President Trump…fresh off the long-awaited conclusion of the strength-sapping and corruptly conceived Russian Collusion investigation, starring Bob Mueller…no Collusion, no Obstruction, zippo…celebrated last week with a raucous rally in Michigan with 15,000 of his closest friends.
Not to mention the 20,000 poor bastards that couldn’t get in.
Like King Kong busting out of his shackles…It’s The Donald…UNLEASHED!
HIDE THE CHILDREN!
He dropped the “BS” word in its full and utter glory.
He officially anointed California Congressman, part-time Russian conspiracy theorist, and full-time Trump-Hating Douche-Bag, Adam Schiff, as “Pencil Neck.”
I swear, Trump majored in Business and minored in nicknames.
On the one hand, the favorable end of the Mueller investigation jacked-up his swagger.
On the other hand…how can you even tell?
Gotta love the so-called “experts.” Genius political pundits on both sides of the aisle seem to think that Trump should take no victory laps here, and be…ya know…contrite and humble.
CONTRITE AND HUMBLE!? ABOUT F*CKING WHAT!?!?
I’m sorry, but these subversive numb nut liars…the ones who sung in unison like Gladys Knight’s Pips for the past two years that Trump was a traitor to his country, and an agent of Russia…ought to get nothing less than the properly redacted Mueller report delivered to them via an enthusiastically administered enema…sans lubricant.
But trust me…THAT physical discomfort would pale in comparison to the emotional pain of Professor Mueller’s No Collusion thesis.
To suggest Trump lay low on this thing is all the more outrageous, given the FISA court abuses by Obama’s FBI and DOJ, and proven collusion with Russia by the Hillary campaign in concocting the dirty dossier.
THAT house of cards is crashing to the ground as we speak.
Michael Goodwin of the New York Post agrees. He writes…
“Trump is an innocent man who was outrageously framed by political enemies, including some in the Obama White House, the FBI and the Justice Department. Instead of begging forgiveness, he is entitled to feel just as Bill Clinton did after his many brushes with political death, that “whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger”…Democrats and the media tried to kill Trump, and because they failed, he is in a stronger position than ever…Not that he was a shrinking violet, but as a result we can expect to see an even more dominating, freewheeling Trump.”
Call me crazy…and plenty do…but shouldn’t REAL Americans be celebrating the fact that our President isn’t ACTUALLY a traitor and an agent of a foreign adversary?
Instead, the leg-wetting Lefty’s are trashing Mueller…their so-called “gold standard”…and Attorney General Bill Barr, and refuse to accept their findings like a whiny little snot nose rug rat who won’t eat his broccoli…with apologies to Bush 41, of course.
Sadly, pathetically, and embarrassingly, the deniers in Congress and the media will be on their knees giving this issue mouth-to-mouth until Election Day in 2020.
Tragically though, for the self-awareness challenged nitwits on the Left…the patient has already flatlined.
And when they once again get their sorry Socialist asses handed to them by The Donald in 2020, there won’t be enough Lithium in the Milky Way to transport these nutbags back to Planet Sanity.
And Now For Something Completely Different…
The older folks will get that Monty Python reference.
Anyway…We here at The Drunken Republican fancy ourselves as quite the versatile bunch, and as such, feel well equipped to venture out of our comfort zone to opine on non-political subjects when the mood strikes us.
And in that spirit, I have two words…Yoga Pants. It seems half of the women you see running around in public these days are wearing yoga pants.
Let’s see…how shall I put this? Hmmm…
Well…some are utter works of art, like a Picasso. Others, sadly like a cringeworthy fluorescent velvet portrait of Elvis you bought for three bucks at the local flea market.
It’s quite the dichotomy.
Oh, stop pretending you don’t know EXACTLY what I’m talking about…I’m trying to be delicate here.
The journey from pleasantly mesmerized to nauseatingly disgusted in no more than the time it takes for a light to turn green, and the jerk-off behind you to lean on his horn.
Just a quick observation on a cultural phenomenon that HAD to be confronted.
My vow to you? To never broach this subject again.