I don’t think I’ve ever used the term “bafflement” before, but I am now in a total state of bafflement. I can usually use reason and objective thinking to figure things out, but on this one I am stumped. I can’t seem to be able to think of one single fraction of a reason why anyone claiming to be a member of the human race could possibly think that it would be a good idea for Donald Trump to be the next president of the United States. Is there some kind of Kool-Aid out there that I don’t know about? Have we sunken this low? Is everyone smoking crack? Is this an alien invasion in disguise? Is this an ISIS plot?
Now the next time I travel to another country, I am going to have to tell people again that I am from Canada, so I don’t suffer the shame and humiliation of their knowing I am from a country where this repugnant, nouveau riche cartoon character is leading the polls in his party for the upcoming presidential election.
I don’t know who or what is worse: Trump, his supporters, or the sad state of the Republican Party, if this is the best they have to offer. I never thought these words would cross my mind in any way, shape, or fashion, but I sincerely think I’d rather see Sarah Palin in the White House than Donald Trump. Or Charles Manson. Or — God forbid — someone who is almost as frightening as Trump is: Marie Osmond. She scares the crap out of me on those weight-loss commercials, with the way she points into the camera when trying make a point. Come to think of it, she and Trump maybe have a lot in common. They’re both monsters.
Trump is the sleaziest, worst kind of opportunist, because all he really wants is attention. I don’t think he even wants the job of POTUS at all. He just wants people to pay attention to him. Thus, the hair. I know, I know. It’s an easy target that has been maligned for decades. But if he weren’t just out in the limelight to get attention he would do something to correct that magic carpet ride. After all — and he has said this on camera about two million times in the past week — he IS worth $10 billion. I think he can afford a stylist, but then that would take away from his shtick. And he is nothing but shtick. NOTHING. Other than hateful, racist, laughable comments about immigrants, I haven’t heard him say anything other than his gag-a-maggot claims of how rich he is. But then, I turn away in horror every time I see him on the television screen, so I might be missing something. Anyway, he’s a delusional creep, and it’s a shame even I am paying this much attention to him. Trump, be gone before one of your tacky skyscrapers falls on you.
So I’m going to turn my attention elsewhere and get down on my knees and thank Barack Obama for being the first sitting president to visit a federal prison. How in the hell it took so long for this to happen is anybody’s guess. But at least he did it, and at least he is going to try to do something about the crooked, for-profit, privately owned prison system in this country, where thousands and thousands of people are living like animals because they happened to have been caught with weed or pain pills on them. Oh, how violent and scary they are.
I can’t wait to see what else Obama does during this last period of his presidency. If I were him, I would go nuts. Now that gay marriage is finally legal across the country and he doesn’t have that to worry about, I would start enacting laws that replaced nonviolent drug offenders in the prisons with people who place unwanted telecommunication and scam calls to innocent people’s cell phones.
My phone is like a slot machine some days, with all the dinging from any number of bullshit calls. The other day I got one, and it was a recording from a robot voice telling me this was my final notice and that the IRS was filing a lawsuit against me. Right. I was so skeert. Like the IRS is going to leave an automated message on my cell phone voice mail, and like I make enough money for them to care about anything in my tax return.
So I tried to call back to play a little game. A woman did answer saying, “Hello, Internal Revenue Service,” in an unamerikan accent, and I could actually hear a television and a kid crying in the background. I called back from a landline, and when I tried to lay into her, she hung up. So I tried calling back from my cell phone numerous times but kept getting a fast busy signal and finally a number-disconnected message. Damn! I was all ready to play into her hand and fall for it before I told her my bank’s pin number was 666 and that I was Satan and was on my way to eat her children. But alas, no luck. Does anyone have a number for Donald Trump they can share with me?