On a School Night

My heart goes out to the Trump family.  Those poor people.  The subject of numerous Witch hunts, Indictments falling like autumn leaves around them, political opponents wanting to lock them up, former cronies plea bargaining to testify against them, and rude fat men in gaudy clothes trampling on their dear departed mother’s grave in golf spikes, screaming “Fore” instead of “Four more years.”  How much more does this family have to endure? 

Now the mean old New York Attorney General, Letitia James, wants to put Donald’s children on the stand to testify against him.  Donald Jr, the eldest at 540 months old, will be expected to know Generally Accepted Accounting Practices, a subject that was never brought up in the Trump household.  Cooking the Books was the job of incredibly well-paid fully trusted accountants, who didn’t realize that they were expendable and would be thrown under the bus at the first sign of trouble.  Ivanka, the baby of the group, at just 468 months old, is immune from prosecution due to the statute of limitations running out, but she will still have to somehow explain to her husband Jared that he is going to have to babysit their baby mama children while she goes to New York for the trial.  Eric, the 516-month middle child will be tested to see if he can walk and chew gum at the same time.  Otherwise, Judge Engoron may remove him to a foster home.

At the same time, Georgia District Attorney Fanni Willis wants to put The Bronze Bomber in jail for tinkering with the Presidential election there.  “Is it a crime to go looking for 11,780 votes in a closet somewhere in Georgia Secretary of State Raffensperger’s office?” said Trump.  “I’ve got way better stuff I keep in boxes in the bathroom at Mar a Lago.”  “I’m willing to trade nuclear secrets for 11,780 votes.  I asked Rudy Guiliani to help me on that one, but he had a melt down – literally.”

Then to make matters worse, poor Donald wound up with Jack Smith as a Special Prosecutor in his Insurrection trial.  This particular Mr. Smith didn’t leave his job prosecuting war criminals to go to Washington to just talk, talk, talk.  He’s not too fond of Trump talking either, and he keeps requesting gag orders against the Strawberry-blond bombshell.

Then Trump lost a rape case to Jean Carroll, and porn queen Stormy Daniels is defying a non-disclosure agreement to tell everyone that the Donald’s penis looks like a tiny little mushroom.    Now, political cartoonists draw his hands even smaller than they used to.  At least the Donald still has Melania right there at his side, just a few thousand miles away.  She says that she will stay loyal to her husband, because she doesn’t want to end up buried in a sand trap on a golf course like Ivana.

The Donald doesn’t have much going for him legally these days, but he is making a fortune on merchandise.  Red MAGA hats were his big sellers, but now Mug Shot Mania has taken over and Mug Shot shot glasses are lined up in right-wing bars across the Red States.  Unfortunately, the Conservative Evangelicals who support him are not allowed to be caught drinking in public, but they do have the collectors item glasses in their home bars hidden in the basement.

One glimmer of hope remains for our poor tortured hero.  The Republicans in the House of Representatives elected Mike Johnson as speaker.  He wants to replace the Constitution with the Bible, and there’s nothing in the Bible about punishing a man for just looking for 11,780 votes or cheating on his taxes, as long as he’s not a homosexual, a drag queen, or providing Johnson’s son Jack with porn.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl