Actually: time to go, would make it better! It’s really time to leave. Donald-Trumpoleon is getting OLD and SLEEPY. He TURNS 80 on June 14th. And it’s today yeeeaaaahh !
A few days before America turns its 250 years of independence on July 4th. The Old Lady Liberty has 250 years in spite of Mr NotMyPresident’s turpitudes*. And I hope civil rights will be restore after his eviction. As sure as two plus two makes… five.
I can’t wish an happy birthday to Mr NotMyPresident, but the shortest possible political life. If his term ended now, I wouldn’t mourn him. And it can end at any moment, he knows it.
Every day since he was re-elected by the morons of this country – the inhabitants of the square states in the middle of the country map – I pray to God that the Republicans loose the midterms. To stop ICE and its Gestapo methods, tariffs and the commercial decline they lead to, inflation on tomatoes, pedophiles protection like on Ghislaine Maxwell who know much more than she has say, warS in Gaza, Iran, Yemen, Irak, Syria, Somalia, Nigeria and Venezuela, disregard of the poors including American low incomes (« I love nflation » says he), disloyalty to his country by getting it on with Vladimir Vladimirovitch against my heroe, Volodymir Zelensky, to end greed and hate in general, all this foolishness.
Mr NotMyPresident could commit suicide – because ultimately, since the beginning of his term, nothing has gone as planned, and that’s very VERY depressing.. Or die of a heart attack. Or in a helicopter crash. But he could also retire right now, head held high (or almost… just joking!). Because in any case, the midterm elections are really going to cut his balls off, to make him a lame duck. He has caused enough misery in this world… And enough damage in American power. The International Criminal Court is ready to indict him, just like Netanyahu.
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* Ultimate Fighting arena at the White House : did a psychologist explain to Donald Trump that his obsession with brawny athletes, his way of squeezing his guest’s hand to say hello, the way he spreads his legs wide when he sits down (I can scratch my balls better, he says to justify himself): all these little things put together are irrefutable proof of his sexual impotence ? A need to prove that he « has » it (a huge penis and two big balls, the mojo). Or even of a fiercely repressed homosexual liking ? Only Melania knows…