August 29, 2024: Fascination with Crowd Size, Shit Attracts Flies. He is Dickless

 

 “And what is this fascination with crowd size?”, President Obama asked at the Democratic National Convention to roaring laughter as he brought his hands together as if he were staring down at an ever disappearing penis. Indeed, what is it with Caesar Disgustus and crowd size?

We have noticed this at least since the first presser held at the White House launching his maladministration back in 2017. He's always bragging, especially about the size of the crowds he attracts. Nobody attracts bigger crowds, not Obama, nor Hillary, nor Martin Luther King, nor Biden, especially now not Harris. Disgustus is king of them all attracting crowds as shit attracts flies, Disgustus is the greatest among all men, just ask him.

It is, of course, grandiose delusion which, combined with an attenuated sense of persecution, composes textbook paranoia. The man is not only a malignant narcissist but is deeply paranoid. Disgustus is mentally ill and cannot ever again be allowed anywhere near the Oval Office nor the nuclear code.

Psychologists Gartner and Segal have hinted, more than casually, that this fascination with crowd size betrays a form of penis envy, with crowd size replacing the 19^th century fascination with locomotives and the peculiarly American fascination with guns as phallic symbols substituting for penises among the tragically less endowed. And, given the testimony of Stormy Daniels, who knows something about well endowed men, tRUMP is “small, but not freakishly small”. It appears even Harris is more endowed than the pathetic excuse for a man that now heads the ReSCUMlickan Party. In the immortal words of Bill Murray's character in “Ghost Busters”, “ he is dickless”. Senator Marco Rubio may well have nailed it. It explains his tiny hands. Perhaps this explains as well his lifelong consistent cowardice, his need to denigrate the brave and the fallen, and his constant sense of victimization. He is a tiresomely pathetic little 'man'; a hopelessly boorish braggart with nothing about which to brag.

It's all projection and confession with Disgustus. Occasionally, nearly always inadvertently or by mistake, the truth slips out. Keep you diaper on Donald and stay out of the locker room lest the truth be discovered and suspicions be verified.

Imprison the Bastard.