Remember last year about now when termed-out President Obama pardoned the national turkeys? He was taking part in a time-honored silly little rite that started with Pres. John F. Kennedy in 1963, a small act of kindness that was always played for cute charm.
Well, now. Don’t get used to it. If our Orange Overlord defies my resigning by Thanksgiving prediction (which, oddly, he is at present), don’t expect him to grace some dumb farm whites with a few months of mercy (the domesticated birds are bred for consumption, they don’t live very long into adulthood). He’ll be thinking of one thing, and one thing alone when he’s graced with the two birds: DINNER.
Think I’m kidding? Our Pumpkin-spice Potentate has been hedging on whether he wants to scrap Obama’s game trophy ban, because he’s afraid of offending his hunting-happy, rifle-hugging NRA base. Why, if he relented and kept Obama’s ban (among the few things he hasn’t contradicted or overturned), his poor dear sweet sons Uday and Qusay, er, Junior and Eric, would be denied their precious game hunting souvenirs, and that would be bigly bad, bad, believe me.
Mother of God. Could Robert Mueller please expedite the indictments and nail Junior Trump for his part in the Russian conspiracy and money laundering, already? C’mon, Bob. There’s room on your walls for Junior’s mounted head. GOFERIT!