“Sonnet Number One Because I am Number One” by Donald Trump

Donald Trump has been taking a lot heat lately.  People have said many mean things like, “Donald, you’re not qualified to be president,” “Donald, you aren’t even a Republican,” “Donald, you are a racist, fascist, sexist crook in a gilded toupée,” and, most commonly, “Donald, you are a soulless shadow man who will singlehandedly doom America to an endless spiral of despondency and unspeakable humiliation.”  Sometimes we forget about sweet blonde Don’s gentle, poetic side.  He is a man of words; he knows all of the best ones.  Here, we take a glimpse into Donald’s bard-like nature with a sonnet inspired by William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 18” (which doesn’t have as many words as Donald’s).

On poetry, Mr. Trump has only this to say:

“Shakespeare is really just a hack, he’s a loser, people.  If I could time travel, I’d go back to England, I’d become king (women can’t resist, Queen Elizabeth’s no exception) and win all of the poem contests.  I once wrote a great haiku. It goes like this:

‘Tiny children are not horses.

One vaccine at a time.

Over time.’

I am the greatest poet this country’s ever seen. Look it up.”

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“Sonnet Number One Because I am Number One” – Donald Trump

Shall I compare thee, Donald, to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely than Rosie…Disgusting

More temperate than Hillary: your temperament wins awards,

All of them.

Rough winds do shake your sexy corn silk hair,

Which is not a wig,

Your hair is as much a wig

As global warming is NOT a hoax concocted by those communist Chinese,

Losers.

Summer’s lease has run out too soon,

Because God doesn’t know how to run a real estate business,

Our planet is freezing, our scientists are stuck in ice,

And they try to tell you about “Global” “warming,”

I have one word for you: bullshit hoax.

Losers.

 

But don’t let my intelligence intimidate you,

My IQ is one of the highest,

It’s not your fault that you’re not me

And though beauty always fades,

All women, even the 10s, get old,

Disgusting really.

But not me,

Not beautiful Donald T,

Not my long, beautiful hands,

Are they small?

No, their size is well documented.

And don’t get me started on my hair,

100% mine,

Permanently painted

Yellow as eternal summer,

Golden as my toilet bowl.

 

But I’m more than just a pretty face,

I don’t pay my taxes,

That makes me smart.

I have inner beauty too,

Heaps of it,

It’s called money,

It’s beautiful.

I’m beautiful,

That is to say, I’m very rich.

The losers don’t get it – they’re so mean,

They don’t understand how

I could even stand

In the Middle of Fifth Avenue

Shoot somebody

And I wouldn’t lose a vote,

Because I’m so temperate,

And I get along with poor people so well,

Probably because I was once poor.

 

Just a boy,

Abandoned by a cruel, miserly father,

Without possession, without hope,

Nothing but $1 million in my pocket,

Just look at me now:

I know words, I have the best words,

I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to ISIS,

I cherish the weaker sex: bimbos, slobs – I don’t discriminate,

Speaking of that,

I have a great relationship with the blacks,

But above all, I’m a gentleman.

***

Commies are red, waterboarding is blue,

America, if you vote for me,

I’ll make Mexico build a wall for you.

BEN CARSON STABBING VICTIM: ‘CHOSEN ONE?’

A number of troubling allegations have shrouded Republican presidential candidate Ben Carson’s history and political credentials with mystery and doubt.  However, not until very recently has there been serious cause for alarm.  Just this morning, the stabbing victim of Mr. Carson’s admittedly dark, angry past has come forward with a haunting, lightning bolt-shaped belt buckle scar and a claim to be the “Chosen One” of an ancient political prophecy, foretelling the demise of the GOP’s maniacal bad seeds, including surgeon-turned-politician Dr. Benny C.

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The victim and survivor of Mr. Carson’s bout of wild knife fury, a rather hairy potter and general craftsman by trade, has chosen to withhold his name from publication for privacy and safety reasons, and, consequently, will be referred to simply as the Boy Who Lived (or BWL for short).  When asked why he hadn’t stepped forward earlier with such prophetic forebodings, the Boy Who Lived replied that he hadn’t even been aware of the ill-omened tidings until an enormous man carrying a disturbing birthday cake broke into his home to inform him of his destiny.  [The intruder was later positively identified as 55th governor of New Jersey Chris Christie.]

Additionally, according to the BWL, he only survived Carson’s fury–and just barely–through the protective powers of his belt buckle which had, incidentally, been imbued with a stupid idiot’s love – the force most despised by Carson, which warded off his pointed metallic advances and broke his pathological power, banishing him into the shadow realm of his home bathroom where he huddled, in a haughty, contemptuous state of broken disdain, his madness diminished but by no means destroyed.

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The BWL claims that he was later contacted by a crazed, bespectacled figure who incessantly waved rotten tea leaves in his face, shouting in a strange Brooklyn accent that the “GOP horcruxes must be destroyed.”  The Boy Who Lived was unsettled but didn’t take the ravings particularly seriously until he discovered while watching the news that the deranged clairvoyant had been none other than Bernie Sanders, yet another presidential hopeful, spouting promises of socialist nirvana while simultaneously advising the destruction of horcruxes on the side.

Though the BWL attempted to contact Sanders once more to determine the nature of Ben Carson’s purported rightwing-swinging horcruxes, he never heard from bespectacled Bernie again, only receiving a grave warning from the Socialist Party USA to cease all correspondence immediately lest there be “dire consequences for us all…”  Shortly thereafter, however, Mr. BWL received a number of peculiar emails from the personal address ‘madame_prez_HRC@yahoo.com,’ listing the horcruxes, one by one, in odd, ominous succession.  The list reads as follows: 1. Donald Trump’s hair[piece] 2. Ben Carson’s watercolor self portrait with Jesus 3. George W. Bush’s special golden goblet (rumored to contain Osama Bin Laden’s tears) 4. Sarah Palin’s spectacles 5. Ted Cruz’s bible 6. Trump Towers, and, last of all, 7. The wall between Mexico and the United States.

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Should Bernie Sanders and the mysterious “Madame Prez HRC’s” emails be truthful, the Boy Who Lived surely has a daunting quest set forth before him and we ask that all US citizens, muggles, wizards, elephants and donkeys alike, stand united in support of this brave hairy pottery artisan as he embarks upon what’s certain to be a frightfully unsettling journey.  And remember to at all times keep your eyes peeled for anything peculiar or wicked lurking in the shadows of the political underworld, whether it be a knife-carrying Carson, a wig(?)-wielding, bigotry-bearing Trump, or really just any politician with a particularly mischievous look in the eye.  Which might just be each and every one of them.  Godspeed.

Donald Trump: Smug Muggle or Idiotic Wizard simply disguised as one?

So has anyone noticed that Donald Trump is just a confused Professor Lockhart masquerading about as a muggle? Still using those wily memory charms and making people believe he’s committed wondrous, fantastical, fictional deeds… Someone had better alert St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies that their patient has escaped…

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