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Related: Editorials & Other Articles, Issue Forums, Alliance Forums, Region ForumsSome time after Trump took office (not elected),
I began to hope there is a literal HELL. That hope gets stronger every day. I have never really believed in hell no matter how many times I wish someone would go there.
handmade34
(22,756 posts)for DT would be to lose all his money (& become insignificant) and that is what I am hoping happens...
The Velveteen Ocelot
(115,732 posts)He's dead broke and living alone in a run-down double-wide in a seedy trailer park somewhere in, say, Nebraska, where it gets very hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and is susceptible to tornadoes. He spends his days sitting on the steps of his humble home drinking diet Pepsi, eating KFC and railing about the injustices done to him. He has become dangerously obese; his old clothes no longer fit so most of the time he wears XXX-L sweat pants and a stained wife-beater undershirt adorned with a six-foot-long red polyester necktie. Because he is no longer able to manage his hairdo, his fringe of stringy, now-gray hair hangs almost to his shoulders, revealing his shiny, blotchy scalp. His neck wattles obscure his actual neck almost entirely.
He is living off proceeds from the sale of some items of personal property that Melania missed when she cleaned out the New York apartment and took off for Slovenia; these included several sets of monogrammed gold cufflinks and a roomful of dictator-Baroque gilded chairs. He kept the throniest-looking chair to sit in at night while he watches Fox News on a small, very old tv with a coat hanger for an antenna, hoping Sean Hannity will mention him. He never does. Don Jr. sometimes writes to him from prison but the rest of his family is in Brazil, which does not have an extradition treaty with the U.S., and he hasn't heard from them in months.
He wonders what he will do when he has sold the last set of cufflinks. The pawn shop owner is not very generous, and the only collectors who might be interested are those unemployed neckbeards who live in their parents' basements and collect knockoff Nazi memorabilia.
Sometimes he waddles over to the neighbors' trash bins and pokes around in them with a stick, never with his little hands, hoping to find a copy of the New York Times or the Washington Post that might have an article about him. He wonders if Maggie Haberman still writes about him. Since his neighbors do not subscribe to these newspapers, he is able to imagine that his name still appears in them from time to time. Sometimes he finds uneaten French fries in the bins, which is a nice bonus when it happens, but most of the time the neighbors chase him away.
Nobody takes his calls any more.
PA Democrat
(13,225 posts)longship
(40,416 posts)There's a long line waiting for entry. Nobody's pushing on line and there are demons everywhere keeping things as orderly as possible given the circumstances.
The guy just in front of Drumpf gets to the gate and Drumpf overhears. Satan is there smiling.
He says to the guy, "Welcome to Hell. What will you have? Death? Or Chi-Chi?"
The guy pauses for a couple seconds and stutters out, "Ch-Chi-Chi!"
Satan responds, "Chi-Chi it is!" Whereupon the guy is stuffed into a small barrel, raped by rapid chimps, set on fire, flamingly rolled down a mountain and plunged into a lake of boiling shit, screaming all the way.
Satan next looks at Drump. "Welcome to Hell! What will it be? Death? Or Chi-Chi?"
Seeing how bad Chi-Chi is, Drumpf whimpers, "D-D-Death."
Satan grins, "Death it is! But first... Chi-Chi!"
A-Schwarzenegger
(15,596 posts)& no twitter.