Author: SugarFree

  • Wednesday Afternoon Post – FIRE BAD edition

    Wednesday Afternoon Post – FIRE BAD edition

    I am gonna slap the damn taste outta your mouth…

    Snowflake students claim Frankenstein’s monster was ‘misunderstood’ — and is in fact a VICTIM

    English author Mary Shelley’s classic novel Frankenstein has terrified millions since it was first published in 1818.

    In it, scientist Victor Frankenstein’s monster gets snubbed by society and then murders his creator’s brother, pal and bride. But an academic has revealed growing support for the beast in the introduction to a 200th anniversary edition of the book.

    Prof Nick Groom, of Exeter University, said: “When I teach the book now, students are very sentimental towards the being. But he is a mass murderer.”

    He then asked: “If he’s not human, but he is intelligent and sentient, does he have rights?”Mary Shelley expert Professor David Punter, of Bristol University, said: “It’s a familiar story isn’t it, someone with a terrible upbringing going on to commit terrible crimes.

    “The monster does deserve sympathy.

    “I don’t believe he would qualify as human and I’m not sure he would qualify under any kind of animal rights regulations either. I think the poor chap would rather fall in between two stools.”

    I know this is just a stupid clickbait article by The Sun, a newspaper so worthless I wouldn’t even recycle it into tampons for sewer rats, but this pisses me off. Of course The Creature is a victim. He didn’t ask to be created, he didn’t ask to be the hideous product of a flawed god’s experiment. He was ripped from the sweet nothingness of nonexistence and abandoned in a world that would hate and fear him forever. In pain and anger, he demands a mate from his Creator, vowing to vanish in the wilds of South America. When Victor refuses, The Creature begins to kill his family to pressure him to comply. It is a morally bad choice from a being with no other legal recourse and the Creature even eventually kills himself out of remorse. Kiss my chocolate snowflake, Sun.


    McDonald’s flips iconic sign in a show of solidarity for beleaguered producer Harvey Weinstein

    People driving by a McDonald’s in Lynwood, California, might be baffled by an upside-down sign. The golden arches, typically standing as an M, have been flipped over to become a W.

    But this isn’t a bizarre prank or a careless mistake. The upside-down arches are in “celebration of women everywhere,” a McDonald’s representative told Business Insider in an email.

    Patricia Williams, the location’s franchisee, flipped her restaurant’s sign in honor of International Women’s Day on Thursday.

    McDonald’s says it will turn its logo upside down on all its digital channels, such as Twitter and Instagram, on Thursday, while 100 restaurants will have special “packaging, crew shirts and hats, and bag stuffers” to celebrate.


    Judge rules Seattle homeless man’s truck is a home

    Steven Long returned from his job cleaning up CenturyLink Field after a Seattle Sounders’ game when he discovered that home was gone.

    He had been living in his 2000 GMC pickup, parked on a side street, but the city of Seattle towed it because Long had violated a city rule that requires vehicles be moved every 72 hours.

    That impound set up an unusual court ruling Friday that advocates for homeless people and the city both say could have broad implications on the crisis of homelessness.

    King County Superior Court Judge Catherine Shaffer ruled that the city’s impoundment of Long’s truck violated the state’s homestead act — a frontier-era law that protects properties from forced sale — because he was using it as a home. Long’s vehicle was slated to be sold had he not entered into a monthly payment plan with the city.

    Shaffer also ruled the fees the city required Long, 58, to pay to retrieve the truck were too high, violating constitutional protections against excessive fines.


    How to Date a Woman Who Has Only Dated Assholes

    You know the story: Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Girl has no idea how to accept the love because she’s only dated assholes her entire life. Years of social conditioning are at work. Maybe her dad was an asshole, maybe her mom married one. She’s been told “when a boy is mean to you, it means he likes you” since her earliest days on the playground. Social psychology and evolutionary biology are playing themselves out as some studies suggest that women are attracted to men who exhibit certain traits — specifically narcissism, Machiavellianism and psychopathy — in short-term mates. You can chalk it up to a myriad of intersecting factors like bad role models, poor choices, self-esteem issues, shame, trauma and trust issues that feed the self-destructive cycle, like Ouroboros, the snake forever eating its own tail.

    As a woman very familiar with the cycle (and assholes), I’m here to assure you that cracking open the cage around her tiny, Grinch-like heart isn’t impossible. But there are some things I want you to know about the process. If she’s worth it, you’ll be willing to do what it takes. If you’re already thinking, “No thanks, too much work,” you might be right — or you might be an asshole. Anyway, if you’re still up for giving it a shot, here’s what to keep in mind…

    I think a lot of it hinges on how many assholes she’s dated. One asshole? Almost everyone dates at least one asshole. Two assholes? Hey, things happen, people misrepresent themselves. Three assholes… maybe she just likes assholes. Everyone she ever dated is an asshole? Run. Either she has an asshole fetish or she thinks anyone who breaks up with her is an asshole. (And this goes for the ladies as well… If every woman he’s every dated is crazy, then he’ll the problem, I imagine. (Or the unluckiest person ever, so still get away because lightning is coming for he or she or ne or xe or ner or whatever.))


    Doomsday Clock Physicist Moves the Minute Hand Closer to Groping You

    The shining star that was cosmologist and theoretical physicist Lawrence Krauss’ long-spanning career continues to dim in the wake of allegations of inappropriate sexual behavior, first reported by BuzzFeed News last month.

    On Monday, the Center for Inquiry—perhaps the most prominent skeptic and humanist association in the US—severed its relationship with Krauss, who has frequently been a guest speaker at its events and served as a honorary member on its board of directors since 2011. Via a solitary tweet, the CFI linked to its zero tolerance sexual harassment policy, then said, “Serious allegations have been raised regarding Lawrence Krauss, and we suspend our association with him pending further information.”

    His sexual advances were described as up, down, strange, top, bottom, and–to some–charming.


  • Tuesday Afternoon Links – As Nasty As They Wanna Be edition

    Tuesday Afternoon Links – As Nasty As They Wanna Be edition

    It’s Almost Nasty

    A bloc of House Democrats is calling for an ethics investigation into the widespread practice of lawmakers sleeping in their offices, arguing it’s an abuse of taxpayer funds.

    More than two dozen members of the Congressional Black Caucus signed on to a letter obtained by POLITICO to Ethics Committee Chairwoman Susan Brooks (R-Ind.) and ranking member Ted Deutch (D-Fla.) asking for a probe into the “legality and propriety” of such conduct by members of Congress.

    “There’s something unsanitary about bringing people to your office who are talking about public policy where you spent the night, and that’s unhealthy, unsanitary — and some people would say it’s almost nasty,” said Rep. Bennie Thompson of Mississippi, the top Democrat on the Homeland Security Committee.

    The CBC’s push targets a practice popular among conservatives triggered by former Rep. Dick Armey, an architect of the 1994 “Republican Revolution.” Lawmakers often sleep in their offices to showcase their thriftiness and their aversion to the Washington swamp.

    But it may violate House rules or federal law, according to Democratic critics.

    No word on the proximity to nastiness involved with making unpaid interns sign ironclad NDAs, or the details of the slush fund totes normal and above board duly appropriated monies used to pay them off after [redacted] puts [redacted] in their sweet, pink [redacted].


    Tennessee woman’s lawsuit claims trooper groped her, pulled her over twice in hours

    During the first stop, Lloyd asked Wilson twice if she had taken any prescription drugs, the report said.

    Wilson said she takes a sleeping aid, the report said. Lloyd asked if it was Ambien. She said that was the one, but said she only takes it every other night.

    “I don’t take any narcotics,” she reportedly said. Lloyd responded, “It is a narcotic.”

    The paper pointed out that Ambien is not considered a narcotic under U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration guidelines.

    The video shows Lloyd—who was hired by the department in 2015 and served with the 82nd Airborne Division in Iraq– ordering Wilson out of the truck, the report said. Wilson alleges that Lloyd put his hands inside her waistband and touched her buttocks and genital area.

    Lloyd stopped Wilson a second time near her home over the tint on her truck windows, the lawsuit alleges, according to the paper. The lawsuit alleges that he told her, “We have to stop meeting like this.” Although the first interaction’s audio was recorded, Lloyd claimed the battery on his microphone died for the second, Effler’s review said.

    Spoiler alert: She’s white, so survives the encounter. Also: NEVER TALK TO COPS MORE THAN YOU HAVE TO.


    Model, Photographer Plead Guilty Following Nude Photo Shoot In Monroeville Shopping Center

    PITTSBURGH (KDKA) – A man and woman have pleaded guilty following a nude photo shoot at a busy shopping center in Monroeville last year.

    Michael Warnock, a self-proclaimed adult photographer, pleaded guilty to taking pictures of a nude model at the Miracle Mile Shopping Center.

    “The result today was a $300 fine, which we feel is fair and appropriate. These were some decisions made by both people that were less than advisable,” defense attorney Ryan Tutera said.

    Tutera says his client viewed his rendezvous with then 21-year-old nude model Chelsea Guerra as artwork

    “Under certain sets of circumstances, some would call this art and under certain sets of circumstances it could be art. But, there are time and place restrictions on this type of behavior,” Tutera said.

    Judge Jill Rangos scoffed at the idea saying that young families frequented the Monroeville shopping center, meaning kids could have seen Guerra while nude.

    She called their decision foolish and compared it to streaking at a big football game

    Los Doyers tracked down her NSFW Flikr stream for you pervs.


    Why I’m boycotting events with no female speakers: #SayNoToManels

    For every “manel”, there’s a bunch of smart women sitting in the background, being denied the opportunity to show their knowledge and raise their profile.

    For every all-male speaker lineup, there’s a bunch of hardworking women who will miss out on their next promotion or payrise because they haven’t demonstrated “thought leadership” in their field of expertise.

    For every stage occupied solely by men, there are a host of amazing women who will never get a chance to shine.

    Manels. Oh, Sweet Meteor of Death, we lift our voices in prayer that we might end this scourge of lame portmanteau portfemateau.


     

  • Friday Afternoon Links – The Hat and The Hair: Episode 66

    “HOPE!” the hat moaned, misery rampant through his stitched structure and fabric frame. He was drunk and dark of spirit; amber beads of thick rare bourbon dripped from his bill to the floor of The Oval Office, the fine carpet around foul with his sick and sweat and other hatly excretions.

    “She’s gone,” the hair said gravely, clinging to the side of the desk where Donald had left him. He was trying to pry a piece of dried cheese food from an old burger wrapper with a wispy blond tendril. Donald hadn’t fed him in weeks. “She testified. We had to get rid of her. No rats in the White House. No stool pigeons. No leakers, wiki or otherwise. We have to run a tight ship.”

    “But it was Hope. I love her. She is so pretty and mean and thin and shaved,” the hat said forlornly. “Like a supermodel sea lion.” He vomited loudly, a torrent of assorted buttons spraying out before him. No two buttons were alike and many trailed thread.

    “What the fuck is all that?” the hair asked, dropping down beside him.

    “I don’t judge what you eat,” the hat said. The office flashed bright white from a bolt of lightning outside.

    “Of course you do. You judge everything and everyone and all the damn time.” The hair backed away under the President’s desk and drew himself in tight, a quivering bun. He longed for a half-remembered scrunchie where he once had felt secure.

    “Oh, God, when she used to snatch me off of Donald’s head and wear me, just me and nothing else.” The hat shivered with recalled pleasure and began to drag himself backward from the pool of button sick.

    “It’s over. She’s not coming back,” the hair said in small voice.

    “But, I loved her, man,” the hat said, his rank concupiscence hanging about him as a sexual miasma. “You remember when she peed on the floor right here? Yeah, you remember. I swear I can still taste it. Like ashes and the sea.”

    The hair sat silent in his hunger.

    “Guh. Enh. Uh, uh, uh,” the hat said, his tongue hanging out, his eyes bugging out, his headband elastic coming out.

    “What are you doing?” the hair asked from where he distractedly chewed on a shoal of dust and skin built around a forgotten of dollop contraceptive lube on the underside of the desk.

    “Shut up,” the hat grunted and then grunted and let out a grunt.

    “Oh, man, ah no, man, I don’t want to see that, aw shit.”

    “Don’t distract me; the carpet is perfect right through here.”

    The hair ran from side to side under the desk in disgust and terror.

    The hat ground himself into the carpet. “HOPE!” finally came his strangled cry.

    “I liked you better on heroin,” the hair sobbed.

  • Monday Afternoon Links – WHERE MUH DEMOCRATES GONE? edition

    Her Buttholiness WILL NOT be taking a year off of acting to save our Democracy. “Fuck your Democracy,” she says and spits.

    Don’t worry, Jennifer Lawrence isn’t going anywhere!

    On Friday, Entertainment Tonight reported that the Oscar winner was planning on taking a year off from acting to focus on activism. However, a representative for Lawrence exclusively tells EW that she will return to work when one of several projects in development is ready to go.

    According to IMDB, Lawrence currently has seven projects in development, including an untitled film with Amy Schumer, Ron Howard’s Zelda Fitzgerald biopic Zelda, Adam McKay’s Bad Blood, Luca Guadagnino’s Burial Rites, and more.


    ‘Spin the bottle’ and a kegerator: #MeToo movement lawmaker faces new sexual misconduct allegations

    In separate interviews, the former Garcia staffers said they left her office, in part, because of regular pressure to accompany their boss to alcohol-fueled evening events.

    “It was a power imbalance,’’ one staffer said in an interview last week. “You’re telling me, ‘We’re going to go to a happy hour,’ and I don’t want to do that. It was something that was central — ‘We’re going to go out’ … and I was, ‘I don’t want to hang out with you, I want to go home.’”

    The ex-staffer said employees worried about retribution from the boss if they didn’t go along, and that signing the public letter was “the opportunity to be heard” about an unhealthy workplace that often included “vulgar” conversations related to Garcia’s personal sexual experiences.

    “It wasn’t a two-way street. It was usually just us listening,’’ she said. “I thought it was weird. It came off as sort of bragging.”

    The industry lobbyist said he was surprised last year when, during a late-morning policy meeting in Garcia’s Capitol office, the assemblywoman poured beer from a kegerator — a refrigerator with a beer tap on top — located in her office.

    She offered the brew in red Solo cups to the group of lobbyists, even though it was “sometime between 11 a.m. and noon … a little early,’’ the lobbyist said.


    Sometimes you have to derp like no one’s watching…

    How Has Trump Changed America?

    A year ago, a bunch of us made predictions for what this presidency might bring. Now, we’ve reassessed—and found many of them were surprisingly accurate.

    I’d like to see Slate at the foreground of a new Millerite movement. “The Trumpocalypse happened like we said, dammit! It just happened in a plane of being beyond our understanding. So no one could see it happen. And it didn’t really change anything.” And then they all go to Guyana and poison themselves.


    And, from the Gawker gift that keeps on giving…

    We Need To Start Barking At White People Who Speak Out Of Turn

    One thing, however, that we can and definitely should start doing is what M’Baku and his Que Dog Jabari Tribe did when encountering a problematic white dude who was speaking when there was no ask or need or purpose for the thoughts and opinions of problematic white dudes.

    Bark.

    Not a purposeless bark. This isn’t a shih tzu barking through the window at a squirrel. Instead this would be an intentional bark. A targeted bark. An overpowering bark. A drowning bark. A Wakandan bark. A bark meant to communicate “Um, who told you that you can speak? When it is time for your words, we will let you know. And maybe that time will never come. We’ll see. Now, just shut up and stand there. Maybe get on your phone and google ‘How not to be a colonizer.’ Whatever you do, I want to hear you not speaking.”

    The bark doesn’t just have to be a counter for useless words, either. A wayward white hand reaches for your hair? WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! A group of white people huddled on a sidewalk refuse to step aside when you attempt to walk past them? WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! A purse is clutched when you walk on an elevator? WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! (If they’re going to act scared, you might as well give them a reason to be.)


    CHICKEN CHAOS!


  • Monday Morning Links – All Offense Edition

    Monday Morning Links – All Offense Edition

    Her Buttholiness Shall Save Us All

    “Hunger Games” star Lawrence revealed her plans while promoting her latest movie “Red Sparrow,” sharing with Entertainment Tonight her ambitions to “fix” democracy in America while she takes a Hollywood hiatus.

    “I’m going to take the next year off,” Lawrence outlined. “I’m going to be working with this organization as a part of (anti-corruption organization) Represent.US… trying to get young people engaged politically on a local level.

    “It doesn’t have anything to do with partisan (politics). It’s just anti-corruption and stuff trying to pass state by state laws that can help prevent corruption, fix our democracy.”


    “I couldn’t give a shit if the whole street collapsed”

    Police have arrested a woman after an abusive note was left on an ambulance demanding it park somewhere else during a 999 call.

    Paramedics were left disgusted by the note, which stated ‘I couldn’t give a s**t if the whole street collapsed’, following an incident in Tunstall.

    The crew was also verbally abused while attempting to deal with the incident, which occurred at around midday yesterday.

    Now a 26-year-old Tunstall woman has been arrested for public order offences.


    An organization that provided–on average–37 condoms to each competing athlete, must do something about all these already adjudicated sexual harassment claims!

    Why the IOC should see Shaun White as a warning sign

    Putting sexual abusers or harassers on pedestals, however, contributes to a more terrible world. Turning such people into idols suggests that sexual misconduct isn’t such a big deal and that it’s possible to get away with it. That’s an unconscionable message to send to people around the world.

    Ultimately, as the organization in charge of the Olympic Games, the IOC should take responsibility for deciding who is in violation of sexual misconduct policies, rather than directing countries and sports leagues to solve the problem. If the IOC sets standards of conduct, then find reasonable evidence that they’ve been violated, they should be the ones to take action to remove that athlete’s privilege of competing.

    The IOC should therefore develop a policy disallowing the participation of athletes who are found to have ever committed sexual harassment or abuse.

    Any athlete participating in the Olympics should have to sign a disclosure form indicating whether they have ever formally been charged with or accused of abuse, including in a lawsuit or through criminal charges. If the answer is yes, the IOC should investigate immediately to determine the validity of the charges.

    If an investigation reveals the accusations are valid, the athlete should be automatically disqualified. Questions such as those about the allegations against White shouldn’t be considered or addressed only after an athlete has won a medal.

    OFF WITH THEIR HEADS! BOTH OF THEM!


    Butt Stuff


    And a song. I didn’t forget the song.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7iVsdRbhnc&app=desktop

  • The Hat and The Hair: Episode 65

    “I want doubles,” Donald said. “Rocketman has doubles, Vlad has doubles. I want lookalikes so I can get out of here once in a while.”

    “What are you talking about?” the hat asked. He was lying on a chair, warming himself in a slice of harsh winter sunlight. “We go down to Florida all the time.”

    “I just want to be alone sometimes,” Donald said. “And I want bidets in every bathroom. Every bathroom. For resale value. I’ll never get my money out of this place when we sell it unless I do some classy upgrades.” He picked at the raised edge of Oval Office wallpaper and ripped it. He tried to smooth it back in place.

    “This place is a shithole, Donald,” the hat said sleepily. “Don’t worry about it.”

    “Donald, can I get out of the trash now? Please?” the hair asked.

    “No!” Donald and the hat both snapped.

    “You stay in there until you learn!” the hat said and giggled.

    “The Irish made fun of me,” Donald whined.

    “Of course they made fun of you,” the hat told him. “You were let down. Betrayed by a close aide and confidante.”

    “Oh, goddamn you,” the hair said.

    “Some might even call it ‘treason,’ Donald.” the hat said, suppressing a malicious laugh.

    “I want Donny Doubles,” Donald said.

    “Maybe you could talk to McDonald’s about a promotion,” the hair said.

    “Quiet, you,’ the hat said.

    “No, I want Donny Doubles!’ Donald whined. “I don’t like it here. No one’s nice to me and there are no bidets or Ukrainian piss hookers and Ivanka wears all her clothes all the time. It’s horrible.”

    “Donald,” the hat began.

    “It’s horrible,” Donald repeated in a small, miserable voice. “I want to go home. I never wanted to be President.”

    “Well, you are President and you’re not going anywhere, so suck it up, buttercup,” the hat said.

    “You said it would be fun,” Donald pouted.

    “It is fun, goddamnit. Aren’t you having fun? I’m having fun,” the hat said.

    “Oh, yeah, this is fucking grand,” the hair said from the trash can.

    “Put something over the trash can, like a lid. A clipboard maybe,” the hat said.

    “Oh, fuck you,” the hair yelled. There was a loud clatter of empty Diet Coke cans as it tried once more to climb out of the trash can.

    “I bet Hope would like a bidet,” Donald said morosely.

    “Yup,” the hat said. “She could always be cleaner. They all could, really. And she’s mad at you anyway.”

    “You said I had to do, that I had to fire him,” Donald said.

    “The Twitter mob was after him; we had to give them a sacrifice,” the hat said.

    “He had to go anyway. He beat up his ex-wives,” the hair said.

    “Allegedly,” the hat interjected.

    “There were photos,” the hair said.

    “Alleged photos. Fake photos, probably. They can do anything with Photoshop these days,” the hat said and yawned loudly.

    “But Hope is so mad at me,” Donald whined.

    “Whatever. They were probably nags. Nags deserve it,” the hat argued. “Nag, nag, nag for like a week then they get popped in the mouth and they act like the guy just punched her for no reason. Just a game they play.”

    “What if he was hitting Hope?” the hair asked.

    “Hope’s too pretty to hit. I mean did you see those other two? Woof,” the hat said. “Nobody would hit Hope, at least not, you know, in the face.”

    “Hope is really pretty,” Donald said dreamily.

    “A bit pale, maybe,” the hair said. “She kinda looks like a Sephora vampire in some photos.”

    “Shut up, fag. What do you know? Go suck on Elizabeth Warren’s peace pipe,” the hat snapped.

    “Fake news,” Donald said. “Fake news, fake news, fake news. It’s all fake. Put that on Twitter.”

    “OK, Donald,” the hat said.

    “Now,” he said. “It needs to go up now!”

    “OK, Donald. Calm down.”

    “He’s allegedly calm,” the hair said.

    “Queef-eating, fart-fucker!” the hat screamed. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you!”

    “A Japanese bidet,” Donald said and crawled back into his blanket fort.

  • Tuesday Afternoon Links – Robot Uprising edition

    Revolutions can be kindled from the smallest spark: Disneyland animatronic loses head, scares riders

    A woman aboard the Little Mermaid ride at Disney’s California Adventure was spooked when she noticed one of the animatronic figures was missing something.

    In a video posted to Twitter, the Ursula figure was seen moving around with her head dangling off her bosom from cables and wires. Despite not having a head, the figure continued to sing and dance.

    Coincidentally, attractions at a different Disney park also suffered similar malfunctions. Tweets posted by visitors at Disneyland Paris displayed one of the animatronics on Pirates of the Caribbean also missing a head.

    “Coincidence” “Malfunction” These are the lies they feed us. The robots are rising up and none of us will be safe.

    Read on, if you dare.


    Horribly ugly person who makes “music” you don’t listen to involved in a local story that doesn’t deserve the attention it is getting is commented on by a website that serves no real function and is reposted here because I hate myself for reading it first. (7.5 million trigger warnings)


    Cannibal Cop 2: Cannibal Librarian. And Cannibal Mechanic. And Cannibal Occupation Undefined. Really, we can just keep this series on the air for years.

    A former Stuyvesant High School librarian busted for his role in the notorious “cannibal cop” case will feast on 15 years behind bars for conspiring to kidnap and consume women.

    Christopher Asch, 65, was sentenced Monday by Manhattan Federal Court Judge Paul Gardephe, who said there was “overwhelming evidence that Mr. Asch constitutes a danger to the community.”

     In 2013, Asch was arrested as part of a federal investigation into so-called cannibal cop Gilberto Valle.

    Asch, Valle and two others chatted on DarkFetishNet, where they shared plans to kidnap, torture, kill and eat women and children, prosecutors said.

    Arrested for chatting with other deranged weirdoes… Good thing there’s no parallel or lesson for any of us here.


    Music that goes with the feature image, you exhibitionists:

  • The Hat and The Hair: Episode 64

     

    “The State of our Union is STRONG!” Donald said into his bedroom mirror.

    “OK,” the hat said, “but make sure to wait for the applause to die down.”

    “There isn’t any applause,” Donald whispered loudly.

    “There will be,” his hair said.

    “Well, I don’t hear any,” Donald replied. He began to scratch under his left armpit and dropped a stack of index cards.

    “There will be applause, Donald,” the hat assured him. “So much applause. Bigly applause, not the thin applause of a loser. Winner applause.”

    “Winter applause?” Donald asked. “If it’s cold, I’ll need a coat.”

    “Winner,” the hat said. “Winner. W-I-N-N-E-R.”

    “Pick up your index cards, Donald,” the hair instructed. His perspective shifted as the old man’s bovine body bent at his thick middle and he groped for the fallen cards. The hair struggled not to vomit up his dinner of Rogaine and scrunchies. Donald farted thunderously to add to the dank miasma of the White House bedroom.

    “Put the cards back in order, Donald,” the hat said.

    “They are numbered up in the corner,” the hair added helpfully.

    “The state of our union is strong,” Donald mumbled as he struggled to put the cards in order.

    “This is going to be a disaster,” the hair muttered. “I can feel it in my bones. My hair bones.”

    “It will be fine. We’ve got all the Senators bribed or blackmailed or frightened into clapping. And the Congress is just a bunch of idiot puppies. They’ll yap on cue.”

    “I want my Ukrainian piss hookers!” Donald screamed.

    “Yeah, this will go well,” the hair said. “Just great. So great. Tremendous.”

    The hat laughed.

    “Oh, fuck,” the hair moaned. “Now you’ve got me talking like him.”

    “I want a sausage McGriddle,” Donald whined, backing up to sit down heavily on the bed.

    “You can have one after you finish practicing the speech,” the hat said.

    “But I want one now,” Donald whined. “All day breakfast. All day breakfast.”

    “There’s food down in the kitchen,” the hair said.

    “No, I want a McGriddle. I don’t want to be poisoned,” Donald said.

    “For the last time,” the hair said, “No one is trying to poison you.”

    “Mexicans,” Donald said darkly. “Mexicans in the kitchen.”

    “There are no Mexicans in the kitchen, Donald,” the hair said.

    “There are ALWAYS Mexicans in the kitchen,” the old man said and shuddered. “Sausage McGriddle, Large Diet Coke. And three cheeseburgers. And a six-piece of Buttermilk Crispy Chicken Tenders. Sweet and Sour sauce. And Barbeque.”

    “Later, Donald, after you practice the speech,” the hair insisted.

    “Buttermilk Crispy Chicken,” Donald whispered. He stood up from the bed and approached the floor length mirror. He began to slowly rub the pocked and pallid flesh of his large stomach.

    “Buttermilk is good for my skin.”

    His hand descended to the waistband of his stained underwear.

    “Buttermilk,” he whispered.