The Ultimate Humiliation?

This is almost too delicious to think about. In fact, it’s so intoxicating that I am starting to seriously consider not going to bed at all tomorrow night. I had planned to sleep, and have Teri set the alarm for 8:30 Wednesday morning, to watch the swearing in. But sometimes events force changes.

It has been widely reported that El Pendejo Presidente is planning himself one helleva grand send off from Andrews Air Force base on Wednesday morning, and all on our dime. Trump wants himself a red carpet, an honor guard, a military band, a military parade, and for dessert, a fly by of military jets. And then he’ll finally waddle up the stairs to Air Force One for the last time, and slink back to Florida with his tail between his legs.

Personally, I don’t see this happening, it’s far too militant. The US military takes great pride in separating itself from partisan politics, or any kind of politics. Military members take an oath to the constitution, and the President is the duly elected commander in chief. To put on this kind of a gaudy, Pyongyang kind of spectacle would make it appear as if the military were paying homage to the and not the office or the constitution. I just don’t see them doing that.

But it is starting to appear as if there might be some sand that’s been thrown into the gears of this glorious send off. Rachel Maddow is reporting that things are not going quite as scheduled. Apparently, what happened is, that the White House compiled a list of loyalists, and sent them personal invitations to show up at Andrews on Wednesday morning. So far, so good. But the invitation invited each recipient to bring up to five guests with them! Holy shit! How small is this friends list that they have to tell these poor suckers to drag along five other losers who owe them favors in order to fluff up a crowd?!?

But that isn’t the worst of it. According to Rachel’s reporting, there is only a trickle of RSVP’s coming in, with recipients promising to show up. How apropos is that? You send your entire life screwing everybody you come into contact with, and then, at the lowest moment of your life, when you desperately need the support, everybody suddenly has Brazilian Bikini Wax appointments that they just can’t break.

I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. We have spent four of the longest years in the history of mankind suffering through this buffoonish poltroon. I can’t sleep through the prospect of having television cameras record for posterity Donald John Trump, rolling up to an almost totally empty tarmac at Andrews Air Force base, especially if it’s raining, and having to surveille a largely naked landscape on his way up the stairs. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. This is too good to miss!

If you enjoyed this article, you might also like to check out President Evil, and the sequel, President Evil II, A Clodwork Orange . They comprise a pretty much daily report from the front of the 2016 GOP primaries, as well as the general election

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