Let me start with a simple ‘fuck you.’ Fuck you. And fuck everyone in your cabinet of horrors. And your vile children. And that plastic-surgery mess you call a wife. Your first two also.

Please eat. Keep eating. Put butter on everything. And more butter. And keep doing coke. And keep up the scat-play with the Russian hookers. Ignore that infection on your scalp; it will go away. You know, you’re President. You deserve to have lots of vigorous sex with Russian hookers. Do it. But have a big plate of friend chicken first. And lots of buttered biscuits. And do more coke. And more. And take Viagra. And ask one of the Russian hookers if she can score you some flakka. When you’re golfing, never walk the course. Always have someone drive you in a golf cart. Have you tried deep-fried Twinkies? Insist on them right now. Heat them up and butter them! Also, make one of your brain-damaged minions go out to Outback Steakhouse and return to the White House with a dozen Onion Blossoms. You and Bannon should each eat six, then you should snort coke off the bellies of Russian hookers. And then have vigorous, Viagra-fueled sex. You’re only supposed to take one Viagra capsule but take three–it’ll make the sex three times better. It’s best to swallow Viagra with a glass of buttermilk. Something about the enzymes making your penis more sensitive.

And to the ignorant trash who voted for you: Use the government assistance that you’re on to get spayed and neutered. Please. Remember: Neuter is Neater!

Fondly,

Mark-E

I’ve run out of things to say that can convey the depths of her trashiness. I was counting on you 😉

I loathe your poached lizard’s eyes. You’ve taught yourself to synchronize them but I just know they move independently when no one is looking. Which I wish was all the time. That red-clay mudslide of a neck…the dowager’s hump…the untended south-Georgia asphalt skin texture. That cartoon necktie down to your crotch. It’s how you find your dick, isn’t it? “Unzip and follow tie down to moist hairy place; search for little dangly bits.” They probably feel deceptively large because, well, those hands.

Donald, that great big navy blue awning you wear doesn’t fool a soul. Nothing on earth can hide your saggy man-tits and wraparound beef-gut.

Learn some new adjectives. Stop saying “vurry, vurry” (very, very). In fact, close that lamprey eel mouth of yours and shut up altogether.

Ah, that’s better.

DJ should win for rationale and Romeo for rage. They met the criteria spot on.

Dj – This really makes me wonder what he would choose to do if he faces prosecution or impeachment?