If there’s any muscle at all left on Donald Trump’s rickety Pocky Stick skeleton, it’s only because the inexorable atrophying of his necrotic torso is occasionally forestalled by his exercise regimen, which consists almost entirely of languorous spurts of golf cheating and the vigorous bum’s-rushing of former compadres under the bus.

The number of former “friends,” business associates, campaign workers, and high-ranking Trump administration officials Donald Trump has either never met or barely knew could fill dozens of morgues — if they weren’t already brimming with bodies thanks to his corona-incompetence. 



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I’m not sure what’s worse — Donald Trump not knowing his own (acting) naval secretary or Donald Trump being so averse to bad news that he continually tells these kinds of risible, demonstrable lies.

Modly, of course, resigned his post two days ago after calling Capt. Brett Crozier “stupid” for writing a letter, which later leaked to the press, about a COVID-19 outbreak on the U.S.S. Theodore Roosevelt.

I look forward to the day Donald Trump, after his third divorce, says he didn’t really know Melania all that well. For once I’d be inclined to believe him.

Is Trump still chafing your arse-cheeks? Then Dear Fcking Lunatic: 101 Obscenely Rude Letters to Donald Trump and its boffo sequels Dear Prsident A**clown: 101 More Rude Letters to Donald Trump and Dear F*cking Moron: 101 More Letters to Donald Trump by Aldous J. Pennyfarthing are the pick-me-up you need! Reviewers have called these books “hysterically funny,” “cathartic,” and “laugh-out-loud” comic relief. And they’re way, way cheaper than therapy.

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