Sunday, April 17, 2011

Apologies All Round

For some time now, in these essays and elsewhere,  whenever the occasion required a metonymy or metaphor to signify ‘The World’s Worst Human Being’, I have been writing -- in all innocence, and without malice aforethought -- "Donald Trump".  This, in quite the style  whereby you put Hercules when you mean ‘someone really strong’, or Goliath, for ‘someone really big’, or Achilles for ‘stone killer but who sulks in his tent’.    This stylistic flourish bore him no ill-will, for I never had the pleasure of meeting the man -- any more than we intend any disrespect towards the actual historical Ananias -- who, whatever has faults in the department of prevarication, may well have been an admirable family man, good with children and small animals -- when we use him as our Poster Liar.   For the fact is, I had been somehow under the impression that said Trump was, like the Pythonic parrot of legend, deceased, defunct, decomposing, dead as a doornail, six feet under, pushing up the dandelions -- that he was by now nothing but a filthy, stinking, rotting corpse, polluting unhallowed ground, his foul remains spurned even by the worms.

Yet now, to my intense dismay, I learn that said Trump is still aboveground, still stalking the planet, still casting a deep black shadow over all that is decent and good.  And not merely still undead and unburied -- but the #1 Presidential choice of the Teabaggers and birthers!
My deepest apologies to Trump’s flunkies;  please convey them to Mr. Trump.

[Update 28 Oct 2012]  Omigod, he's still undead!
Donald Trump's wretched $5-million gimmick,0,1723552.story
Here you can see him in a pink shirt, pink tie, fake hair, wild eyes, and lying out of his asshole.


  1. With all respect, if you post a blog that contains the phrase "Dom Perignon breasts" you might also increase your hits, and I can't even tell you what Dom Perignon breasts are. Gus

  2. We can't have a president with hair that bad. We just can't. It's just