Maximum MAGA Reached!

Last week, I hit maximum MAGA capacity. I liken the feeling to the time during seventh grade when I was staring at a boy I thought was cute. Everything was going okay. I was  walking the perimeter of the basketball court with a group of friends, when I looked over and caught the eye of my pre-pubescent beloved. Our eyes met in what can only be described as an amorous embrace, the world stopped turning, birds sang, time froze, spontaneous fireworks exploded in the sky above us… And I walked directly into the basketball pole and fell on my ass.

Which ended up being a spot on metaphor for the next 20 years of my dating life. Also, in retrospect I’m pretty sure he was actually checking the time on the clock behind me, however that’s beside the point. The point is, I was moving along just fine and then…

Knocked silly and speechless on my ass.

Which is EXACTLY how I felt when Trump, or as I’ve taken to calling him – Three Mile Island in man form – managed to piss off Canada.

Do you know what a massive bag of dicks you have to be in order to get Canada riled up? This is the country whose “standoffs” consist of which person is going to out “polite” the other. If two Canadians approach a grocery line at the same time, they will literally stand there for days (DAYS) encouraging the other person to go first. And this isn’t limited to just supermarkets. It is their way of life. The average Canadian spends over five years of their life insisting that someone goes ahead of them in a line, because they’re THAT fucking nice. This is a fact. Google it. Five years of their life!

The point is, to piss off Canada you have to be a four alarm, Trumpster fire of blazing horse shit. Even I didn’t think Donnie was capable of that. Lesson learned.

Now the man who couldn’t negotiate a blow job if he was standing in a Nevada brothel with a pocket full of $100 dollar bills, has decided to go ahead and slap some tariffs on Canadian imports. Effectively pissing them off, screwing consumers on both sides of the border and simultaneously forcing the creators of “South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut” to add the disclaimer, “Based on a True Story” to the opening credits.

I’m sorry, but the only Canadian import that should be hit with a tariff is Justin Bieber. Justin Bieber… The poor man’s Justin Timberlake.

So anyway, that was the moment where I lost it. Maximum MAGA capacity hit. Boiling bunnies on a stove, crazy. Face first into a basketball pole, stunned. Think Jack Nicholson in “The Shining”, only a tad bit more unhinged. Also, boiling rabbits is Eric Trump’s favorite hobby. This is 100% true.

I curse like a trucker with Tourette Syndrome, and even I couldn’t manage to string together an adequate amount of expletives to do this level of “batshit” justice. Clearly, tweeting out my sentiments regarding Trump’s remarkable resemblance to a blob of despotic Crisco, that has been sprinkled with Putin’s pubic hair and left out in the sun to melt, was not going to cut it this time. And I had just enough sanity left to know that taking an ice-pick to my forehead in an attempt to self-lobotomize, would not end well for me.

On a side note, I’m pretty sure that’s why no one has seen the First Lady in three weeks. Self inflicted lobotomy. Can you really blame her?

Instead I wrote all of my coping skills down, and chose the top three for when my MAGA meter is reading, “Holy fucking shit, let me off of this monstrosity of a fascist merry-go-round”.

Number One:

Copious amounts of booze. Some would say that drinking is not a skill, however I disagree. I’ve spent years honing this talent.

Obviously Canadian Whiskey and tequila will no longer be affordable, but I have a sinking suspicion that Russian Vodka will be incredibly easy to come by. Of course, alcohol does not solve any problems, but neither does sobriety. Enough glasses of wine however, and you’ll be wondering how amazing it is that Trump came from the sperm that won. Can you imagine how cataclysmically awful the rest of those little fuckers had to be, if the guy that succeeded produced THAT bag of mashed up assholes.

So go ahead. Get shit faced, every now and then. We’ve earned it and you’ll probably have a good laugh. Because sperm is just, objectively funny.

 

Number Two:

Shut the shit off. This goes for social media and the 24 hour external combustion engine of fear machine, we call “news”.

If you shut everything off for just one day, yes you very well might wake up the next morning to find that the Department of Justice no longer exists, EVERY dog in the world has been shot for trophies by Demon Seed Jr and whatever the fuck the other ones name is and we’re now living in Gilead, but the 24 hours prior to that will be a restorative balm.

So don’t be afraid to unplug. Consistently watching us inch closer to the threshold of hell, will not stop our inevitable decent into it. You may as well take a break.

Number Three:

Find your people. Although you may feel as though this is one grandiose delusion, and that you’ll wake up to find yourself locked in a padded room, I promise you this is actually happening. The good news is, the vast majority of people realize just how nuts-o this shit is.

Find those people. They’re everywhere. I sat in a Lyft for an extra 15 minutes, laughing with the driver about the fact that Trump looks like an orangutan scrotum and Ivanka is the human equivalent of a participation trophy.

So allow yourself to engage. It helps take the edge off of the gas-lighting. And no one wants to be alone at the end of the world.

On a final note, to our good friends in Canada. We are sorry! Please don’t friend dump us. I know you want to block our FaceBook account right now, but I promise you we’d all rather have gonorrhea and head lice AT THE SAME TIME, than Trump as a president. We don’t want you as an enemy. You’re not even a “frenemy” like that passive aggressive floozy, Great Britain. That’s a FACT. The little bitch is uppity and we all know it.

But, Canada you are our BFF. And we’re counting on you to hold our hair back when we inevitably projectile vomit out the last of this MAGA shit sandwich, we’re currently being force fed. However until then, please take our keys away no matter how much we claim to be able to drive. We are clearly in no shape to get behind the wheel.