“Real Men” for Trump? Why?
Phillipe and Jorge continue to be baffled by the fact that Donald Trump, the narcissistic, pathological liar with a 10-year-old’s mentality and frightened overreaction to any slight, seems to be the flavor of choice in this election for the White Van Man, the angry Caucasian who feels he ain’t being done right by in Washington. (We are beyond even guessing why a woman would vote for this swine, given his attitude toward the female gender that reflects more the rules of Sharia law than acceptance of equality. Okay, some of you can’t stand Hillary, we get it, but puh-leeze!)
P&J would like to fall back on the oft-cited question of which candidate wins the “Who would you most like to have a beer with in a bar?” contest. By that standard, even if Hillary ordered a Singapore Sling in a shots-and-beers corner tap she might come out ahead, if only because the White Van Man might think she looked good and was hot for him after he’d had about 10 boilermakers.
As for P&J’s bona fides, trust us — we have spent more than enough time in bars and with the types that fancy themselves paragons of being big, ruff-n-tuff men to know this breed too well.
First off, Trump’s Cheetos skin color and a hair arrangement that looks like it was cut out of a piece of Liberace’s shag carpet and stuck on his head with Gorilla Glue would not exactly have the boys at the bar offering up the stool next to them. The last time they saw something like that was when they pranked their passed-out buddy by slathering his face in QT, drawing a penis on his forehead in Magic Marker and waiting for him to wake up. The only thing missing is the dick.
Which makes for an apt segue. The Donald loves to loudly brag about how many beautiful women he’s shagged, how great he is in bed and how big his Johnson is (despite the small hands). He also has a penchant for talking about women’s menstruation and bathroom habits. In a saloon, that normally draws a quick mental reaction from the real menfolk on a variety of fronts: 1) he’s gotten laid about once in his life, maybe, and she was both ugly and desperate (or he paid for it); 2) he’s a closet homo; 3) he has premature ejaculation problems and is hung like a chipmunk, so he had to buy a big pick-up truck (or limousine, in this case) to compensate; and 4) he is a real pervert, a creep and deviant of the first order, to be avoided at all costs. Vote for him for president? Not bloody likely.
And where does he pick up White Van Man’s support on the bravery front? Tough Guy Trump got five deferments from the draft during the Vietnam War, getting declared 4-F by a doctor his daddy doubtless paid off to determine “bone spurs” in his foot, and he couldn’t remember which foot it was when quizzed. Trust us, anyone of draft age during Vietnam would know more details about his ticket out than the lives of his wife and children, and anyone on hand when they had the national draft lottery still knows his number by heart; bet on it.
And perhaps The Donald should skip trying to impress the real men by having a cold one at the bar if it’s a VFW or American Legion Post — even if he does claim to know more about the military than anyone. He has insulted iconic vet John McCain with a throwaway line that indicated he was stupid enough to get shot down over Vietnam. So it should follow that all those names on the Vietnam, World War II and World War I Memorials across the country must be pretty fuckin’ dumb bastards, eh Donny?
Then, of course, we had him insulting the Gold Star family because they were mean to him, and taking a Purple Heart from an old vet, and then claim it was easier to get it by running for president as an ex-draft dodger than actually being awarded it for a wound in battle (!?!?). See whose buying you a beer for that one, Mr. Sacrifices.
From P&J’s experience, we have found most of what Trump says and does the exact opposite of what a hard-working, honest, tough but caring, self-assured man believes or has done. Gonna hit somebody Don? When’s the last time you were in a real fight since elementary school? Short or stiff contractors who did a good day’s work for what they thought was going to be a day’s pay? Hey, Bobby, remember that asshole who tried to duck paying you in full because of some bullshit claim and it took you a year to get the money? Real men don’t welsh on what they owe you or promise to do, Mr. Trump, nor do they use Chinese and Bangladesh labor and products rather than buy at the local store where they know the owner. Or at least go to Walmart to help old Sam Walton’s clan buy new yachts, but keep it in the US of A.
The White Van Man and other “real men” have to realize that Donald Trump wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. He doesn’t want you in his hotel with your horrible wife and kids; he doesn’t want you on his golf course in case one of his preferred guests has to see or hear you; he doesn’t care if you go underwater on your home or belly-up in your business. He just wants you to kiss his ass with a smile on your face.
And real men don’t do that. Or drink beers with the obnoxious jerks who do.
A Heart-Stopping Tale
P&J went to our cardiologist recently and received a bit of information that left us dazed and blinking in a confusion of emotions. Fortunately it wasn’t about our own hearts — since neither of us has one some would say — but rather because we didn’t know how exactly to feel about the situation, other than perhaps depressed.
Our doctor, a man who we trust implicitly, told us in the midst of a pleasant conversation that more and more heart transplants are being conducted these days than ever before. Ah, more lives saved, and joy to the world, thought P&J! But not so fast there, boyos. The reason for this is that so many more deaths are occurring from overdoses of heroin and other opiods, a fact pointed out with tragic frequency in the news.
But because many of these deaths are sudden and happen to young people, their hearts are not in the decay and decline brought on by disease or old age. Thus they are quite acceptable for being transplanted into another human being’s body. The medical profession is in the position to take advantage of this grim outcome, and are able to help others who may have to suffer a wait for a suitable organ that they do not have the time to see out.
If there are any cardiologists out there who know this tale to be wrong, please let P&J know. But then again, we would also argue that any doctors reading the Cool, Cool World should likely immediately lose their licenses to practice on general principle. Bedevilment upon bedevilment, n’est-ce pas?
At any rate…ugh!