I happen to believe that if you send money to Donald Trump you pretty much get what you deserve. If people still haven’t learned from Trump University, Trump Steaks, Trump Vodka, Trump Hotels and Casino Resorts, Trump Magazine, Trump Airlines, Trump: The Game, and Trump: The Shitty Presidency, then they’ll never learn anything.

The only way I’d feel good about sending money to anything remotely Trump-related is if the EPA declared his quaggy, purpling corpse a Superfund site, in which case I’d be happy to chip in for transport to the Yucca Mountain Nuclear Waste Repository. Buy me a Pepsi and a jumbo bag of Corn Nuts and I’ll even drive him there—though, to be fair, I’d prefer to drive the escort vehicle with the “wide load” sign on the back. Just seems easier.

But, hey, as we saw on Jan. 6, there are plenty of benighted, dead-ender Trumpies willing to keep his grift alive for several more years, even though he keeps doing shit like this.

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