous J. Pennyfarthing is now available at Amazon! Buy there (or at one of the other fine online retailers carrying it), or be square.