Caesar Disgustus presiding over our national birthday is
our national disgrace. For as long as he remains in the White House
the stench over everything, be it sacred or profane, will permeate
any proceeding. No observance is immune from the stench. Take
Easter, for instance. Disgustus observed the occasion by taking to
his Untruth Antisocial media platform threatening the destruction of
the entire Iranian civilization. An idle threat, it transpired, but
a predictably ugly manifestation of what occurs when a malignant
narcissist does not get his way.
Now it's the annualnational holiday in observance of our
Declaration of Independence. Our national birthday, as it were.
That this turd should once again be master of ceremonies is bad
enough, but we are now confronted with the celebration of our of
existence with the pall of Disgustus hanging over every proceeding.
Disgustus is the pole-cat lurking about every barn dance; but in the
last ten years he has crashed the door on at least two occasions
stinking up the place making every celebration,as he does virtually
everything else, about himself.
He walks off with sports trophies while the teams that
win them, incredulously, are left to look on. He whines about not
winning the 'Noble” Peace Prize and cajoles the real winner to give
up her medal and present it to him instead. He dreams of having his
profile join the greats at Mount Rushmore. Most notably he had his
name placed upon the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, making
himself the arbiter of culture. He has destroyed the White House and
dreams of a giant “Ark de Stench” transforming Washington into a
monument to himself. He brazenly places himself among the greatest
in the American Pantheon ignoring the consensus among historians and
politicologists that he is among the worst; many, on the basis of his
first maladministration, having declared him the absolute worst
president in the history of the United States. He is a legend in his
own mind.
His record of breathtaking incompetence is exceeded only
by the stench that precedes his every arrival.
The national birthday celebrations are just the latest
in a long litany of national embarrassments, be it any holiday
observance, any meeting with a foreign leader or dignitary, any
international conference or his annual fouling of the United Nations
General Assembly. Everywhere he goes the stench precedes him as
those gathered hold their noses as he speaks; for whatever he emits,
be it from his ass or his mouth, is the same substance accompanied by
the same foul odor. He feels no shame, no embarrassment, no
self-awareness as he stands proud and grandiose, beshit before the
world.
And his incompetence has proved as damaging as it is
breathtaking. The imbroglio over the Reflecting Pool and his
disastrous management of the great National Fair are simply the most
recent demonstrations of his gross incompetence. Laying his hands on
the Reflecting pool, located between the Lincoln Memorial and the
Washington Monument, he awarded a no-bid contract to a 'friend' who
allegedly did work on his swimming pools; disaster a foregone
conclusion. Work, originally estimated to cost between 1.5 and 2
million dollars ended up costing between 13 and 16 million. Then,
when the pool was re-filled an algae bloom appeared turning the water
into a stinking cesspool. Further the 'lining' touted by tRUMP to be
the best and most durable immediately began to buckle and come loose
from the bottom floating uselessly in the water. Disgustus, of
course, couldn't take responsibility. He never does. Instead he
blamed vandals with box knives cutting long gashes in the bottom of
the pool. No evidence was presented; none ever is.
Hell, I would have done it for half the price.
Then we have the Great National Fair. As part of the
250 year celebration of the Nation's founding, the National Fair was
scheduled to take place somewhere in middle America. Oklahoma or
Nebraska, perhaps Iowa. It was to be organized by the Smithsonian
Institute and be a celebration of the American Experience. Money was
appropriated by Congress to fund it. Then tRUMP came into office and
immediately put his hands on it.
All the plans were abolished. Disgustus created a new
body to manage affairs. The venue was moved to Washington D.C., to
be held on the Washington Mall. Disgustus would refashion the
occasion, as he does everything. The fairground was literally empty.
The heat was insufferable and there was no air conditioning. One
woman sought refuge in a booth run by a Jesus Junkie where one could
be baptized. Seeking neither salvation nor ablution she took to the
pool merely to find respite from the sweltering heat. The Mall was
lined with booths in which 43 of the50 states were represented, a
half dozen or so with enough sense of smell to steer clear. The
result was less than lackluster. Maine, for instance presented the
public with a booth featuring two chairs in front of a wall with the
word “MAINE” emblazoned overhead. Michigan, a bit more daring,
featured a plastic cow that the children were invited to “milk”.
The public greeted this spectacle with a collective yawn.
“Faux News” did its best to put lipstick on this pig
by broadcasting live from the fairgrounds with the hosts seated high
above showing a panoramic view of the grounds as backdrop. Rabbiting
endlessly about the massive crowds in attendance the viewer was
repeatedly implored to not believe one's lying eyes as the empty
grounds gave lie to what we were being told was transpiring on the
field. Of the nearly two weeks of news clips, I remember seeing the
Ferris Wheel move once.
The “Grand Finale”, the Coup de Grace, came
as a speech by our shitting 'president' which turned out to be
nothing more than a long rant about a long list of grievances real or
imagined; and more imagined than real. The audience was sparse with
many, as they have been wont to do of late, leaving as he railed on.
The national celebration became a national ordeal.
Clearly the public, nauseated by the stench, has no stomach for
Disgustus.
As an old projectionist I once worked with once put it:
“Kid”, he opined, “they've stayed away in droves”.
Here Disgustus once again demonstrates, as if further
demonstrations are ever needed, his breathtaking incompetence.
Before the nation and the world Disgustus the Great cannot organize a
two-car funeral.
And
Bre'er Putin, he jus' laugh and laugh
Impeach, Convict, Imprison.
