Thursday, April 27, 2017

Cake Without Class

I know that I said I wasn't going to write about politics again this week, but Donald Trump isn't really politics, is he?  He's basically a branch of the entertainment industry.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: the man has no class.  Take his recent bombing of Syria.  What's the thing he focuses on when talking to the press about it: the casualties, the justification for the strike, the possible impact on relations with Russia and China?  No, it's the chocolate cake that he and the Chinese leader - who was on an official visit to the US - were eating at the time the missile strike occurred.  It wasn't just one passing mention of the cake, oh no.  He waxed lyrical about the bloody thing.  I don't care how good a chocolate cake it was, it was utterly irrelevant to the issue - you've just fired tomahawk cruise missiles at another sovereign state and all you can think of is a cake?  You are the president man!  Focus on the essential issues.  You didn't hear Obama go on about what he'd had for dessert when announcing the assassination of Osama bin Laden.  Obama had class.  Trump has none.

In fact, Trump is so lacking in class, I'm somewhat surprised that he doesn't take visiting foreign leaders to strip joints as part of his hospitality.  You can just imagine it, can't you?  A mortified looking Angela Merkel, for instance, looking on as Trump, Steve Bannon and Sean Spicer clap and cheer a stripper with huge jiggling breasts as she struts her stuff, sticking ten dollar bills down her underwear (he's probably also cheap, in addition to having no class).  Probably.she'd have a huge slice of chocolate cake slithering down between her breasts.  And you know what?  I can guarantee that the main thing Trump focused on would be that bloody cake.  Any normal heterosexual man would be transfixed by those jiggling breasts, not that cake.  (I'm sorry to break it to any ladies reading, but us blokes are very shallow: put us in a room with some naked women's breasts, juggling or not, and we'll just have to look.  In fact, they don't even need to be exposed - just a hint of cleavage is enough to entrance us.  I could guarantee that even a fat greedy bastard would look at the breasts first, cake second).   So, beware world leaders.  If you visit the US during the next four years, you are likely to find yourself in some sleazy strip joint, with some poor girl grinding her arse in your face (possibly with a huge slice of chocolate cake slipping down between her buttocks).

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