elderly golfer is fucking losing it

and oh, look! another “assassination attempt”

Very Special Boys don’t come Very Specialer than Donny Convict.

he was born into obscene wealth and handed a four-hundred-million dollar fortune that he was allowed to squander, without consequence. he started business after business, and every single one of them went tits-up — but so what? his Klansman father — or a Russian mobster — was always there to bail him out.

did you know that Donny’s daddy once walked into one of his son’s failing casinos, bought over three million dollars worth of chips, and walked out without using them — effectively handing Donny an illegal multi-million-dollar gift. father-of-the-year stuff, right? when Donny got caught, he was allowed to keep the millions — and was fined a pittance of thirty thousand dollars.

the producers of The Apprentice took this bungling chucklefuck and made a tv star out of him, hoodwinking a nation of gullible marks into believing that a serial failure was the smartest businessman on the planet.

after a lifetime of failing upwards and ever-upwards, Donny finally fell ass-backwards into the United States Presidency, where his hand-picked lackeys on the Supreme Court ruled that he could crime forever.

Donny now lives in a gold-plated golf motel. his criminal cases are pretty much stalled, the media sanewashes his increasing craziness, and his adoring cultists continue to underwrite his lavish lifestyle.

Donny has every reason to be the happiest person on the planet. if you or I had this incredible run of luck, we’d be doing handsprings all day long, am I right?

but Donny’s not happy. he’s a grudge-fueled rageaholic. he can’t enjoy one thing about his soft, pampered life of unearned privilege — because he’s fucking broken inside, and incapable of any emotion besides hate.

Taylor Swift is everything Donny is not: talented, successful, young, attractive, healthy, self-made — and, most importantly, an actual billionaire.

Donnie desperately wanted Tay’s endorsement — but that was never going to happen. and so Donny’s been stewing in his own juices for a week now, ever since Tay endorsed Kamala immediately following the debate, inspiring over 400,000 of her fans to register to vote.

things came to a head Sunday morning. Donny was projectile-vomiting his usual torrent of batshit craziness onto his failing app — fawning memes, links to sketchy polls, worshipful fan art, calls for his enemies to be jailed, yadda yadda — when out came this beaut.

way to grow your base, Brainiac. and they say women are too emotional to be president.

you have to love this response from Swifties for Kamala.

“who the fuck is this guy?”

things have not been going Donny’s way lately, and yesterday was shaping up to be a five-alarm disaster.

there was that smug, self-satisfied prick, Couchfuck McGee, admitting on live tv that he’s been lying his unpleasant face off about Haitian migrants.

JD: “if I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do, Dana.”
Dana Bash: “you just said that you’re creating the story.”
JD: [seven seconds of uncomfortable silence as JD realizes he just shit all over himself]
Dana Bash: “sir, you just said that you’re creating the story.”
JD: “what’s that, Dana?”

have you noticed that when JD gets his dick stapled to the wall by a reporter, his go-to move is to pretend he’s suddenly gone deaf? he did it two weeks ago, when John Berman asked him to explain Donny’s flippity-flop on Florida’s abortion ban.

Berman: “it was a grammar thing? it was a speech thing? it was somehow confusion in the words that he chose?”
Vance: [stares blankly at the camera for six entire seconds]
Berman: “Senator Vance, can you hear me?”
Vance: [points to his ear] “super staticky.”

nice try, but we’re wise to your tricks, Couchfuck.

meanwhile, Donny’s new side-piece, Laura Loopy, continue to be a huge fucking embarrassment and a complete piece of shit.

“I know that Kamala Harris sucked dick to get where she is today… I ain’t like her, okay. I don’t suck dick to get to the top.”

ugh.

Team Trump (and a few GOP senators) are desperately trying to keep Laura Loon far away from Donny — as well they should. but let’s hope that Donny does that nobody tells ME what do to thing he’s so good at, and keeps her around — because she’s toxic as fuck and does Donny no favors in the eye of the electorate by draping herself all over him.

so yup, the day was shaping up to be one flaming disaster after another for Donny.

and so of course, because we live in the stupidest timeline, Sunday afternoon we get an another “assassination attempt” — and bingo! just like that, every other story disappears from the media.

here’s what we know so far: some rando with an assault weapon was spotted hanging around Donny’s Palm Beach golf course. Secret Service agents fired at this moron, causing him to drop his weapon and his backpack, and run like hell — straight into the path of the Palm Beach Sheriff, who arrested the shit out of him.

of course Donny’s toadies are milking this for all it’s worth.

"President Trump is safe following gunshots in his vicinity," Steven Cheung, Trump campaign communications director, said in a brief initial statement. 

oh, please. Donny was never in danger. the “gunshots in his vicinity” were being fired away from him, and towards the gun-toting fuckface.

here’s what we know about the alleged assassin: he’s a white Republican named Ryan Routh who voted for Trump in 2016 but is now apparently on Team Vivek.

so, just another nutcase with a grievance and a gun and a misplaced sense of “justice” — just another day in gun-happy Florida. here’s a fun fact: Donny’s Palm Beach golf hovel is right across the street from something called the Gun Club Estates.

so, how did this dipshit know that Donny was going to be golfing yesterday afternoon? yes, I know, “because it was a day ending in y” is the obvious joke answer, but seriously — how did Ryan Routh know? was it a lucky guess?

naturally, it only took about half an hour before Team Trump was fundraising off of it — because having no fucking shame is Donny’s business model.

“MY RESOLVE IS STRONGER AFTER ANOTHER ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE.”

get over yourself, asshole.

fuck these shitwads who imagine that God is protecting Donny.

weird how God is always protecting Dear Leader, but never protecting schoolchildren. weird how God bent the path of that bullet in Butler, PA so that it missed Donny and instead exploded the head of the guy standing behind him.

have I mentioned lately that the Libertarian Party can go fuck themselves?

the Libertarians got cold feet and deleted their tweet, but not before whining about it.

oh boo fucking hoo, you self-entitled assholes. “the most oppressed minority,” my ass. try being a Haitian migrant in Springfield for half an hour, and then get back to us about being “oppressed.”

I don’t think the Libertarians were ever in danger of repercussions from not-Twitter management for that tweet, because check out the fuckery that the Space Nazi was up to.

what in the actual fuck? if you or I posted drek like this, we could expect a loud knock on the door from the Secret Service, post haste. how much you want to bet that nothing happens to the Space Nazi?

for fuck’s sake, this guy is a government contractor with a top security clearance.

I realize that the Biden Administration can’t just tear up their contracts with SpaceX because, y’know, there are stranded astronauts right now, with no other way to get home, but I hope NASA is quietly working behind the scenes to dump this guy and replace him with a contractor who doesn’t quote-unquote “joke” about assassinations.

the Space Nazi deleted his tweet because evidently it was a “joke” — and we micro-brains couldn’t grasp its “context.”

fuck off, Sink Boy. weird how none of your jokes are funny.

so now, Donny gets to do another sympathy tour — and this time, he doesn’t even have to wear a clownishly-oversized maxi-pad duct-taped to the side of his head, and there are no body parts that need to magically regenerate themselves.

and the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled media will be only too happy to play along.