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Trump Times March 7, 2017

Posted by guestposter in Uncategorized.
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Thanks to the person who forwarded this… the latest from Archon in the Southern Star!

In the old days, this newspaper kept a close eye on the antics of the Czar of Russia. Now, thanks to our strategically-placed informants, we can share info with you about President Donald Trump that no other media outlet in the entire world has published.
The Southern Star suspects it knows the reason for Trump’s temper tantrums, his whiny voice, shrugging shoulders, gratuitous insults, bullyboy unpredictability, rampant lawsuits, and thin-skinned, small-handed proclivity to aggression – including the dilemma of whether his hostility to liberal values (and indifference to Irish concerns) might point to some fiendish orange plot.
The origin of the surly sociopath’s ill temper is this: the poor man suffers from piles. Yes, haemorrhoids the size of Mexican grapefruits which throb like disco lights! Trump, you see, does not have a normal backside. And that’s a fact (well, perhaps an ‘alternative fact’!).
‘Some cheek!’ you might say. But being a family newspaper we will spare you the gory details. However, rumours in County Clare whisper of The Donald engaged in curious pelvic floor exercises during one of his visits to Doonbeg. These were apparently performed with the intention of strengthening his rectal muscles and keeping random veins in place, thereby alleviating his appalling haemorrhoidal agony.

The significance for this newspaper, and for the world of course, is the bearing that President Trump’s excruciatingly sore fundament has on international politics. To what extent, it is being asked by some governments (secretly and sotto-voce), do his piles account for his erratic and irrational decision-making and his notorious world-view?
And knowing, as The Southern Star does, that Trump’s battle with piles are at the heart of his major decisions and the reason for his tough talk, and locker room language (although of course some details remain obscure), should we not display a humane indulgence and a tender generosity towards him? Out of a sense of common decency.
After all, according to our sources, the day is coming when Trump will move (uncomfortably) in his chair, peer into the cameras, his eyes swivelling as he pulls that trademark face and announces to an astonished mankind: ‘And do you know, my arse is absolutely killing me!’
When that happens, attitudes towards him will change; have no doubt about that! Why? Because he’ll have won the sympathy of the Free World!
‘Get-well soon’ cards advising him to increase the amount of fibre in his diet will stack up outside the White House, and loving remedies will be offered. Such as the needle tipped one that emits radio-frequency energy to shrink the things and which won’t leave him incontinent – important for a President whose aquatic trysts with Moscow brassers lead to much speculation.

Others will advise him to take a course of laser beaming –a small bit painful- while millions of compassionate Americans will want him to try Tucks Medicated Tooling Pads that provide instant relief from burning and itching.
What’s certain is that once he confesses his embarrassing problem the benefits for him and for world politics will be huge.
We’ll have a smiling Trump, a happy Trump who no longer will make plans that endanger mankind.
His ideas on immigrants, the Mexican wall, the media, the Middle East, global warming etc, which belong in the toilet bowl where they originated, will be big hearted, and compassionate.
Politically he will be invincible.
And afterwards, wherever he’ll go, he’ll enjoy the joyful approval of fellow sufferers and be the beneficiary of thunderous ovations – standing ones, naturally, in the circumstances!
So let’s all get together and phone the White House to tell the President that, on this one, we’re all behind him – at a discreet distance, of course.

And now for something different: What’s the difference between a political fabrication and a lie? Nothing.
At least that’s the line taken by Dame Enda who, as accounts go, gave three different versions of discussions between himself and Minister Katherine Zappone concerning scurrilous accusations against Sgt Maurice McCabe.
But then, in the Dáil – that ever-babbling brook of endless lies – it is never the best policy to tell the truth unless, of course, you are a remarkably good political fabricator, like Enda, who on occasions just happens to stumble over the truth.
Bishop Lucey, in his penny catechism, preached that a lie is always sinful but such moralistic stuff is old hat in today’s political world; perhaps because the serious charge of misleading the Dail has never been taken seriously and rarely leads to a minister losing his portfolio, least of all that of a Taoiseach.
Indeed the point can be made that there wouldn’t be too many ministers left in the Dáil if they were forced to quit every time they told a brazen lie.
To make matters worse, there was something nauseous about Mickey Martin’s response to Kenny’s ‘fabrications’. Two weeks ago, Martin was on his soapbox, ranting about Sinn Féin’s unsuitability for government because of ‘the clear evidence of that party’s undemocratic nature.’ Usual garbage.
Yet Martin was not at all perturbed at the Taoiseach’s cavalier lack of interest in the truth when it came to the circumstances surrounding a whistleblower’s allegations, and certainly he did not consider the issue important enough to warrant pulling the plug on Kenny’s government.
What’s more his Leeside sidekick, Billy Kelleher, sounding for all the world like a two-bit politico from Fine Gael opined that he was confident the FG Government would survive.
Surely it is the function of the opposition, in this case Fianna Fáil, to hold the government to account – a procedure that Martin and his crew seem unable to do, or are unwilling to do. And that stinks!

All of which reminds us of these awful jokes:
Question: How can you tell when a politico is lying?
Answer: His lips are moving.
Or, what about this even worse one?
Question: Why aren’t there any rich ventriloquists?
Answer: Because all their puppets run for office.
(You’re fired! – Ed)

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