When Donald Trump runs for President, he’s not bringing America’s best. He’s bringing people with lots of problems. And they’re bringing those problems with them. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.

Or not. I don’t know. Maybe they’re all rapists. No one saw him getting this far, is all I’m saying.

But let’s show a little optimism. Everyone was sure Crystal Pepsi was a good idea too. Remember that? Then we found out no one wanted to white wash Pepsi. But at least white washed Crystal Pepsi still tasted like Pepsi. Donald Trump pretending he doesn’t know about David Duke and the KKK is more like brewing compost.

That ain’t Folgers in your cup.

But I guess we have to talk about race again. The Oscars happened, and David Duke loves him his orange The Donald. But just wait till David Duke discovers Oompa Loompas come from Africa. I bet Donald Trump will know who David Duke is then.

The point of all this is that maybe we should just relax. We’ve got so much dread and self-loathing. Our social media accounts are lit up with dire prophecies. Like we’ve all suddenly become Nostradamus. Trump will be Hitler! Trump tweets Mussolini, and an orange shih-tzu rises from the West with 666 branded on his paw! Like any of that’s going to help. “Oh, I was going to vote for Trump, but then I saw that one meme”—said no one ever.

Still. That pesky fact remains: Our social media accounts are lit up. There are so many anti-Trump forces out there. Entire countries debating whether or not to ban him. There’s Vicente Fox and the F-word. (Sounds like a children’s book.) The Donald Trump candidacy has been like one big shock and awe campaign. Only he’s supplying all the shocks, and we’re all like, “awwww.”

But seriously. How bad can it be? I mean, it’s not like civil liberties are being trampled on. (Disclaimer: Unless you live in certain key regions affected by the Patriot Act. Or Ferguson, MO. Or between the East and West Coast. Or Hawaii. And if you live in Alaska, all bets are off.)

And it’s not like are children isn’t learning.

Look, there’s nothing wrong with this country that a bulletproof vest and a Bushmaster Assault Rifle can’t solve. Look out your window. Are the streets running with blood? No? Well then you must not live near a school. Don’t worry. Be happy.

Thing is, the folks who really want to stop Donald Trump are going about it all wrong. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I’m just a guy. I’m no different from you, except that I happen to have a blog and a silly stick. (Unless you have those things too, in which case you are me and it sucks to be you.) But if you ask me (which, admittedly, no one ever does and, let’s face it, not for entirely unfounded reasons,) but if you DID ask me, I’d tell you that you’ve got to take it back down to a level the people understand. Give the people what they want. And what do the people want?


Straight up racism, baby. Talk about the color of his skin. We’re obsessed with skin color. Only this time it’ll be a social service. He’s a Cheeto. And too much Cheetos is bad, m’kay?

Maybe you’re better than me, and skin color isn’t your speed. One could branch out: He has bad hair, as has well been documented. Or there’s the theoretical: I bet he tastes like brewed compost.

These are the jokes, people.

Face it. No one is bringing down The Donald by talking about the First Amendment, or oh-my-god-he’s-going-to ban-1.6 billion-Muslims, or Mexicans being rapists. None of that’s going to fly, because as George Carlin famously said: The point of cocaine, alas, is to run out of it.

When the high from Donald Trump’s soundbites wears off, people want more. And so his critics are always one step behind, and he’s there, all covered in blood, looking like Russell Crowe at the Colosseum: ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?

So yeah, The Donald is just weird. He’s a Cheeto. Like Cheetos? Trump 2016.Keep it simple. Keep it stupid. He does.



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