Trump announced today that his trial separation from Reality has turned into an official divorce due to irreconcilable differences. “Reality is a bitch,” he complained on the Supreme Courthouse steps after they had handed down a 6-3 decision in his favour. “She had far too many unrealistic expectations of me,” he added.
In an early morning Truth Narcissist rant he expanded on the theme: “I like to build skyscrapers and things especially the pie-in-sky sort with a side order of chips and a diet coke, but I allowed her to redesign the Rose Garden. When I said there wasn’t enough gold, Reality went off in a huff because I was using the golf cart at the time. She has since given me the hot tongue, cold bum treatment from Mar-a-Laager where she has decamped to. I was not happy about the whole camp thing either and she doesn’t even like the way I dance to YMCA as she says that I dance with gay abandon, but it is not something I am prepared to DEI on a hill for.
“You know that, because I’m clever, like when I tell people that there’s a silent b in debt, they turn around to me and say, ‘Sir, you are clever. How do you know all these things?’ I tell them that I am a stable genius which makes me an SI (Supreme Intelligence) which is better than an AI or even an XI. Actually, I cleverly tell everyone who will listen that XI stands for Unknown Intelligence as no one can solve for him with his slit-eyed Chinese way. In fact, sometimes I don’t know if he is asleep or just being inscrutable. At least with me, you know when I’m asleep. But coming back to silent b’s . . . Hey, I bet you thought I was going off script. That was just my famous weave like when I played tight end in High School. All the cheerleaders thought I was a tight end when I didn’t buy them drinks, and I think I still have the tightest end of any President in History. But about debt – only stupid people like Dumbocrats’ pronounce it deBt. Actually, I love debt so much that I’ve increased it by $2 trillion since I became your favourite president for the second time. Then I started a me me coin called $TRUMP and Reality accused me of profiteering.
“But Reality really upset me when she stopped me from seeing my BFF, Epstein. She actually drove him to commit suicide – that’s how tough she is with other people so you can imagine what it was like to live with her 24/7.
“Reality then complained when our pool went green after I had spent so much on it and that I was always flying off to play golf when we needed to sort out domestic affairs. I tried to seduce her with my new architecturally enhanced ball room and lovingly decorated our house with marble and tasteful kitsch – nada!
“I struggle to understand her accent and she can’t interpret my hand gestures so our communication broke down a long time ago. Reality also then accused me, in her thick East European accent, of sleeping with Putin which is just low IQ because his age and man boobs don’t do it for me and, even if he plays with babushka dolls, he doesn’t have a kitty cat I can grab. I complained to Blanche about it. After involving NI (National Intelligence) and SI, between them and his French surname, they managed to work out that Reality was accusing me of sleeping with a putain, a whore. I just don’t understand women and Reality in particular. Why does she still hold that Stormy in a D-cup against me? The Stormy night only lasted a few hours anyway and cost my company a measly $150,000 – Chump change. Then Reality hit me with 34 felony charges for declaring my 1/12th night stand to be tax deductible – I ask you with crocodile tears in my blue eyes.
“Well, you can’t win them all, but I do win all my golf tournaments and I should have won three presidencies already except the second one was rigged unlike my tournaments. Thank you for your attention in this matter, your favourite precedent, Donald Trump.”