OK, everybody can stop hyperventilating now. The bad, nasty curly haired lady has gone back to telling jokes to people who actually like her. To me, Michelle Wolf didn’t crack the best joke of the night, that honor went to Andrea Mitchell, hysterically shrieking “I’ll GET you Michelle, and your little dog too!” on Twitter. Jesus Andrea, what are you so pissed about? I didn’t hear any jokes about ass kissing septuagenarians, chill out!
His Lowness of course ran from the White House Correspondents Dinner as if it was a subpoena from Robert Mueller, seeking solace instead from a crowd of fellow idiots. In front of a mob of equally IQ challenged buffoons, he spent an hour and twenty minutes of rambling free association that would have confounded Sigmund Freud. He also left me with a burning question. That question is, how can Trump possibly know how rich he is, when he can’t even answer the simplest math question in the world, which is 1+1=2? Here’s what I mean.
1 Kremlin backed hack lawyer + 1 Trump looking for dirt on Hillary Clinton = 2 assholes conspiring to defraud the United States of America
The funny thing is, that Trump didn’t realize that he was admitting that his campaign conspired with the Russians, he thought he was being smart and sarcastic. He thought this because he forgot the fact that he wasn’t just speaking to a room full of blockheads that think they give out Nobel Peace Prizes to goosestepping morons who threaten to turn other countries into nuclear cinder farms, those pesky TV cameras were there too. CNN memorialized the event for posterior, I mean posterity;
In fact, have you heard about the lawyer? For a year, a woman lawyer, she was like, ‘Oh, I know nothing.’ … Now all of a sudden she supposedly is involved with government. You know why? If she did that, because Putin and the groups said, ‘you know this Trump is killing us. Why don’t you say that you’re involved with government so that we could go and make their life in the United States even more chaotic.’ Look at what’s happened. Look at how these politicians have fallen for this junk. Russian collusion. Give me a break.”
The perfect juxtaposition of form and function here is something that a grand master like Frank Lloyd Wright could only envy. Trump fornicated the canine twice in one paragraph. First, he admitted that Putin directly interfered in our election, and that he was using the lawyer now to sew new discord in our system. Ummm, “Mission Accomplished” jerkwad! You even alluded to it yourself! Veselnitskaya’s admission just sparked another blast of political controversy around your empty head. Methinks you’re the one who needs a break, a nice long one, in a quiet, dark room, with soft fluffy walls. And, if the Russian lawyer said it, oh, I don’t know, that kind of tends to prove that she’s working for Putin by your hypothesis. And your y-chromosome mutant son admits to having met with her in Trump Tower, looking for dirt on Hillary! How can you possibly stand there and claim that this in any way proves your point about there having been “NO COLLUSION!”?
There are a couple of things that Glorious Bleater didn’t say here that are just as telling as what he did say. For one, he didn’t even bother to claim that the meeting was about Russian adoption. That kind if distinction is lost on a crowd that thinks that “Nobel! Nobel!” is something you shout at a UFC fight that you don’t want to stop. Trump didn’t even bother to try to flog that deceased equine again. Besides, if the meeting really was about Russian adoption, there would have been no need to fudge the original AF1 statement, because no Trump Jr e-mails would have contradicted it. And two, Trump didn’t even throw in the disclaimer, “A meeting which, by the way, I personally knew nothing about.” Of course he knew. This is a man who once slapped the same son across the chops for wanting to wear a Yankees jersey to a Yankees game. Donnie Jr doesn’t blow his own nose without his old mans permission and approval. Trump was in the building, one fllor up, and the Russians were sccorted in through the back door, and all the time Trump is sitting in his office, fast forwarding to the fight scenes in “Bloodsport?” No Donnie, give US a break!
You know, if I’m Robert Mueller right now (and thank God I’m not, or this investigation would be dead in the water), I take the easy way, and follow the path of the least resistance. The last thing I want to do right now is to try to interview or subpoena Donald Trump. Instead, I go deep undercover, and book as many Trump rallies for him as he can show up and bloviate for. Then just sit back, and wait for the silly bastard to convict himself out of his own mouth. After all, as another famous booking agent, Swiftus Lazarus, once said, “Boy, you are nuts! NVTS, nuts!”
