Sure, in hindsight, maybe if Donny Trump hadn’t said or done nothing he’s ever done or said he’d have a better shot now at bein’ king of the free world.
But that would just make him a hypocrite – a stinkin’ Democrat in the eyes of God and decent Christians everywhere.
If he grabbed any girl’s whatnots we can be sure it was done in the privacy of her vagina.
Makin’ a public spectacle outta what was a private moment between, let’s assume, two adults, is just political corrrectness gone mad. It’s all been downhill for America since Maude.
If Trudeau hadn’t already embarrassed me, watchin’ America demand to smell Mr. Trump’s short fingers is enough to make me feel ashamed to live in country right next door.
Especially when nobody got more pussy than Jack Kennedy. Not even Elvis. It’s one of the perks of the office, bad back or no bad back.
Normal men don’t want to be president just so they can blow crap up.
After their first war it becomes grunt work and they just phone it in, like telemarketing for the Toronto Star.
No, a president has to bust a nut once in a while or all hell could break loose on a global, thermonuclear scale. That’s simply a fact of life in this perilous and sexy day and age.
And if Hillary gets in don’t tell me she won’t be cashin’ those chips. Expect taco Tuesday at the White House, seven days a week.
Trumpy could still pull it off. If there’s a Downton Abbey marathon on election day I bet that would put a dent in the women’s vote.
But who knows?
All bets are off in a world where a fella can win a Nobel Prize for writin’ Puff The Magic Dragon.