I start this blog post with a pain between my ears and a heavy heart. Or maybe I'm just sick to my stomach. I have tried to avoid hearing or seeing what The Donald is up to, but to my chagrin, he keeps sticking that wild swoosh of hair, out of the hole in the ground where he lives and spewing out some real tomfoolery. (That's polite talk for The Donald is a dip-shit.) He wants to be the leader of not just his own sizable empire, he wants to be the Imperial Galactic Czar. But since his starship is grounded, and will be until he gets his hands on a metric ton of dilithium crystals, he's going to throw a giant pile of American currency at a run for the presidency. Yee-haw! This little foray into the political sphincter muscle, is sure to provide hours of comedy gold. Not just 14kt gold, but 24kt, premium gold. The kind of gold that you can only get after careful purification processes.
I've been thinking; who possibly could be bat-shit-crazy enough to be The Donald's running mate? I eliminated Charlie Sheen right out of the gate. Yes, he is bat-shit-crazy enough but he also owns a comb. The Donald needs someone, whose own hairdo is so bad, so fucking horribly bad, that it makes The Donald's pile of cotton-candy-fluff-of-shit look good by comparison. The only person, with worse hair than The Donald's, is this guy:
But, he can't locate his birth certificate.
And so, after carefully thinking about it, I have found the perfect, bat-shit-crazy person to be The Donald's running mate... Without further ado, I give you the Republican Parties, sphincter-force-run-for-2012-dream-team:
I am happy to add that I got to sneak the word "sphincter" in twice.
