A SMAC in the Face:  The Resurrection – a Cautionary Tale

And so it came to pass on 3 November 2020 that the Orange Jesus was hung out to dry.  First Georgia, then Arizona denied him his divine right to rule until Jesus comes.  All the while King Biden and Pontius Harris lorded it over him.  He was cross and he couldn’t bear it.  He had been beaten by a barely sentient Zimmer frame.  He did however have his faithful dogs, the only ones allowed into his House, Rudi Giuliani and Sidney Powell, to fight for him amidst his deniers and enemies. 

Melania, who had sailed across the Mediterranean to the promised land and had sold herself to the highest bidder, soothed his fevered brow and fed him another Big Mac to keep his strength up.  She gently rubbed McDonald’s salad dressing on his feet and legs because his bone spurs were acting up after he nipped out for a quick round of golf at Mar-a-Lago.  She whispered sweet nothings in her sexy but guttural and cold Slavic accent to fill the void of the Sentient Naartjie’s head and promised him a bit of nooky sometime.  This would be a bigly event, the Second Coming.  The first was when he begat Barron which would go a long way to explaining the Stormy relationship and the random grabbing of pussy.

After 63 days and 63 nights of being locked up in his White House grotto except for quick forays to the local McDonald’s drive-thru where he would ask his security detail to shoot out the Mc in the sign, his followers came from far and wide to help with his resurrection.  The very common people and the evangelicals and the rednecks and the Proud Boys and the disaffected and the misguided and the blind and deaf to all but conspiracy theories congregated at the Temple on the Hill to agitate so that he could walk amongst them for another four years to preach to them on Twitter, to heal the nation with the laying on of his small hands and to rid it of the abortionists, bunny huggers, gun control heathen and the fake journalists who held heretical views and daily blasphemed against him.  The next four years was to see the completion of his MAGA Opus where all the sinners would be finally cast out and the pestilential swamp on the Hill drained.  It was to be the end of days for the Pelosis and the Clintons and the Obamas and the rest of the cabal who had conspired with the unholy trinity of Soros, Gates and Chavez.

They stormed the Temple on the Hill, rolled away the barriers and tried mightily to enforce his resurrection.  But it was not to be and, when they came to their senses and looked around, they found that the Orange Jesus had descended to his personal heaven in Mar-a-Lago. 

And so his followers and disciples pray for his second coming, some of them in prison, just Biden their time.  To hasten it, they continue to chant his praises at revival rallies across the country, shoot up the odd Gay bar and proselytise about his many miracles, particularly that one about the multitudes at his inauguration.  Or what about his cure for COVID or his beautiful wall or …

But the Orange Jesus’ supporters had got it confused – it was an insurrection and not a resurrection as they later found out in court.  It was just like the church scribes of yore who had mistranslated the word, celebrate. And fast forward to the next US Pestilential Election.

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