My Last Half-Hearted Joke About Tr*mp Before I Either Write About Something Else, Or Hide Under My Bed Until 2020
I keep checking my calendar because it feels like time just stopped on November 8th.
Starting January 21, it’ll start to go backwards!
No, that wasn’t “The Joke.”
The Joke is that I woke up on November 8th at 4:00am, duh, to go work the election poll site. I had to be five blocks away by 5:00am, civic responsibility whot whot, so I woke up damn early.
With terrible diarrhea.
So I threw back a couple shots of Pepto Bismol, grabbed a thermos full of coffee, and headed off to go work the poll site. Luckily, I was stationed near the toilets, because at 6:00pm, I again had a bout of cringing, unspeakable diarrhea. Accompanied by a panic attack, as I started to worry that maybe, maybe Trump actually had a shot at winning this thing.
So now, on top of dealing with the fact that the government is in the hands of Obvious Nazis, I’m also left to cope with the fact that my poop chute has the ability to predict the future. I am certain that my diarrhea was my butt’s way of telling me that America was in danger. My anus has The Sight. That is all.