broken-inside piss-baby makes Memorial Day speech all about himself

just another batshit day in America

yesterday morning, the president of the United States woke up, picked up his phone, and tapped out a Memorial Day message of peace and love — and that message was WAAAAAH MY DIAPER IS FULL WHY WON’T ANYONE CHANGE MEEEEEEEE?

“Happy Memorial Day to all, including the Dumocrats, who disrespect our Military and all of the tremendous success that it has had over the last year. God Bless those that have made the ultimate sacrifice. I love you all! President DONALD J. TRUMP”

what a wildly inappropriate thing for any world leader to say on their country’s most solemn day of remembrance for their nation’s war dead. but that’s our Preznit Fuckwit. he’s a colicky piss-baby who is fundamentally incapable of ever rising up to meet the moment.

‘dumocrats,’ that’s Donny’s latest insult — and he’s super proud of it. it’s why he was prattling on the other day about how ‘most people don’t know dumb has a b in it.’ this dipshit is up late at night, cataloging his insults. it’s all so fucking infantile.

so, Democrats ‘disrespect the military’? that’s an odd accusation coming from the five-time draft dodger who quite famously called soldiers who died for their country ‘suckers and losers.’

oh, please. Mister Ouch My Bone Spurs doesn’t respect the military. he has no idea what that shit’s all about. nor does he have any conception of ‘the ultimate sacrifice.’

that why, if you stand him up at a podium and ask him to make a speech about Memorial Day, he turns it into kind of dick-measuring contest about which president had the best war, and got the fewest service members killed.

“in two wars recently we’ve lost a total of thirteen service— members, in Venezuela— which was a complete and total victory, where we’re working very closely with the Venezuelan government right now. we took that over in one day. lost no one. in Operation Epic Fury we lost thirteen wonderful souls. wonderful, special people.”

Donny wins! in your face, FDR! fuck you and your 400,000 WWII casualties. Donny did his war with only thirteen!

hold on, did Preznit Fuckwit just make what should have been a speech about fallen heroes all about himself? of course he did. he’s so proud of himself for only getting thirteen ‘wonderful special people’ killed (so far) during his unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran. he wants infinite praise. he wants a cookie.

fuck you, you ghoul. you don’t get a cookie.

someone should ask Donny to name even one of those thirteen wonderful special people who he sent to their unjustifiable deaths. you know he wouldn’t be able to. he doesn’t care. he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself — and he has no idea if any of the thirteen fallen were actually ‘wonderful’ or not.

‘wonderful’ is just one of those meaningless superlatives Donny love to stick in front of whatever noun happens to seep out of his rancid anus-mouth.

‘wonderful special people.’ ‘beautiful chocolate cake.’

it doesn’t matter what this callous fuck is yammering on about. it’s just cheap, gaudy salesmanship, and I’m so fucking tired of having it shoved in our faces every single goddamned day.

oh, and I’m not kidding about the beautiful chocolate cake. that’s what this psychopath bragged about chowing down on while bombing Syria back in 2017.

“I was sitting at the table, we had finished dinner,” Trump told Fox Business host Maria Bartiromo. “We’re now having dessert—and we had the most beautiful piece of chocolate cake that you’ve ever seen—and President Xi was enjoying it.”

Bartiromo then said it was “brilliant” that the missiles were “unmanned.”

“It’s so incredible. It’s brilliant,” Trump agreed.

wonderful people. beautiful cake. brilliant missiles.

perfectly normal stuff.

oh wait, Donny isn’t finished counting.

“the first service member laid to rest here— in this place of supreme sacrifice, was a UNION soldier by the name of Private Christ— man. Private William Henry— Christman, of— Pennsylvania who died is NINETEEN YEARS OLD. he was— a great young man, they say. beside him are more than 18,000 other young men named William. over 20,000 named John, over 13,000— named James— joined over time by ISAACS, Elijahs, Earls, Hanks, Helens, Juans— Margarets, Maruis, Donalds — not too many, heh heh heh.”

‘not too many, heh heh heh’? look at the shit-eating grin on this dumb-ass’s doughy face, as he apparently finds it super fucking hilarious that ‘not too many’ Donnys are interred at Arlington. way to remind everyone of your five Vietnam deferments, Commander Bone Spurs.

all I want is a president who isn’t a complete piece of shit. is that too much to ask? it’s only been twenty minutes and we already have to reset the ‘national embarrassment’ ticker back to zero. maybe we should just keep it there.

oh, and mere punctuation in my transcript can’t properly convey just how befuddled Donny is at the words he’s encountering for the first time, as he attempts to read them. he grips the podium for dear life, drifts off mid-sentence, has a halting cadence, SHOUTS random words — and he obviously hasn’t a clue how to pronounce ‘Christman.’

you would think this dilapidated dumbfuck might do himself a favor and read his speeches ahead of time, so he didn’t sound like a flummoxed moron — but forget about that ever happening. Donny’s too busy jamming beautiful chocolate cake down his gullet to prepare in advance.

---

now, I know what you’re going to ask next. ‘Uncle Jeff, did President Pudding Cup fall fast asleep as soon as someone else started talking?’

of course he did. the second his piss-drunk Secretary of Death started droning on about warfighters warfighting the warfightiest warfight ever, the narcoleptic old fart factory immediately closed his beady little pig-eyes and began filling Arlington National Cemetery with the pungent aroma of ass music.

here, we’d better gif that shit for posterity’s sake, before one of Donny’s minders starts screaming at us about how Dear Leader was just blinking.

Dear Leader is a mess. he can no longer stay awake during the day. he can’t walk a straight line. both of his hands are rotting away. his ankles resemble moldy eggplants, and his brain went fuckity-bye ages ago.

and that’s why this week, Preznit fuckwit goes to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center for his third ‘yearly’ checkup this in the last thirteen months.

just more perfectly normal stuff, am I right? I mean, who among us hasn’t had three ‘routine’ annual checkups in a little over a year.

will we ever get the truth about the state of Donny’s health? of course we won’t. that’s not how Donny’s minders roll.

instead, we’re going to get to hear about how the big, strong cognition doctors, all of them blubbering like babies, ran around high-fiving each other after Donny managed to point to the camel.

dumbest timeline ever, I fucking swear.

---

oh, is it already time for some Daily Claudia? spoiler alert: yes, it is.

here we are, flying from New York to Chicago in 2018.

have a great Tuesday, everyone. treat yourself to some beautiful chocolate cake. tell ’em Uncle Jeff says you’re entitled.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

---

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.