Caligutard on Staggering Bender as World Descends into Bankrupt Anarchy
Pathetic imbecile Caligutard is spending his last days as president in a state of alcoholic stupor, grabbing at the juice like the self-pitying, self-deluded sackless bag of emu shit he is, all the while cackling in twisted delight at the unfolding chaos around him. The repellent weasel-faced sadist is, however, such a bundle of righteous self-hatred it’s hard to interpret what set up this latest exhibition of public drunkeness.
Could it be he is burdened by some sense of responsibility for leading America to its doom, cratering the world economy and driving all of western civilization to cannibal anarchy? Nah. Down deep, he loves inflicting pain, death and destruction and, like all Republicans, he wants to feast on human flesh, the poorer and more desperate the victim, the better.
Could it be he is feeling the rejection of the entire world’s leaders, who regard him as an completely fuckwitted, worthless and incompetent orangutan? During the APEC meeting in Lima, world leaders leapt away from the Caligutard like a sneezing plague carrier. You have to check out this film of the APEC leaders strolling out for a group photograph. Presidents and prime minsters were running from him as if chunks of shit were falling out of his pants legs like a homeless alcoholic in the last throes of demented incontinence. It’s royally emetogenic.
No, medicating a sense of rejection isn’t probably it either. Deep down, he digs it. He is a pariah, a destroyer of worlds completely devoid of the need to do anything right. His sense of wanton entitlement is vast beyond all human comprehension. Handed the world on a silver tray, he throws it to the floor and stomps it. Caligutard’s hatred of humanity is so deep, so psychopathic that he swoons at being able to disgust and repulse the leaders of the civilized world.
Could it be he is simply relieved not to have to pretend he gives a flying fuck about fucking Jesus and listen to snakehandlers raving and pretending he is dry when in fact he spends every waking moment thinking about getting some juice down his throat, the sore cracked feeling haunting him as he drifts through the day, barking the platitudes and meaningless catch phrases Cheney told him to memorize, losing to Barney at checkers, listening to the press corps ask questions they expect him to understand and fielding calls from his dad calling him a loser and hanging up on him?
Yeah, after 8 solid years of Jesus and hiding his hip flask, he can get solidly wasted again, blow lunch and pass out face down in his own juicy chunks on daddy’s lawn like the halfwit WASP frat-boy fucktard he is. It’s obviously been building for a while. Reports have been oozing out of DC political blogs and supermarket tabloids that the Caligutard has been drinking in private increasingly over the past couple of years and that the pretzel incident was really a case of the Caligutard drinking himself into such a horrific state, he keeled over unconscious. Come January 21, he’ll be back on the bottle full-time, back from an 8-year hiatus of pretending to be president.
That’s my theory anyway and I may harbor some influential prejudices that color my cast iron objectivity. What do you think, Stinquers?