It’s my worst fear and I hate to say it, but I’m beginnin’ to lose confidence that Mr. Trump knows how to start a proper war.
He’s not too bright and he only cares about himself, so for a nuclear trigger man you’d think he’d have everythin’ goin’ for him. I mean, what the hell?
He’s even got Johnny Bolton down there now givin’ him free moustache rides. You know he’s not gettin’ any from Melania, and that’s a crime against humanity. Eastern European ladies are highly prized for their moustache rides. And yet the poor man can’t even bomb straight.
Of course he could still prove me wrong and I’d be thrilled to pieces, but the clock’s a-tickin’ and we’re not all dead yet. What’s wrong with this picture?
Sure, I suppose if it comes to a real shootin’, nukin’ war, my heart’ll bleed for everybody sent packin’ to an early grave. But a long life’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.
You want to get up three times in the night just to pee, and on these knees? Be careful what ya wish for, boys and girls.
And this is bigger than just Syria now. This is about me and my needs, as a consumer of cable news.
So yes, that mad dog Assad’s gone too far and a line must be drawn in the sand, at least until I can figure out how to reconnect to Netflix.
So indulge an old fool and let me enjoy my goddamn war. I’m retired. I don’t even have to pick a side to cheer for if I don’t feel like, not since the Big Kahuna Ronnie Reagan put the kibosh on communism.
We’re here for a good time, not a long time, and it won’t get any gooder than the look on Wolf Blitzer’s face when the whole shebang goes to hell.
If you’re were hopin’ for a long life just think about that for two seconds.