Trump May Destroy World ‘At Any Time’ (2017Oct13)


Friday, October 13, 2017                                         5:11 PM

Trump May Destroy World ‘At Any Time’   (2017Oct13)

When we hear our Fearless Flatulence announce that he disagrees with a global agreement on Global Warming, he contradicts the whole world—and all the hard-working Americans who helped bring the world together for the agreement. Years, decades for some, of effort—thrown away on a whim by the Mighty Fart of Freedom—and with it, probably, our best hope of leaving a livable world for our youngsters.

When the Spammer-in-Chief decides something is wrong—like ‘everything Obama ever did’—you can trust him to destroy it—even if the Republicans scruple over screwing millions of Americans out of healthcare. If he has to ignore the law and withhold funds to make it all fall apart—well, he wasn’t a shady businessman all his life just to fall apart when he can malfease on a global scale. And who’s gonna stop him—the gutless Freedom Caucus? The moderate GOPs owned by lobbyists? I don’t think so—no sign of that, so far, certainly.

Trump isn’t happy unless he’s defying absolutely everybody. That’s why he’s so dead-set on destroying the Iran deal—it is such a stupid move that even his own administration, to a man, is screaming for him not to de-certify.

His ‘threat’ to trash the Iran Deal “at any time”—is really a boast. He’s not threatening Iran. He’s boasting to the whole world—that he, Trump, can do any fucking, numb-nuts, stupid-ass thing he wants to do.

He’s proud of his potential to flush the entire world (and especially America) right down the toilet—he’s got a sick-ass smirk on his face lately. It seems to say, “You want to ridicule me? Okay, how about I blow up the whole world, pal? I’m seventy—what do I care? We’ll see who’s laughing then.

Trump’s recent behavior reminds me of my freshman year at SUNY-Oswego. We were crammed in, three to a room, due to overcrowding—my roommates were Lance and Bob. Bob had a gun. He used to take it out and point it at my face. He was disappointed when I didn’t die of fright, even when he kept playing around with the gun and pointing it at me—so he finally shot a hole in my pillowcase, near my head. Some people don’t understand respect—they figure that fear is close enough—and become desperate to prove they are scary.

But, sorry, Trump—the worry and disgust we feel towards you is the exact opposite of respect. The swathe of destruction you’ve carved through Obama’s efforts of the previous eight years—that gains you the same respect we’d have for a little bully who kicks over his friend’s sand castles—that is, none at all.

And all you Trump Lemmings out there—let me clue you in—I don’t hate Trump because he won (I hate you for that, you traitors)—I hate Trump because he’s wrong. Trump is wrong about everything he says, everything he does, everything he thinks—he is a psychopath which you dear morons have given immense power—you might as well light up an M-80 and shove it up your ass. That’s exciting too—but you may not care for the ending.

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