Golden Rain Fun In Moscow

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As I’ve said here, #americant deserves #Trump. And. From the get-go, nomatter what believers (i.e. the fail upwards middle-classes) claim as they are chocking on that belief, there was no doubt in my mind that president über-stupid likes the peepee. Now. I suppose it’s debatable if he’s one of them perverts that likes to watch the/his women-folk pee or if he likes the other version–being peed on. But there’s no doubt that he likes the stuff–probably the yellower (or is it goldener) the better. And since the pee-dossier (see link below) has received some new life in the media, why not begin the arduous task of researching whether or not #Trump actually kissed his mother with that butthole of a mouth he sells (and #Americants have bought whole-heartily). No. Seriously. Dearest worst-reader! Get this. If/when #Trump gets impeached or quits, the idiot base that elected him will replace him. Indeed. The religious $hitbags will then have finally gained what they always wanted. Seriously. That’s it. There will be more wars of choice. Further looting of the treasury. And women will be required–according to the standards dictated by inept interpretation of a book written during the bronze-age–to bear the children of men… that like to be peed on.

Of course, the saddest thing about #Trumps despicable, obscene, abominable behaviour is that the really bad stuff in the pee-dossier will not only reveal some truths about the man but, perhaps, the whole of the united mistakes of #americant. Yea, baby.

Rant on. Suckers.

-T

Links that motivated this post:

A Faustian Bargain Is Not A Pact

mephisto - brandauer

While listening to the news about my beloved and missed #americant, and, of course, news about #Trump, some talking-head started on about a Faustian Bargain. In the wake of Charlottesville, VA, isn’t it time to have something new to take your minds of the reality you’ve given yourself? Of course, I have to stop in my tracks. #Trump and neo-nazis are not about a Faustian Bargain.

Now. I’m obviously no über literary type. In fact, at last count (this morning) it’s been at least fifteen or so years since I read anything Goethe. (Yeah, kinda gave up on the German literature thing after the Germans, like the Americans, gave up on me. Fcuk ’em all, eh. But enough about worst-moi.)

Here’s two things to keep in mind:

  1. The Faustian Bargain is from Goethe’s Faust (part 1)
  2. The pact with the devil is from Dr. Faustus, by Christopher Marlowe

Now. I’m not familiar with the original story of Faustus, which is from German folklore and where Marlowe got his story two hundreds years before Goethe wrote his. Goethe’s version is different than both the original story and Marlowe’s–and that’s what always drew me to it. But, again, enough about worst-moi.

#Trump is not a Faustian Bargain. Nor is America’s electing #Trump a Faustian bargain. Reason? A Faustian Bargain is not a pact with the devil. In fact, from what I recall, in Goethe’s version of the story–which is the best of them all–Mephistopheles is actually the one who gives in to Faust because Faust won’t make a pact with him. Faust is simply above Mephistopheles both intellectually and morally–you know, the way it should be in an enlightened world. Without splitting too many hairs, what Mephistopheles actually ends up doing with Faust is more like a wager. In the end, even after ruining a really nice chick, Faust beats Mephistopheles.

Goethe’s Faust is a really, really smart guy. I guess, to some, Goethe is or would like to have been Faust. I mean. I’m sure Goethe was pretty ticked-off that he couldn’t get any of the fame that his English rival got. You know, Shakespeare (and the English language) did do a number on those who were interested in writing $hit down–and the German language never matched that. Wait. Let me get out of the way of that can of worms I just opened.

And while I’m off subject, Goethe is probably one of the last polymaths and he was certainly preoccupied with other things even while writing one of the greatest epic poems slash plays ever. Whereas Shakespeare was probably out there somewhere banging the women that weren’t allowed on stage in those whacky female characters he created or he was heisting text from Marlowe, Goethe was… well… polymathing. But, again, before I get too far off subject.

But here’s the thing…

America made a pact (art of the deal) with–and thereby sold its soul to–Mephistopheles long before #Trump. The most important thing to remember about the pact (art of the deal) was that it would last through generations. How many generations? Your guess is as good as worst-mine. But that’s neither here nor there at this point. The thing to remember is that it started when America, Americans (#americant) replaced God with money. A short time after that it elected a former actor and governor of the snowflake capital of the world, California, as president. Indeed. The snowflakeball of hell has a limitless mountain side to roll down.

Ronald Reagan, who was a huge fan of Mephisto–Mephistopheles’ nickname among certain privileged classes–was able to up the ante of America’s pact (art of the deal) with Mephistopheles. Reagan was able to do this because of how Americans fell for his chart plotting, thorough scape-goating of government and taxes, and the demonisation of communism. In return, Mephisto saw to it, following what Reagan had started, that the US would win the Cold War. For those who grew up worshipping the God-Dollar–i.e. the baby-boomer generation!–it was a time that can only be compared to Sodom & Gomorrah. And so. The winners of the Cold War, like evil, filthy, retarded pirates, took no prisoners. There was only pillaging, rape, a bit too much incest (hence those flag waving boys at recent Charlottesville, VA, debacle) and, of course, waaaaaaay too much… wet t-shirt heroism on the part of utterly stupid search for a husband females.

There’s only one problem now that Mephistopheles owns everything because of how Americans have sold out (to conservatives first, republicans second). Mephistopheles is bored. #Trump bores him to tears. The ignorance of Dubya Bush was much more entertaining. Even Barry-O and Hillary brought some light to Mephistopheles who was starting to regret outsmarting a country of rich nitwits. Indeed. Depravity can even bore the evil spirit.

So you see, dear worst-reader, there’s no reason to blame #Trump for your ills. He is but a cog in the wheel of the evil you’ve perpetrated to get you where you are. If you have enough money to consume-to-survive, then bend over for your Mephistopheles. If you don’t have enough money, you’ll bend over just the same as those who do. Which kind of equals things out for you, don’t you know. And in the end, while your blame game continues, while you twitter around the left and right side of your conjoined cock-pussy-brain, at least you can still buy candy corn. Halloween’s coming, baby.

Rant on.

-T

Cut Off Nose To Spite Face, #Americant Style

It just keeps gettin better and better. Sitting on this pedestal I’ve made for myself at thirty thousand feet above normal, I look down at my brethren of yore, my deepest cousins in crime, the land I miss so dearly. And while looking down, what do I see? A shit-show of epic proportions. I mean, you’d think that at this point someone, somewhere in #americant could step up to the plate. Not Joe-shmow, of course. Joe-Shmow is the problem! But why not a Senator, why not a former president, why not Hillary? As far as I can tell there are only a few congressmen that have stepped up to the plate so far, i.e. the two-hundred or so that are suing #Trump over violating the emoluments clause. Bless their sweet little liberal hearts, eh! Of course, we all know what lawsuits are all about. I mean. Come on. Lawsuits are like porn was back in the day when you had to put a quarter in a machine and a small window opened up where you saw Davila playing with her Dirty Nikki. I mean, you really gotta wanna go there with lawsuits these days–but once you go–you’re there. Or maybe not.

Speaking of lawsuits. Last year when my better-half dragged me off to India for what was supposed to be a two to three year stint aka career betterment–but turned out to be a dudd–I was threatened by a restaurant manager who thought a lawsuit was the best way to solve a simple bank transfer problem. Seriously. We had a lunch at a Bangelore shopping mall. The bill was (insert # Rupees here; about $14) and we thought we paid. I even kept the receipt. About a week later we got a call from the restaurant manager that the bank transfer of the card didn’t go through. If we don’t pay the bill by that afternoon, he said, he was gonna sue me. Seriously, India? Are you the first other world country to be Trumped above the rest? The next day, of course, I travelled back to the mall/restaurant–getting around Bangelore is a nightmare, btw–and paid our bill with cash. The manager was thankful and went into this long tirade about how some people just don’t pay their tabs. Oh really.

I suppose every once-a-once, in a world governed, managed, made profitable by lawsuits, there might be one or three out there that actually makes sense. And so, with all the gusto I can muster from these thirty thousand feet, looking down upon the land I love/miss so much–and for the sake of Seth Rich’s family–sue the beegeezees out ’em, baby.

Rant on.

-t

Links that motivated this post:

Stuck In The Abomination That Is The Third Grade Through To The Sophomoric. You’re Welcome.

the couch

The moment I first heard the term “fake news” I laughed my a$$ off. I mean, come on. I grew up in a suburban hell that can only produce propaganda, greed, and, maybe the rock band Texas Hippie Coalition (even though, in spirit or proximity, I’m from no where near Texas). No. Seriously. I just discovered that band on the interwebnets. Boy, does that lead singer have a pair of lungs on him. And the chick in the “Turn It Up Louder” video. Darling Nikki/Honey? (Yea, I actually listen to lyrics.) Lorde have mercy at the moment she appears in the music video! She is made in the image of a stripper not unlike David is made in the image of white men destined to fcuk up the world. But before I get too far off subject. Back to what makes Joseph Goebbels not only turn over in his grave but his dirty rotten soul is probably pleasuring itself with wet dreams for all eternity with what’s happening right now in my beloved #americant–whether or not you have watched Turn It Up Louder. Indeed. Fake news has many faces. Of course, there is one caveat about this whole fake news nonsense. So let’s go where Trumpians won’t go.

Although I’d rather try and worst-write about psychological projection (see link below), Dirty Nikki got me all hot and bothered. Instead, while staying on a über superficial level with Freud and how he made fake news possible, let’s also have a quick look at Dr. Fcuking Freud and one of his other grand achievements. Did you know, dear worst-reader, that Sigmund Freud gave some of his patients cocaine? And we’re not talking just the snorting of the stuff. Or did you not know that Freud also discovered the therapeutic use of the drug for frigid women? To ease a woman’s nerves and help her open up during sessions–just like Dirty Nikki eases mine in the confines of that little space left in the back of my mind where I can still look at a female that way–Freud instructed some of his female patients to not only snort cocaine but also to rub it on their Dirty Nikki parts so that they could prolong self pleasuring themselves and, of course, at the same time talking as only women know how to talk.

And so.

A rich banker type named Gunther Leckmichamarsch (GL) rushed into Sigmund Freud’s office one day in 1885 in the grand city of Vienna. GL was on a mission, baby. He was going to Freud’s office to save his wife from what he called the corruption of a second husband–who he was paying hourly for. Lydia Leckmichamarsch had been seeing Freud for three months. But GL noticed changes in his wife only after her second week of analysis. She would come home euphoric, excited, she even went about her daily affairs with a slight dance in her step. Even though she was less irritable than at other times, GL didn’t like the sudden change. It was unbecoming of a woman. It was unbecoming of his wife.

GL knew that other wives from his big banking office were seeing Dr. Freud, as well. So he started asking around. Three colleagues, one below and two above his pay grade, said they noticed the same thing in their wives after visiting “the doctor”. When GL asked the other men if they’d like to do something about what was going on, two said they didn’t mind what was happening. For them it was a relief, they were even joyous of the change in their wives. The hassle of marriage had finally become tolerable because the women would just leave them alone and go about doing other things, always preoccupied. The third gentleman admitted that he was already plotting to murder Dr. Freud and when GL said that he wasn’t willing to go that far, he knew he would be on his on.

And so.

After GL burst into Freud’s office that day, while his wife was pulling up her knickers, Freud was informed that his days of taking advantage of the sanctity of marriage were over. Even though Freud ended up writing some whacked out academic papers on the use of cocaine in therapy he quickly found himself shunned in Vienna and had to move his practice elsewhere. For the rest of his days cocaine would remain part of his life but not part of what else he would accomplish. Or maybe not.

In the end, dear worst-reader, the greatest thing about Freud and his cocaine phase was that he single handedly woke up the desperate house wives of the rich and famous of late 19th century #eurowasteland. He opened up a new world where women could at least begin to think twice about their special button and why it is placed so far out of whack compared to where a man’s special button is placed. Which means? Word got out fast about the use of cocaine and Dirty Nikki parts. Yea, baby. Alone its analgesic effects so enhanced not only a woman’s drive but stymied the premature release of those husbands who were willing to give it a go, too. Which brings me back to our loving husband protagonist, GL.

And what a good husband he would become. He even got to know Freud’s dealer after Freud was ran out of town. Which brings me ’round to what I really wanted to worst-write about. Sorry for getting so off-track here. Damn headbanger rock-n-roll! Dirty Nikki galore…

How come the world hasn’t come to an end with the advent of fake news? I’ll tell you why. It can’t come to end because that would mean that everybody has to look in the mirror. And while looking you also have to say the pledge of The Society of the Psychological Projectors.

The pledge goes something like this (warning: this is a worst-work in progress; thanks for lowering your expectations.):

If I say something and you believe it, it’s your fault.

If I do something and it turns out to be based on a lie, don’t worry. It’s what you deserve.

While you’re sleeping don’t be afraid to have your life stolen from under your bed. You’re welcome.

The world is an incredible place for me because I’m rich. And since you made me with your ignorance of politics. Fcuk you.

If you think things are hard now, don’t worry. You can always re-elect Trump.

And so.

Your life is about being stuck in an abomination that is the third grade and if you’re lucky goes all the way up to being a sophomore. That’s it.

Suckers. We (your owners) are laughing at you.

Suckers.

-end-

Rant on.

-t

Links that motivated this post:

Germany And Why #Trump And His Ilk Hate That

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This is just a list (bullets followed by minor worst-explanations) I’ve been putting together in my head since reading that #Trump thinks Germany is bad, bad, real bad. I guess, in a way, I’m kinda jealous of Trump–you know, his bullhorn is so much louder than mine. Still, that’s why the tech-gods gave us all the capacity to have cute little blogs. Or? Anywho. Below is a list of thoughts (bullets) why Trump and his followers hate Germany. And remember, dear worstreader, this type of hate isn’t so much a fcuk-you-hate but instead you mean nothing hate w/out your autobahns and cars… Hate. In other worst-words, keep in mind, when reading this (and other worstwriting), especially when it comes to comparing my beloved #americant with my golden cage, Germania, I will never be a German, don’t want to be one and will gladly pass on without being one of them dipshits that immigrated here (by mistake and got stuck) and took it up the a$$. Or didn’t you know that Germany is a club, a collective club and if you’re not born into it you’re not in it. (Thank God!) Whatever that means. Oh. I’m off subject again.

  • Germany is a politically functional country–that over engineers everything–even government.

Compared to my beloved #americant, the Germans actually do things with government that don’t just benefit one part of society, i.e. the 1%. Now don’t get me wrong. In general, Germany (and Europe) still has a feudalism problem. Luckily, because the aristocrats of that feudalism–made up of both the children and grandchildren that gave us WW2–have been so pacified by what their parents and grandparents actually did, they don’t have much of a voice to manipulate politics–as is the case of the winners of WW2 in #americant and Engaland. (I mean, come on, Dick Chaney, Margerate Thatcher, Dipshit Dubya, #Trump, do all seem to hold a grudge–for winning.) The wealth of aristocrats in Germany is used in part to maintain the structures of the country and, especially, the Mittelstand. In other words, if left up to their own doing, the aristocrats that own Germany would sell it out just like the rich have sold out America since the 70s, culminating in today’s globalisation. How long the Germans can hold out–with austerity n’all–is anyone’s guess. But that’s another issue. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Germans love their green aka environment–even though places like Cologne are unGodly ugly and there’s snot everywhere.

I’m always complaining about there being too much green in this country. I read somewhere once that of all European countries, Germany has the most trees per capita. Think about that. If Europe was a house, Germany would be a guest toilet in it–and it still has the most trees of all other countries–per capita. And speaking of guest toilets. Get this. I have never been anywhere in the world where so many people have alergies, the sniffles, soar throats, etc., day-in, day-out–all fcuking year ’round. Trees, grass, …shit in the air NOT from cars–and people are as sick as three legged dogs that eat too much icecream. And I often go to these people–many, many people–with their über coughing and über sneezing, snot running down their allergy faces, and say: why don’t you get rid of some of this fcuking green? Do you have any idear how f’n polluted your air is with all the dust and pollen and spores that all this green sprews out? Of course, as usual, they just look at me dumbfounded. Indeed. German government do get itself some green! Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Order, timing and efficiency are all lies not worthing revealing and always garner a smile or three but if you book a train early enough to your destination it’s also really, really mega cheap–and they serve real beer on it.

Everytime I fly internationally, I get to FRA using a train. When I visit family in the north, I use a train. When I go to Paris… Why anyone would fly to France from Germany is a mystery to me. Anywho. When I was a kid and first started traveling to Germania, people back home would always mention, in passing, and based on their knowledge of The Old Country–The Huns–that the trains all run on-time. Now. Let’s get something straight. Although the DB (Deutsche Bahn) is pretty good compared to other European and American train systems, it is far from an efficient or on-time. In fact, when using it, I can’t remember the last time a train was on-time or without some major outage–as in the train has to stop and let out all passangers at a trainstation prior to its original destination. I would still rather take a train in Germany than drive a car, though, that’s for sure. Oh. And by-the-buy. The entire train system here is paid for by government. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Health Care and my gold teeth.

No. Seriously. I don’t go to the doctor. Don’t go to a dentist either. Or do I? My philosophy is: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. My German wife’s philosophy is different. That said, I’ve had minor surgery (ten years ago), all of my teeth fillings and caps are in gold, I’ve had very large German fingers check my prostate (twice!), I’ve had my eyes examined, my ears poached, my knees bumped (with one of the rubber hammers) and my tongue checked by a nurse that looked just like Pamela Anderson–at least the part of her that I could see looked like Pam A as she leaned over me and begged that I say “Ah”. And you know what, dear worst-reader? After all of that, I have yet to see a doctor bill. “Whaaaaaa,” you say. Seriously. I have never seen a doctor f’n bill in the over two decades that I’ve been an expat. Now ask me if I laugh at my brethren in #americant as they bitch & maon about healthcare. Ha. Ha. Ha. Suckers. And. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Germans are pro business without being anti-social.

This is a bit of complicated issue. So let me address it from the other side. The thing that’s obvious about my beloved #americant today is that it’s lost its ability to be creative in business. Probably since the 1970s, the US has been riding on the industrial laurels of the past. This in part is due to generational issues–as baby-boomers secure their retirements–but it also has to do with a skewed sense of what the American Way is all about. Indeed.  The generational issue, i.e. baby-boomer greed mongering galore, cannot be underestimated here. The simple truth is, while Americans jockey around in their inability to self diagnose and/or think independently–thanks to faux newz–they also find themselves swimming in a cesspool of political lies and untruths–all to their own personal detriment. Hence, to worst-moi, the fact that faux newz is even on the air says everything about where Americans are politically and mentally. But let me come back to this side of things. Germany has yet to idealise their politics like Americans have with faux news. What is said politically in America cannot be said in Germany. And that’s not because it’s not allowed to be said. Put another way, it’s not that the bull$hit of right-wing propaganda can’t be said as much as it can’t be heard because there is no one to listen to it over here. Oh yeah… The German government is very pro-business without being anti-social. Everybody and every business has to pay its share to make things work/function here and they all seem to do it willingly. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • All bankers are a$$holes but German bankers aren’t a$$holes and suckers.

Alright. Here’s an open can of worms for ya. As I’ve tried to post here and maybe here, my best-worst-guess (as an arm-chair pseudo economist) is that one of the reasons Trump and his ilk are pissed at the Germans is because the Germans saw through the bull$hit of the real-estate bubble that was being promoted by the US Federal Reserve and US Treasury after 9/11, 2001. The Germans, especially Deutsche Bank, literally bet against the bubble and won. (Two other German banks lost.) I mean, even though it all kind of sounds complicated with the bull$hit that comes out of Wall Street, you know, financial engineering, CDOs, sub-prime mortgages, etc., it’s really not. It’s all more akin to being a casino. Within the casino there are different “games” being played. The difference to a real casino, though, is that after years of playing these games, all the participants, being used to one another, resort to other means to get ahead. You know, lying, cheating, manipulating, coercion, etc. Therefore the roulette table has its hidden buttons, the blackjack dealer has his price, the slot machine maintenance staff tighten the levers this way or that way, etc. The only problem is, what to do if a player decides not to play on the terms of The House. In the film The Big Short, the bank that bet against the US real estate market was Deutsche Bank. Oh, I said that already. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Education is practically free.

I guess I have to use the word “practically” because there is some cost involved in getting an education in good ole Germania. The difference to my beloved #americant education, though, is that here schooling isn’t treated as a business–as neo-liberal economic idealogy dictates it be treated back home. In other words, you can’t turn student loans into an industry here. Trump and his ilk hate that.

  • Technology can’t be monopolised.

This could be another can of worms–but I’ll go with it. The thing is, compared to my mom’s house on the eastern shore of Maryland (that I miss so much), I have the choice of at least three ISPs for my internet connection where I live in Germany. Not only that, but if I want to have a landline phone, which I don’t, I could chose from various services for that, too. As far as net-neutrality goes, it’s not much of an issue here because, well, media streaming is already offered through a variety of delivery systems. Then there is the issue of free speech, which German only has as long as that speech does not promote hate. Trump and his ilk hate that.

That’s about it for now. Will keep it all in the back of my worst-mind and update as required.

Rant on.

-t

Links that might have something to do with this post:

Since You’ve Already Forgotten Everything You Never Knew…

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A screen shot from… I forget.

I’m seriously trying not to pay attention to all the BS that’s going on with #Trump right now. But it’s hard, you know what I’m worst-saying, dear worst-reader? It’s hard because my best guess tells me that #Trump is a frickin genius. Forget all the firings, the crazy tweets, the whacky press briefings by that snobby bed wetter. #Trump is playing me. I know he is. Has there ever been this much power consolidated in the republican party before? Now that really-really frickin scares me. Yeah. It scares me more than that comb-over that he’s so good at hiding–or is he so good at feeding it?

Rant on.

-t

That Thing About Germaphobe Presidents And Denial Press Conferences

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Well, dear worst-reader, did you think it couldn’t get any worst? Surprise! You thought just because He won your hearts, your TV screens and your presidency that the batsh*t show of electoral politics was (all) over? You thought it was time to sit back, like you always do, visit the mall and consume things you don’t need, and that’s that? In a way, you’re right. The fun, nostalgia, entertainment factor and advertisement earnings of electoral politics is over. It’s just that something else has happened of late. Do you feel it? Indeed. Something above and beyond a measly consume-to-survive life is before us all. Your problem now is how to deal with that. Or is it?

Oh boy, what elation is ours at this moment in time & space?

But first, let’s cover a few things. To begin with, just for a moment, go with me here and give a thought or three to Dubya Dipsh*t Bush. I suppose there is some consolation in having had the nicest, hippest, coolest POTUS after Dipsh*t Dubya. Indeed, that’s what you can think about when you think about Dubya. For there is no forgetting/avoiding that Barry-O was/is also the lamest duck POTUS ever–and he’s also the only president to ever serve two whole terms while being at war during both. Thank you, Dubya.

(Note: Please keep in mind, dear worst-reader, that worst-writer doesn’t actually consider the use of US military power since 9/11 to be in a state of “war”. War takes place between armies of countries and/or nation-states. What we are doing in the middle east is better categorised as imperialism and/or empire. But let’s not split hairs in this post, eh.)

While I’m on the subject of who gave us the best POTUS ever, I suppose there’s no avoiding everybody’s favourite über-feminist: Hillary. And what did Hillary give us? Can you say: Mister Pee-on-me? That’s right, dear worst-reader. Now we not only have a slime-ball, comb-over n’chief that is stuck in his gold laced 1970s egocentricities, but we also have (finally?) a president that likes to be peed on. Thank you, Hillary.

Within the first few seconds of opening his anus-like mouth, I cringed and almost went into convulsions. But then something caught my attention. One good piece of information came from Mr. Pee-on-me and his news denial conference. The source of the pee-on-me story was revealed. For you see, dear worst-reader, I was all kinda confused with the whole thing as the sh*tshow of #goldenshowergate happened on twitter. Up to that point I wasn’t sure where all this krapp was coming from. I mean, come on. But now that the smoke screen has dissolved, it’s easy to see how political conservatism has permanently adopted #fakenews as a new channel for its (dis)information. Of course, those of us with half a brain know that #fakenews is nothing if only really bad journalism. The fact is, #fakenews has been going on for years. The difference now is that political conservatism has managed to take ownership of it. Hence, President Pee-on-me called out CNN during his press conference by making one of their reporters go to the back of the room and put on a dunce, i.e. #fakenews cap. Although CNN is a terrible news organisation, calling it out as the source of #fakenews shows how delusional our new pee-on-me-combover-n-chief is.

By-the-by. What is and what is NOT #fakenews? According to worst-writer:

  • it is that which is made up and unsubstantiated, usually from a blog or an angry ranter that posts krapp on the internet that ultimately has no meaning (see worstwriter.com)
  • it is NOT the krappy journalism that we’ve all been dealing with ever since the fourth estate became a corporate revenue stream.

And while I’m on a roll, allow me to move on with another worst-definition. What, for goodness sake, is a golden shower? Well, according to Frank Zappa’s song “Bobby Brown” it is an act of soul cleansing. Is it possible that Trump, since his humbling election, wants to clean his soul? (Sarcasm off.) I’ve always associated the concept of golden showers with Zappa because, well, the song Bobby Brown, since I can remember, always reminded me of Donald Trump. I wonder if that has anything to do with having seen Zappa in concert and not long after that having read Trump’s first book. A mind boggling association, eh? Yeah, the 80s were a trip.

Twitter was so awash with #goldenshowergate that I didn’t bother trying to figure out where the story came from–although that’s one of the first things I usually do when news catches my interest. I mean, come on, the 45th president of the united mistakes of #americant is already a batsh*t nutcase who’s been swinging it (yes, swinging that) since the 80s. Is it necessary to deal with his über-creepiness that is, literally, unmatched? I mean, it’s the creepiness that the electoral college voted for, right? Is anyone surprised that a guy like Donald Trump likes urine?

Wait.

Step back a sec.

According to Buzzfeed–and the dossier that I only glanced over–while in Moscow on a business trip, Trump hired a few women to pee on the same bed that Barry-O and his wife slept on when they visited Moscow. Trump had the bed peed on because, well, obviously, he hates Barry-O so much. Are you kidding me! What a great way to cover up (the) truth. I mean, extravagant story telling is what all closeted people do. Or? Wow. I guess, at this point, all I can say is: Thank you Buzzfeed–this is gonna be fun.

I also want to thank Buzzfeed for showing the world that the word Germaphobe has nothing to do with hating Germans. Now we can get on with the whole Mr. Pee-on-me thing. For example…

How did Howard Huges die? He died in a pile of his own shit. Seriously. And do you know what he was before he liked to swim around in his own shit? He was a germaphobe. The natural path of someone that goes batsh*t, i.e. delusional because of their wealth, stature, popularity, etc., is to continue either hiding or avoiding the reality of their deprived personality and/or massive character deficits. America is a country that has bred generation after generation of sexually repressed knuckle dragging grunts who are both rich and poor. The only way for most of these grunts to cope with the life they couldn’t choose is to live in it in fear. One way they deal with their fear, their phobias and paranoia is to stop shaking hands, avoid bodily contact (which makes their already repressed sexuality even worse) and, eventually, they even fear their own bodily functions. The effect this has on the mind–already weakened minds–is horrific. I suppose, for some, being a germaphobe and American in the 20th century (and  beyond) is akin to waking up in Sodom & Gomorra version 2.0. But get this. Once a Germaphobe goes completely overboard, he is also capable of realigning his fears. In fact, some of these nut cases learn to like and/or obsess over what they once feared. Hence… pee on me becomes sexual. But to hide the shame that society’s stigmas have they also learn crazy story telling. How many generations of men did this? Indeed. The salacious and lewd nature of #goldenshowergate is too much for even Sodom & Gomorra v 2.0. So the story telling, to cover up the disgusting truth, rewrites the part about who or what is actually peed on.

Your president likes to be peed on.

(I’m laughing so hard right now that I might have to see a doctor soon.)

Btw. There is another example of this type of batsh*t behaviour in stupid rich white men. Ever heard of John McAfee? He’s the numbnuts that put all that anti-virus software on the windows computer you bought in the 90s. He made a mint on that krapp! And while fighting his delusions (inner demons?) he might have been part of a conspiracy where his neighbour in Belize was killed. Would you believe that this guy was almost the libertarian candidate for president? While investigating who and what McAfee is, a documentarian found out that one of the his obsessions was to have women defecate in his mouth.

Welcome, fellow dipsh*t citizenry, to your Donald Trump America.

Rant on.

-t

Links that motivated this post:

Trump’s train wreck press conference | The Guardian
Trump blasts allegations | Buzzfeed
Bobby Brown (Going Down) | Lyrics
John McAfee accused of many things | The Daily Beast