Hey, I wasn’t the one to say it first in public. San Juan Mayor Carmen Yuliz Cruz said “I am done being politically correct. I am mad as hell. This is genocide.”
Meanwhile, Mass-Murdering Fuckhead Donald Trump tweeted back, “The Mayor of San Juan, who was very complimentary only a few days ago, has now been told by the Democrats that you must be nasty to Trump.”
Human suffering means nothing to him. Death and destruction mean nothing, no matter to whom they happen, but to brown and black people, he doubles down on not caring.
Donald Trump is going to go down in history as a Mass-Murdering Fuckhead, just like Adolf Hitler, although you can’t get anyone to believe that, quite yet, but wait, you’ll see what happens, and Donald’s name will be besmirched forever.
He doesn’t care how it happens, as long as he stays more famous than Obama, he could care less how history sees him, and as an advanced Altzheimer patient and paranoid-schizophrenic with delusions of poverty, he couldn’t give two shits, and he doesn’t.
The reason he’s totally shameless is that he really, really doesn’t care.
Nothing means anything to Donald Trump. He has no reality on anything around him, and very little reality even on his own self.
In short, he comes up short.
His elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. His bread is only half-baked. He’s one sandwich short of a picnic basket, darkness in a harbor of hope, not the brightest bulb in the box, a few screws short of a hardware store, about as sharp as a marble, only has one oar in the water, the gates are down and the lights are flashing, but there’s no train in sight, fell out of the Stupid Tree and hit every branch on the way down, an intellect unmatched by anything except a pile of garden tools, has an I.Q. of one, he deprived some village of an idiot, he forgot to pay his brain-bill, his belt doesn’t go through all the loops, his antenna doesn’t pick up any of the channels, all foam – no beer, missing a few buttons on his remote control, living proof that evolution can go in reverse, he has too much yardage between his goal posts, he’d lose a debate with a doorknob, he’s an interesting form of plant-life, he eats soup with a fork, the wheel is spinning, but the hamster’s dead, a shining example of the horrors of inbreeding, the cheese slid off his cracker, doesn’t have all his chairs on the table, he’d argue with a signpost and lose an argument with a rock, the hard drive is spinning, but there’s no operating system installed, the umbrella’s up, but there’s no rain, he’s a monosynaptic cretin, which it’s totally safe to call him, doesn’t know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt, is a poster-child for birth control, shot an arrow into the air and missed, couldn’t hit the floor if he fell on it, if you stand close enough to his mouth, you can hear the ocean, at the fountain of knowledge, instead of drinking, Trump gargled, he’s obviously ten cents short of a dollar, the elevator goes to the top, but the door doesn’t open, any slower intellectually and he’d have to be watered once a week, his lug nuts are rattling off the hubcaps, he’s lost contact with the Mother Ship, if brains were dynamite, he couldn’t blow his nose, his corn bread ain’t done in the middle, not all the dots are on his dice, you could have a more meaningful conversation with a brick wall, no car, but out of gas, he left the scene before he got there, his bats are out of the belfry, he couldn’t find his own ass with two hands and a roadmap, if he had a brain, he’d be on the floor playing with it, if he went any slower, he’d have to speed up to a stop, his fiddle’s not in tune, his dipstick doesn’t reach the oil, he’s a few feathers short of a rubber duck, he’s absorbent like a toilet sponge, his brother was an only child, his biscuits aren’t quite baked, he’s an open book, but the pages are blank, he has only one wheel in the quicksand, he’d change a tire in the fast lane, when he hit bottom, he kept on digging, so dense he bends light, he’s unarmed in a battle of wits, he comes from the shallow end of the gene pool, he’s one player short of a solitaire game, in the Great Evolutionary Experiment, Trump’s ancestors were the Control, he’s such a throwback that he gets nostalgia when he sees a cave painting, in the left side of his brain, there’s nothing right, and in the right side of his brain, there’s nothing left.
I tried to come up with something insulting about Donald Trump, the White Supremacist Racist bastard that is killing Puerto Ricans just because they can’t vote in the National Election, but I just couldn’t come up with anything insulting enough.
Trump will be held accountable on the Other Side, for every death he causes with his deliberate hold-back of aid to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. He wants them to die.
The best revenge is for every Puerto Rican to move immediately to Washington, D.C. or find an apartment somewhere near Trump Tower — that would drive him crazy, if he hadn’t already driven there and found a permanent parking space.
Trump’s total lack of empathy and total insensitivity — railing against the NFL because he felt they were disrespecting HIM, not the flag, not the Constitution — DONALD FUCKING TRUMP is always the issue, always the agenda, on his plate.
Everything is about him: “I’m not happy”.
Who cares, Donald? Nobody really likes you. Your support base is only with you because they think you agree with their hatreds and meanness, but you don’t agree with them — you’ll suck on any egg that gives you an omelette, won’t you?
Ridicule is the weapon of choice.
Don’t give in to the Dark Side. Ridicule is the Way to block Trump’s desire to force the Puerto Ricans to hold a referendum for independence, which is what he wants, no Puerto Rico to haunt him about the $20 MILLION DOLLARS that Trump stiffed the Puerto Ricans when he pulled out of a real estate deal, and that’s one of the few things out there that ISN’T fake news.
Okay, all of that having been said, what can we do?
How about selling chocolate as a way of raising money for Puerto Rico and Virgin Islands Relief? But be careful if you do decide to help them, because your name goes on Trump’s Shit List, along with anyone who shows pity, compassion, kindness and respect, four things with which Trump is totally unfamiliar.
I betcha he couldn’t decode the previous sentence without a graphic aid.
Donald Trump is asking every Amerikan to help him kill 3.2 million Americans!!! He wants YOU to help him — how?
By ignoring their desperate pleas for help, by agreeing with him that they’re not worth the money. Instead of focusing on human tragedy, he talks about how much money it’s gonna take, and whether it’s worth it or not.
What a creep, eh?
So — How about writing your own protest? How about sharing this blog? How about organizing a march or protest similar to what we had in Nevada City?
Every town should protest Trump’s Genocide intent against his fellow Amerikans in that non-white place out in the Middle of the Water, the Middle of the Ocean, that mysterious island of brown people, that place called “Puerto Rico” — oh, is it part of Amerika? Who knew?
Fuck, maybe it’s time some Amerikans knew that this country is bigger than they thought, and more diverse than they ever imagined.
White Amerikans are soon to get hit with the biggest shock of all, that of becoming a minority, which means that they’ll get treated badly this time — I can’t think of a people that deserves it more.
I’m a Jew, so I don’t count as White, which is why I’ve been turned down for restaurant reservations, hotel reservations and I’ve been turned away by any number of golf resorts when I said my last name.
Reminds me of the time I spent in Alabama and Mississippi, but Jim Crow is everywhere now, and it’s dangerous stuff, which is why you mustn’t give in to the Dark Side.
Ignore it.
I don’t expect you to actually DO anything about this, but I hope you do manage to pull yourself out of your complacency.
The experts will tell you that the majority of Amerikans are ignorant and apathetic. Me, I don’t know, and I don’t care.
You want Donald Trump to go away? Nothing could be simpler. Ignore him. I mean don’t let him get on television anymore. Shut your ears, turn away from him, don’t look at him, don’t listen to him — ignore him, plain & simple. He can’t stand being ignored. He wants his mommy. He wants his daddy. He wants a glass of water. He’s afraid. He’s afraid. He’s afraid.
See You At The Top!!!
gorby