In Search of Donald's Conscience — Make America Sane Again
Straight From Make America Sane Again Headquarters
No, Donald, Lucifer Is Not In My Contacts
Little Donny: A Child Of God Or --
The scene is in heaven. Three ethereal beings are sitting around the table. They are the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, and an angel named Angela
SP: "Look, did you understand the assignment?"
AA: "Yes, Sir, I just couldn't do it."
VM: "but ... he's only a baby! How could you not love a sweet little child of God?"
AA: "You'd have to be there to understand. You see, even at his young age, he thinks he's the son of God, begging your pardon, Ma'am."
VM: "No offense taken, my child. He could be related. After all, Jesus had a real way with the ladies."
SP: “Well, I'm with Mary on this. Being the conscience of a little baby should be easy. What could such a little one do wrong at only 6 months old?"
VM: "Don't be too hard on her Pete. This was her first assignment. I'll tell you what. I'll go down to earth with you, Angela, and maybe I can help you. Maybe the poor thing is just colicky.
The scene is the same. only it is two months later.
SP: "So, you are saying that an 8 month old baby --
VM: "...tried to kill Maria, his nanny. It's true."
SP: How could a weak little baby over-power an adult?"
AA: "He couldn't, sir. That's the only thing that saved her."
SP: "I can't believe God, begging your pardon, Ma'am, would unleash such a disaster on the earth. According to the book of the future, those poor Americans are going to elect him president in 2016."
VM: "Yes, and that's really too bad. But, I did find out one thing that might interest you."
SP: "What’s that?"
VM: " I figured out who his father is."
A Lullaby For Baby Donny
It's Enough to Make Me Wish I Was a Mule
And I Thought Pulling A Cart Was Hard!
So, the darn angel gives up and I have to step in. I don't know why Saint Peter thinks I'm best qualified for the job. I don't like the little bastard any more than the rest of the kids in his school.
I was minding my own business peeing on the new electric fence when I saw a flash of light. I didn't feel much, but the next thing I knew I was looking at my body on the ground, and flying way above the trees.
I came to in a field full of scrub brush and thistles. I didn't mind. My kind can eat just about anything. Besides, this stuff tasted a lot better than anything I could get on Earth.
St. Peter told me that I could earn the right to eat nothing but tender green grass for eternity, if I would take an assignment on earth to be the conscience of a little boy. My owner was a little boy, and he was always nice to me, so I figured the assignment wouldn't be that hard.
I liked kids, until I met Donny. Still, I was sure I could convince the little monster to at least read the 10 commandments, even if I couldn't convince him to follow any of them. Oh boy was I wrong! He wouldn't even accept them as suggestions, let alone anything that applied to his behavior.
It turned out that young Donald was a greedy little thing. He stole his brother's Halloween candy and told the little guy that the fairies had taken it. He said that the reason he suddenly had twice as much candy in his own bag was because he was such a good little boy that the fairies rewarded him. "Don't cry like a baby," he sneered, "I'll give you a piece of my candy if you clean up my room."
Then, another time he was supposed to help his Boy Scout troop collect money for the homeless. I'll give him credit. He went to every house in his neighborhood. He collected $1000. That would have been fine. None of the other boys collected that much money, and I was beginning to have some hope for the little jerk. But, he only turned $10 over to his Scout leader. When the leader said, "Donald, I'm sure you collected more than that. My own mother gave you $100." The little jerk denied it, and said, "You can't prove it."
He thinks he's a winner just because he'll do anything to come in first. He "won" a foot race at the county fair by tripping a little girl right as she was about to cross the finish line. He didn't care that she skinned her knees when she fell. All he cared about is that they couldn't prove what really happened, so they had to give him the trophy.
I decided to go back to heaven to see if anyone had any suggestions. They all basically told me to try harder. Donald was still young, and they were sure that I could get him on the right path if I worked at it.
I was pretty sure I couldn’t. But, I do like tender green grass, so I tried again. Eventually, I found I was missing my thistles.
"Why did you pick me for the stupid assignment? I've never done anything to you," I yelled at SP.
"Because, you're a jack ass, so I figured you and he already had a lot in common.
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And Humans Think WE Have Loose Morals!
Wow! This Guy Really Thinks He's Purrrrrfect
I didn't always get regular meals when I was on earth. But, to be honest with you, I preferred life on the street to living in a house with those two-legged types. I never got near humans, because although I heard that they might feed me and give me a warm place to sleep, they might also send me to this place called a "vet” and take all of the fun out of being a tomcat.
I made a stupid mistake before I died. I was chasing a pretty white female in the hope that we would make beautiful kittens together. 3 other guys were after her, so the competition was pretty fierce.
Well, I thought I would cut in front of the big gray tiger cat so that I would have the first chance to romance the lady. In fact, I was so intent on my mission that I didn't see the bus. It didn't see me, either, and I ended up here.
I was sitting in a window enjoying the sunshine when St. Peter came to call.
"How would you like a promotion?" he asked.
"What kind of promotion? I don't mind laying here in the sun having mice wait on me. As eternal rewards go, this one is pretty good."
"All right," sP smiled as wickedly as a saint can smile, "You have those nice big paws, and they indicate that another aspect of your catness could pleasure some celestial kitties. If you take the job, 20 of them will be at your service."
"As heavenly rewards go, that would be even better."
A few years with Donald made me wish I was back in my heavenly window. He out alley catted me by a long shot, and he wasn't very nice about it.
The difference between him and me is that I liked lady cats. If they weren't inviting me to make kittens, I could just hang out with them for the company.
Donald thought he was a gift to women. He was sure they all wanted him, even if they said, "not really". It didn't matter to him if they objected to being groped and slobbered over, Donald was sure they were just putting on a show. In Donald's mind, there wasn't anyone who could resist him.
I tried to talk Donald out of mistreating females, but it is an uphill battle. To be a functional conscience, you have to have a subject who knows right from wrong. Donald could never get that straight. Add to that the fact that he has the temper of a wasp and the attention span of a gnat, and maybe you can understand what I was up against.
Like the donkey and the angel, I came back up here for advice. SP stroked my back and sighed.
"I know you worked hard, and I have a good idea what you are up against. If you really don't want to continue on earth, you can have your window back. There is a beautiful calico up here who would be happy to share a pillow with a capable tom cat such as yourself."
So, there you have it. Sheba and I are happily populating heaven with beautiful baby pussy cats, and there isn't one of them that Donald Trump can grab.
Sing Along With Donny!
And People Call ME Vermin?
Sorry, We Tried To Stop Him, But The Republicans Got Confused And Nominated Him Anyway
I was cruising the Celestial Garbage Dump with a couple of buddies when Saint Peter came and asked us for help. He had this guy on earth who had no conscience. He wanted one of us to follow him around and try to keep him away from sin.
"Why would you want one of us? Rats are filthy, devious, sneaky and mean, and those are some of our better qualities," I reminded him.
"Precisely," SP said. "As bad as you are, he's worse. We're fighting fire with fire as it were."
"Yeah, but I don't see why you think we can get him on the path of righteousness when we're so far from being on it ourselves."
"I've long since given up on making him a good person. I just want you to keep him from being irredeemably evil."
"So, we can let him be rotten, and you don't care if we don't even try to make him feel guilty?"
"No, I don't expect the impossible."
"What do we get out of it? I mean, the celestial dump is much better than anything we had on earth."
"In your next life, you will become a weasel."
What's a weasel?"
"It's a little like a rat, only bigger and sneakier. It will do anything it wants to do, and if you ask it about it later, it will lie like a rug. If somebody else saw what it did, it will deny ever having seen the witness before in its life. In short, it's a lot like you guys, only worse."
"Well, yeah, it sounds tempting, but I'm pretty happy in this here dump. What else do you have?"
"How about all the ladies you could possibly want," SP suggested.
"We already have all the ladies we want. Why do you think there are so many of us?"
SP: "OK, how about this. You can stand around and watch while this Trump guy does all sorts of underhanded business. He'll never have second thoughts about the harm he does, and his real father can deal with him after he dies. Until then, I just want you to protect the world from a disaster he is going to cause in 2016.
Let him ruin individual people's lives to his heart's content. We can't stop him. But, for God's sake, give him qualms about becoming president. I'm afraid he will treat the United States like he has so many of his businesses and run it to the ground."
"Sounds like fun! Throw in a lifetime supply of gourmet cheese, and we're in."
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This Is My Rotten Son In Whom I Am Well Pleased
Wow! He's Even Exceeded My Expectations!
I'm so proud of my boy! He might even be more wicked than I am. He's a spot of goo off the old slimeball. Just look at his accomplishments! He has brought more misery to the world than Jack the Ripper did in his whole lifetime, and he's just getting started!
He has separated 5500 Central American children from their parents. That makes it so easy for me and my demons to give them nightmares. It's like the kid knew just how to make his old man's job a little easier and more fun.
He has shut down the government of the United States. That was great! People nearly lost their homes, and their precious monuments and national parks were nearly destroyed. That will teach those tree-hugging liberals.
Here's the kicker! He shut down the government so he could build a wall that mountain climbers couldn't climb and that no one can penetrate! Turns out mountain climbers thought they could easily climb it if any of them had ever been asked! What's even funnier is that smugglers have already cut holes in the impenetrable wall with tools from their local hardware store. They just slip the cut portion back in so they won't have to cut through anything the next time! What a great waste of taxpayer money!
He has managed to ignore the advice of the entire intelligence community of the United States. Those poor bastards thought that working for the State Department, the CIA and the FBI, gave them the right to advise my kid about national and foreign policy. Good lord! Did any of them ever own a beauty pageant or a reality show? thought not.
They don't know any more about running a business then Elmer Fudd does. After all, they seem to think that the kid should care about 3.4 million people he's never met, and with whom he's never done business. If they'd just follow him on Twitter, they'd know as much about the United States as Vladimir Putin does.
I think the rats almost kept their promise. I was afraid my boy wouldn't even get to run for president. But, not only did he run, but he became president by some quirk of the American's election system.
Now I have a direct line to him, and we can have all sorts of fun.
Worried that your kids are overweight? We'll fix that by taking away their school lunches.
Worried that you can't afford to treat your chronic disease? Don't be such a wuss. Take it like a man, woman or child, or whatever you are.
We're all sick of those whiny liberal types who think we should stop bombing Yemen. When a good oil-rich friend, like Saudi Arabia, wants to own another country, we should help. It doesn't matter whether their claim is just. We should loan them our military just because they can afford to pay for it. Business before humanity, that's what my boy always says.
In fact, we should do everything in our power to protect the United States oil supply, no matter who owns the sand above it. Good oil tanks make good politics. If Americans couldn't afford lots of oil, they might turn to public transportation, and then our ability to cause pollution would be compromised.
I think the funniest thing my kid did was deny that the United States has a big, fat pollution problem. He can't take all the credit. corporations have been poisoning water and air for over a hundred years. It's just that most people who have had my kid's job wimped out and tried to fight the dirt and corruption by demanding that some of the worst offenders clean up their mess.
My kid has a point. He probably won't be around when the sea rises and California burns to the ground. Who cares about children and grandchildren! Now we can finally find out what's under the polar ice caps!
If the American public is as dumb as my kid thinks they are, he'll have 5 more years to show how truly powerful greed and corruption can be. This will be great fun.
Well, it's been great talking to you. I have to go. My kid just woke up and he is ready to play on Twitter. I have to help him offend, confuse, destroy and lie. Bye! Bye!