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Month: March 2017

BRITISH ESPIONAGE

Two weeks ago, Donald Trump fastened his Tater Tot-sized fingers around a comment from Fox commentator Andrew Napolitano. Napolitano claimed that it was the British Secret Service who helped President Obama bug the President.

The President embraced Napolitano as a credible news source after learning that he’s a paranoid right winger (redundant, I know), and that he scored a perfect 100 on Cosmo’s popular “Are you a Pathological Liar?” quiz.

Britain immediately expressed outrage over the charge. Feelings became so raw between the U.S. and our closest ally that a secret meeting took place between President Trump and British Prime Minister Theresa May. It was held at the luxurious new Trump Bottom- Feeders Golf Club and Resort.

When May entered the room she extended her hand. Trump was motionless.

Trump: Ask that Kraut lady, Angela Farkle. She’ll tell you I’m too chickensh*t to shake hands with strong women.

Trump then sought refuge behind a coat rack.

May: Christ, you really are orange?

Trump: I drink a lot of Tang.

May: It’s safe to come out from behind the coat rack, Mr. President.

Trump: No, I’m good.

May: We find your claim to be the ravings of a bloated whack-job and totally without merit.

Trump: Like I care about what Norway thinks?

May: “Norway?”I’m the prime minister of Britain.

Trump: That’s near England, right? Wait, Britain, now I get it. That’s why later we’re going to have your country’s favorite breakfast, eggs and gristle.

May mumbled “moron” under her breath.

Trump: Listen babe, I was told to ask about your problems to pretend that I give a rat’s ass about anyone other than myself. What’s going on with your leaving the European League?

May: European Union. It’s going fine. It should be complete in two years.

Trump: “Two years?” Man, that’s slow. I’m pretty sure I’ll have totally ruined America by September.

May: I have August in the pool.

Ken Hecht

 

LOSING IT

The rejection of Paul Ryan’s twenty-year-long health care wet dream by Congressional Republicans has knocked Donald Trump for an emotional loop.

Having never heard the word “no,” before becoming President, and now hearing it consistently, has begun to cause him to hallucinate. Trump now thinks he’s actually a human being.

He now wanders the White House at night, mumbling in incomplete sentences, his bathrobe open and his belly entering rooms forty seconds before he does.

So distraught is he that he’s begun talking to the portraits of former presidents, asking them for advice. Initially he got no response, but his condition has deteriorated and now he thinks Richard Nixon’s picture has begun to talk back to him.

Trump: Dick, they’re killing me on this health care thing.

Nixon: And they should. Listen, I was the meanest prick on the planet, but I would never throw twenty-four million people off of their heath care unless I could hide it from them…Damn it Donald, I was a great president and I was not a thief that much.

Trump: I agree. You were great, but that five o’clock shadow killed you. Paul Ryan has a five o’clock shadow too, but he doesn’t sweat like a pig on camera like you did. You really looked like crap.

Nixon: I looked like crap? Buy a mirror, fish lips.

Trump: Blow me. I have great lips.

Nixon: I’ve seen smaller ones on Great Whites. Obama could have hidden a drone in them.

Trump: … Obama? Drone?… You could be right. I need to have myself swept for bugs… Geez, I hate this job.

Nixon: You wanted it.

Trump: Christ, they watch me like a hawk. I can’t smuggle hookers in. There are cameras everywhere so all I can do now is grope the statues and I have to have sex with Kellyanne Conway. Jesus, I’d rather have sex with your wife. Even now.

Nixon: Thanks.

Trump: I need a favor.

Nixon: What?

Trump: Can you give me a tutorial on how to get impeached?

Nixon: Sure. Just keep doing what you’re doing.

 

Ken Hecht

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Desperate to keep her job as Senior White House Jester, Kellyanne Conway chewed trough the restraints on the chair she was strapped to in the Congressional building’s basement.

She had been put there by Steve Bannon because she exceeded the twenty-five moronic statements people in the Trump administration are allotted each week.

Intent on making the weekend talk shows, Conway distracted her guards, showing them pictures of her knees resting on various couches, futons and Muslims.

She made her way to the building’s main floor where she tricked the Capitol Police into believing she was a right wing Republican legislator by sneaking onto a tour and tripping a young child on crutches.

Once on the street, she headed for Fox News where she was prepared to discuss the many topics she’s clueless about. Once on camera, she was asked where the evidence of President Obama’s spying on Donald Trump was.

Circuses employ people to stick their hands up elephant’s butts and pull out what they can just before the pachyderms appear in front of the audience. “These people are called elephant reamers.

Conway, Trump’s Senior Reamer, does this before every public appearance of the President’s. Unable to empty all of Trump’s poop without the use of explosives, she found herself trying once again to clean up another one of his messes caused by a rare condition he has known as oral incontinence.

She explained, “Mr. Trump only meant that there are many devices such as microwaves that can be used to spy on people.”

She was asked if electronic devices wouldn’t explode in a microwave. She answered, “No, that’s cats, silly. Kaboom!”

Just then Steve Bannon raced onto the stage carrying a straightjacket from the Ivanka Trump Spring Collection. He shouted, “Get back to the White House. Trump’s about to make a public appearance.”

With lightening speed, Kellyanne snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, screamed, “God, I love my job” and bolted for the door.

Bannon looked at the straightjacket, got a thought and headed for Sean Hannity’s office.

Ken Hecht