let’s talk about what a tacky little gold-obsessed toad Donny is
America’s sad little failure-in-chief
during Donny Convict’s first clownfuckingly inept reign of error, it was no secret that he considered the White House to be a “real dump.” he was constantly whining about it to his golf cronies.
of course, the White House isn’t a dump. it’s a very tasteful and elegant 18th century mansion. tasteful and elegant, however, can take a freakin’ hike, pal, as far as Donny’s concerned — because where the fuck is all the gold?
Donny imagines himself to be a king, and a king has to live in a palace, right? and what’s a palace without a fuckton of gold, as far as the eye can see?
look at this garish fucking nightmare.
this is the living room of Donny’s penthouse apartment in Trump Tower.
overcompensating much?
who the fuck would voluntarily live in such a gaudy eyesore? Donny, that’s who. he’s a fragile toad who must constantly prove to himself — and to everyone else — that he’s not the worthless loser his tyrant father always told him he was.
what better way to do that than by tarting up his home with so much golden crap that it looks less like a living space and more like a Las Vegas brothel?
fuck you, Dad. who’s the loser now?
it’s pathetic. Donny doesn’t need gold. he needs a good psychiatrist — one with infinite patience.
well, guess what: the guy who shits into a gold-plated toilet is bringing that brothel aesthetic to the White House.
check out this trailer-trash travesty. Donny is cheapening the Oval Office by cramming it full of tacky gold trinkets.
none of that gaudy crap was there when Joe Biden was president — or, in fact, when anyone else was president.
and Donny’s proud of it. here he is, showing it all off to Laura Ingraham.
“actually they’re gold, all gold. and you know the— it’s angels … did you know that— a little secret … throughout the years people have tried to come up with a gold paint that would look like gold. and they’ve never been able to do it. you’ve never been able— look at that look. you’ve never been able to match gold with gold paint. that’s why it’s gold.”
my god, who thinks about this shit? can you imagine all the contractors over the years who Donny has tormented because they couldn’t come up with the right color of gold paint? no, no, this isn’t right. it doesn’t look like gold. try again or you’re not getting paid.
Donny won’t be happy until he’s turned the White House into some cheesy Trump Tower-on-the-Potomac.
oh Jesus H. Fucking Christ, Donny’s gone and done it. he’s put the actual Declaration of Independence in the Oval Office.
about two weeks ago, there was an item in the press about how Donny wanted to get his freakishly undersized hands on the Declaration.
staffers freaked out over this — and, when last we heard, had apparently managed to talk Donny out of it.
To their relief, however, conversations have now moved to the prospect of moving a historical copy of the document instead of the original to the Oval Office.
but it looks like Donny won out in the end and got his way. he probably threatened to send everyone to Gitmo — because that’s how tyrants roll.
“but here’s what they like, more than anything. so this is the Declaration of Independence. and they ask that this be done. it’s never been done. it’s been in the vaults for many many decades. and they said, we have to do something like drapes because the light eventually affects it. and it’s very cool. isn’t that grand? it just went up yesterday. think Joe Biden would do this? I don’t think so. do you think he’d think of it? do you think he knows what it is?”
what a fragile little fuckstain. “think Joe Biden would do this?” of course Joe Biden wouldn’t do it. Joe Biden isn’t a totem-obsessed freak. know who else didn’t do it? Abe Lincoln. or John Kennedy. or any other president, ever.
and it’s just stunning how Donny has to compulsively lie about everything. no, the Declaration of Independence wasn’t hidden away in some “vault” for “many decades.” it was on display in the rotunda of the National Archives.
anyone who wanted to see the Declaration could have walked into the Archives and feasted their eyes on it. but not any more. now, only one Very Special Boy gets to see it: King Fuckface the First.
what a selfish little prick.
hey, speaking of selfish prickage — remember when Melania defiled Jackie Kennedy’s White House Rose Garden by turning it into a barren rectangle of lawn?
well, Donny’s gonna one-up his Slovenian trophy wife. he’s going pave over the rose lawn garden entirely, so it looks more like the patio of his rodent-infested Florida golf motel.
Trump plans to transform the garden into a patio-style seating area, much like the one at Mar-a-Lago, his private estate in Palm Beach, Fla.
seriously, Donny? how can you be this homesick for Motel-a-Lago? you’re down there cheating at golf every fucking weekend.
nonetheless, Donny’s proud of this tasteless abomination. too.
Laura Ingraham: “are you paving over the grass here?”
Donny: “what was happening is it was supposed to have events. every event you have, it’s soaking wet. it’s soaking wet, and people get— and the women with the high heels and it’s just too much. the grass just, it doesn’t work. we’ll have a gorgeous stone, everything else. but you know, we use it for press conferences, and it doesn’t work because the people fall into the, you know, into the wet.”
‘into the wet’ — my god, we cant have the women with the high heels falling into the wet. the horror!
so this is our micromanager-in-chief, obsessing over ‘gorgeous stone’ patios when he should be presidenting. we’re back to Donny the swatch-fondling dipshit, stroking fabric samples while his business empire crumbled around him.
but I have one question: if Donny’s goal is to remake the White House over as some tacky Motel-a-Lago North, when is the omelette bar going in?
here’s your hero of the day — and it’s not a person, but a thing.
bravo, indeed, to YouTube’s ‘play’ button.
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.
I got nuthin’. Might be time for some self care here. I despise him with every fiber of my being.
The Orange Fuckwit is hoping the Declaration fades so much, he’ll get to Sharpie new words in.