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.
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