In my previous Carpe Diem, I came off as someone who was not easily given to forgiving. Actually, where I can, and where there is contrition and lack of evil intent, I prefer to be forgiving and merciful. But I must say that I never could, can, or will be able to find such feelings for the likes of Donald “BoneSpur” Trump. I won’t go into the reasons why because, if you have any human decency, you require no explanation.
But, if in the aftermath of Trump’s betrayal of the Kurds and his chest-thumping announcement of the special forces take out of al Bagdadi, you might require any reinforcement and reminder that our self-serving, scumbag chief of state doesn’t have a care for who pays the price for his reality show foreign-policy, I invite you to have a look at this. Thanks to Trump that little girl will never be in danger of bone spurs; you have to have legs for that.
I once called him “Il Douche”, and the more I see his face, the more his smug expressions remind me of Mussolini
An apt comparison. Now if he will only end up the same way: hanging upside down in a Milan gas station, or maybe from a Trump Hotel. That would wipe that smug smile off.
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