Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you’re feeling well and doing all right. Or, in any case, better than what you’re about to see. If you ever feel so down and doubtful about yourself that you don’t know if anyone else’s life could be more pathetic, just press Play on this and you’ll instantly feel better knowing that the answer is a resounding YES:
Pretty sad, eh? That white-elephant roach motel known as Mar-a-Lago played host to the most pitiful party I’ve ever seen. On an occasion when everyone (who paid a fortune to be there) is supposed to be joyous that a fresh new year is upon them, and a rotten old one is finally behind them, Donnie’s out there whining and pouting like a senile toddler, spoiling everyone’s holiday mood.
Granted, he does have a few things to whine about. His debts to the Russian oligarchy are about to be called in big-time, since that war in Ukraine isn’t yielding the spoils it was expected to. They gotta get blood from somewhere, because Europe is doing its damnedest to break its own dependence on their oil and gas, and so their best hope (after Pooty-poot) is a fat, bald, petulant manbaby who thinks his name is literally gold. You know, the one they lent all that money to so there’d be some kind of hard currency to back that fool’s-gold name? Sucks to be you, Russian oligarchs.
But at least those oligarchs have one thing to be thankful for: They’re not the man they hitched their dirty money trucks to. Because that man is under investigation for multiple federal crimes, and those investigations, unlike the war in Ukraine, ARE hitting pay dirt. And while he’s still (momentarily) free to party like it’s 1999, he just can’t resist the urge to whine about it in front of an ostensibly adoring crowd at his personal resort, like a colossal loser. If he’s so innocent, as he claims, why isn’t he confident?
Well, we all know the answer to that one. The only question is, how much longer do we have to listen to him sulking?
Please, Gods, don’t let it be another damn year.