demented dipshit Donald Trump rambled his way through an insane speech

so much for being the humble avatar of unity

what the fuck was that?

all week long, Republicans had been promising that we were going to see a brand-new Donny Convict.

that old Donny, the divisive hate-monger? he’s gone. Donny’s a changed man, they said. getting the tippy-tip of his ear nicked has caused him to reevaluate his entire life, they assured us. he’s now humble and humane. thoughtful and reflective. he’s ripped up his old speech and written a whole new one. he’s a uniter now, we were told. Donny’s gonna unite the shit out of America. you’ll see.

sorry, Republicans. the convicted felon and adjudicated rapist who took the stage last night was the same old divisive asshole he’s always been, whining about all the same old grudges and grievances, while lying his big dumb pumpkin face off about every fucking thing.

he just talked slower, that’s all.

how batshit was the speech? so batshit that even The New York Times couldn’t spin it.

Donny started out normally enough, with a recounting of how the tippy-tip of his ear got grazed — and he finally acknowledged the death of Corey Comperatore, the MAGA devotee who had the misfortune of standing behind Donny when the shooting started.

it was a sorta kinda almost-heartfelt moment — except for the part where ‘Comperatore’ was spelled wrong.

pro tip: if you’re going use a dead guy as a political prop, at least have the decency to spell his name right.

hey, can anyone translate this into English?

“…sending his helmet, his outfit, and uh, it was just something, and they’re going to do something very special when they get it, but we did something that can not match what happened.”

cool story, bro. everybody’s doing something, that’s for sure.

hey homeslice, how’s the uniting going?

“crazy Nancy Pelosi, the whole thing, just boom boom boom.”

oh yeah, I can feel the whole country coming together in one kumbaya love-fest.

speaking of countries, does Donny even know what country he’s in?

“we will have our next Republican convention in Venezuela.”

what’s with Donny’s monotone delivery? he droned on like this for almost two hours. was he drugged? was he high on painkillers for his ear-scratch? did they give him doggy trancs to make him the new, ‘humane’ Donny?

get ready for a very racist math lesson.

“by the way, you know who’s taking the jobs, the jobs that are created? one hundred and seven percent of those jobs are taken by illegal aliens. and you know who’s being hurt the most by millions of people pouring into our country? the black population and the hispanic population.”

holy shit, millions of migrants are taking one hundred and seven percent of all jobs! and on top of that, all the black and hispanic jobs, too. that’s like a million percent of all jobs — at least I think it is. math is hard.

could Donny get through a single speech without mentioning his favorite serial killer? no ma’am, he could fucking not.

“they’re coming from prisons, they’re coming from jails, they’re coming from mental institutions and insane asylums. you know, the press is always on me ’cause I say this. has anyone seen Silence of the Lambs? the late, great Hannibal Lecter. he’d love to have you for dinner.”

you’ll be shocked to hear this, I know, but Donny is hallucinating. there is exactly zero evidence that any country to our south is emptying its prisons and institutions and handing everyone a one-way ticket to America. there is also zero evidence that Hannibal Lecter is late or great — or even a real person — but try explaining that to Donny.

now get ready for some more racism.

“but I don’t even mention it, frankly, because of what happened with the China virus.”

in case you’ve forgotten what happened with the ahem “China” virus, Donny tried to golf his way through a pandemic, and when that didn’t work, he promised that one day it would disappear “like a miracle.” when that didn’t work, he told us all to inject bleach and guzzle horse goo.

it’s a wonder that only a million people died under Donny’s skillful stewardship through the crisis of the ahem “China” virus.

Donny really misses not being able to hang out with his old pals.

“now, North Korea’s acting up again. when we get back, I get along with him. he’d like to see me back, too. I think he misses me.”

Kim Jong-un misses Donny — now that’s a ringing endorsement.

Donny sure loves hanging with his despot snugglebunnies — Putin, Erdogan, Orban, the whole lot of them — but his greatest affection is for Kim. it’s super fucking creepy. that clownishly-oversized “love letter” that Kim sent Donny, that was among all the classified documents that Donny stole when he left the White House.

Donny also misses hanging out with the Taliban — because he thought they were flattering him.

“and he said, ‘I understand, your excellency.’ he called me ‘your excellency.’ I wonder if he calls the other guy ‘your excellency,’”

yes, numb-nuts, they call everybody “excellency.” it’s their diplomatic protocol.

Donny’s such a narcissistic old fool that in his mind, the Taliban thought he was excellent.

hey, remember when Donny wanted to invite the Taliban to Camp David for a terrorist sleepover on July 4th? after John Bolton told Donny that it was the stupidest fucking idea he’d ever heard, Donny fired him via a tweet.

yes please, let’s put Donny back in office and return to those super-sane days of diplomacy via teenage crush. I miss them, don’t you?

by the end of the almost-two-hour-long speech, Donny was a sweaty, rambling shambles who could barely read off the teleprompter without accidentally skipping whole passages.

“AI needs tremendous — literally twice the electricity that’s available now in our country, can you imagine. but instead we’re spending places where they recharge electric cars.”

when you’ve lost Nate Silver …

Republicans, can we talk? your guy has totally lost it. the family of feral raccoons that live inside Donny’s head have finally chewed through all the wires. he’s wandering, dazed and confused, through an ever-thickening fog of dementia and untreated tertiary syphilis.

talk to your candidate. convince him at long last to do what’s right.

it’s time for Donald Trump to drop out of the race — for the good of his country.