“Never look up a dead horse’s ass”, as my grandfather used to say. That always brought a long pause to the conversation as people worked through the implications of that, abandoned visualizing it, and then became lost in the quest for a reason to even consider it. My grandfather was a font of wisdom from some other place that would spring up in complete irrelevance to the conversation. All of my life I’ve wondered what it meant. Now I know. He saw Trump in the future and was warning us of what to expect.
There is absolutely nothing there of any value except putrefaction and some very foul aging shit. And anyone you found in there would be exactly the same. I mean, think about it, why would you want to associate with anyone who you found resident in a dead horse’s ass. The metaphorical accuracy of this is astounding. In fact it is hard to look at Trump now (yes, I know that’s disgusting anyway) without seeing a dead horse’s flaccid asshole. I’m sorry. The deed is done. I’ve been living with this for some time and now you can live with it, too.
On a positive note this definitely puts things in context. It’s actually possible to spend time working through the coterie of Trump scum and place them in a number of possible graphical forms. I think Roy Moore was born there, if not he should have been. Many women in Alabama would have been spared the horror of Roy Moore trying to corner them in a mall or at the Old Hickory restaurant when he wasn’t trying to show the waitresses what they really wanted in his dreams.
The small Trumps are clearly pieces of shit from the old . . . no, I’m not going there. It all reveals itself in stunning clarity. Suddenly the reason for the sole expression that you see on Sarah Huckabee Sanders’ face, as if she just discovered she was holding something she really, really didn’t want to touch, now makes sense. I don’t know what it is but I certainly know where it came from. And it would be even worse trying to put it back. I’m afraid she will go to her grave now with that expression permanently on her face. My god, that’s all of us! How can we ever escape the rotting anal image of Trump?
No wonder the European and Asian tourists I see now have looks of revulsion and pity. America is not clean but it should be seen before it goes away. The sick fascination tour of the dead horse’s ass. Where is a really sleazy metal band when you need them? Singing to a dead horse’s ass on stage. Wait! It’s Duterte. Damn, he already did it. Now that’s one sick puppy.
At least there is now no way that Trump or any of his ilk can be taken as anything but a sick joke. And my grandfather saw it many years ago. Wow, thank you. But we didn’t listen.