So many people are saying…
Donald Trump is our white Bill Cosby, only without the humor. A vile cretin. Guilty of serial sexual assault and bragging about it.
I got one great email from a real American. He told me that he and his friends all think that…
Trump’s election threatens to Cosby our country, only we’re all wide awake and getting slimed in slow motion. Far too many black holes spit out detestables eager to make us long for a democracy exception or a poll test for the basket of racist, sexist, bigoted nativists who inhabit too many sleazy cracks in our country’s fabric.
I’ve got so many wonderful people telling me …
Trump’s appeal isn’t just to uneducated whites and people that like wearing pointy white hats and masks. His support runs deeper. It extends to a wide smorgasbord of goofy, weak, really low energy people: Hillary haters; bigoted, racist and sexist Hillary haters, and a cesspool of people who think Trump’s business fairy tales, bankruptcies, and screwing over small business people somehow qualify him to lead our country into a ditch.
I’m just reporting what everyone is saying…
All the real polls show…
None of Trump’s core voters could ever qualify to stay at any of his hotels or resorts. But they’d feel right at home in Germany — in the 1930’s and 40’s.
A real funny guy, not that sad, failed Seth Meyers, told me…
Trump reminded him of cultivated pond scum, kind of like a spoiled creme brulee.
He’s embarrassing. Dumb as a rock and proud of it. Very dishonest. Soon to be irrelevant. Sickly. Failing. A big lightweight. And I hear his dad and Lee Harvey Oswald hung out together.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
But my reputation as a fair and balanced columnist somehow preceded me. Trump agreed to preen for a short interview when he rolled into Houston to raise money he didn’t need since he is self financing his campaign. I refused to play the Trump game. I summoned up a little Megyn Kelly and Chris Wallace and attacked with really unfair questions that only the unfair press can pose.
But first I had to soften him up.
So Donald, how big is it? Really?
Huge. I may be 70, but I’m not a Hillary 70. Sniff. I’m in good shape. Look at my hair. Have you ever seen anything like it? You should see my glow at twilight. Prettier than a sunset.
Actually, I think Americans are more interested in your tax returns. How about showing them?
Taxes are for losers. Let me tell you, my return is so huge it’s scary. And I know big. I’ve got no problem in that area. I guarantee it. And why would I want to give the failing NY Times another article to make up? Let me tell you something: None of their goofy reporters has the guts to run for POTUS. No wonder they’re jealous. I’m bigger than them in so many ways it’s not funny. Look, you’re too obsessed with sex. Enough.
How about giving America only the pages showing all of your charitable deductions? Or is that section too big also?
Look, charity means giving back, right? I’m giving, giving, giving all the time. If I didn’t build great hotels, resorts, apartments and luxury condos then where would people live? You’d have horrible homelessness. My amazing buildings are my charity to every legal American. And that includes all my many Russian and Chinese investors and an amazing black and a decent Mexican. My people work so, so hard to give the black and the Mexican a place to stay. Just go to any of my places. You’ll always see a lots of blacks and Mexicans doing stuff. Now that’s real charity. I could cut lots of checks, but I’d rather get tax credits from New York so I can finally solve the upscale homelessness problem.
You talk about strong leadership. What does that mean to you?
Three things: Winning.
But that’s one thing.
It’s all the same. You want another? How about knowing how to deliver exciting lies and call them facts?
Avoiding buses if there’s a Bush on it.
Anything else you’d like to share with my Bumpspot audience?
Yes, I am going to win so very big on November 8. Just you watch how many more people vote for me than for all of the other candidates combined. The press won’t report that. But I will clearly win the legitimate male voting machines. Bigly. You can’t count Hillary’s votes. The nasty women voting machines are all rigged.
And if you lose?
I won’t ever lose. This is a movement. And all the heated self-flushing toilet bowls in all of my fanciest hotels can’t contain this movement. You watch. Sniff. The country will never ever be the same. Trust me on that.