....a Presidential Fluke. With any luck, one day, we all might look back on this time in history and think to ourselves, "Thanks President Fluke for showing us how not to live." Point is; the hoard voted for him thinking that our future was just going to be another perfect day at the lake. Hot chicks, cold beer, and no work tomorrow. Who cares if the guy in charge of the horse-shoe pits is scoping out your daughter, while tweeting, "Man, did you see the tits on that little bitch!"

Ivanka twits back, "oh daddy you are so silly."

Rome did not fall in a day.

I think they just handed it to us the other day: the new King.

New king in town? Joker.
He never laughs, which is wierd anyway.

should catch on.

As long as I can breathe, I will never call him by his so-called official title. That implies acceptance and respect on my part, which does not exist. Any more than he accepts or respects me or anybody else. The cancerous carbuncle is an odious excuse for what is supposed to be a human being. Unfortunately the sob is everywhere (free advertising anybody?) and some name seems to be required. The Twitler is good, twitster works for me, too

And I hope something catches on... he needs to be treated like the bad joke he is...