Whether or not Paul Noth's New Yorker cartoon is referencing Donald Trump's campaign for president, that's the first thing that came to my mind when I saw it. The one big difference is that the candidate in this cartoon is probably telling the truth.
Sometimes, when I look at photos of the people at Trump's campaign rallies, I go a bit nuts thinking about the disconnect - I mean here's a guy who is the exact polar opposite of his supporters, and somehow they've convinced themselves that he's not only going to be their savior, he's also, maybe secretly, deep down inside, one of them. But think about it for awhile - he was born into wealth and privilege, and never handled a tool or worked a job for wages in his life. He started his career with a fortune, and made a whole lot more by stiffing virtually everyone who ever did any work for him.
Trump has never owned a dog, and doesn't know a thing about baseball. Never worked on his own car, much less driven one, and never sat with his girl in the front seat somewhere outside of town, listening to the radio. He's a germophobe who can't stand to be touched, and eats burgers and pizza with a knife and fork. He grabs that pussy but never learned how to sweet talk a lady. He's never told a joke, and no one can recall ever hearing him laugh. He's got a fake hairdo, his manicured hands have skin that looks like they belong to a young child, and he never goes anywhere without a ton of makeup.
I grew up among real honest to God people, and this guy ain't one of them. Oh wait - he wears a baseball hat. With a business suit.
Seriously. Wake up, sheeple - didn't your Dad ever tell you not to vote for ex reality TV show hosts with orange spray tans?
No comments:
Post a Comment