Dear The Donald: You Might Want to Remove Obama’s Balls from your Chin before you try to Talk Again

In an utterly stunning turn of events, The Donald’s surprising streak of successful assholery came to a screeching halt this past weekend. Obama first drops the birth certificate on his ass. Which by the way, if you are a “Birther”, you should be taken out behind the tool shed and raped to death with an old 2×4. No sense in wasting a bullet on your retarded ass; those cost money. The Donald did a decent job of spinning this as doing a great turn for the American people, proving their president has the right to be president. Great job Toupee, because he hasn’t already been president for 2+ years. Then we fast-forward to Saturday night where Obama takes a giant Mexican food and Tequila dump right on The Donald’s Chevy Chase. Roasted that asshat into the Bronze Age. Less than 24 hours later Obama is giving the green light on icing the world’s #1 most wanted. Say what you will about this whole bin Laden affair, and I’ve said plenty. But you have to recognize the marbles it took for Obama to make this call. He could have dropped in a bunker bomb and obliterated everything close to Osama. But we would have never had the proof. So he goes with the summer action flick scenario with the Seals repelling in and shooting mutherfuckers at point blank. If that fails and Osama escapes, Barack is a GOAT. So what does The Donald do now? Hopefully shuts the fuck up. This asshole has never done anything in his life. He is a Trustafarian run amok. He took a huge inheritance and pissed it away as only a privileged assclown could. He gets by on arrogance and self-promotion. Unfortunately that is good enough in this era of bread and circus, but it doesn’t make him any less a human parasite. If I’m Obama I would complete this hat trick and go +1 by pulling off a menage-a-trois with The Donald’s wife and daughter. Obama is at that point where he is standing over The Donald as the The Toupee is in a death circle, and the Mortal Kombat announcer is yelling “FINISH HIM!”. Banging his wife and/or daughter would ensure this fuckstick can’t open his mouth in public ever again.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Dear The Donald: You Might Want to Remove Obama’s Balls from your Chin before you try to Talk Again

  1. Anonymous says:

    The last time I remember seeing someone dominated as thoroughly as Trump has been by Obama over the course of the past two weeks was when Robin Ventura had the stones to charge a 46 year old Nolan Ryan's mound, only be put in a headlock and receiving what is, in my mind, the all time best physical beating ever delivered in major league baseball.
    -JP

  2. ZSG says:

    Excellent analogy. Ryan bent him over the latrine, then pimped him out to the Mexicans in Cell Block 7 for Kools and chiles. My favorite part was that Ventura inexplicably tried to claim it was an even match after the game.

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