As you know, we’re close friends with Donald Trump which is why I so freely and openly call him a shithead and other such colorful phrases on twitter all the time. ALL THE TIME. Because we can kid like that. He’s like that kid you knew growing up who you never really liked but he lived on the same block and had different video games than you so you still played with him. Just like that only we don’t play together and I don’t like him at all. Nothing like that. He’s an asshole.
That said, because we’re so close, Trump keeps me in the loop on all his exciting news. He was kind enough to let me know about all these other bombshells after he dropped his Obama whopper yesterday (whopper being regional slang for “useless and mildly embarrassing shit.”) Pour yourself a stiff drink and grab a seat, because your mind is about to be Trumped. Which is to say disappointed.
The following are all taken directly from prepared transcripts that Trump will bust out whenever he feels he needs more attention.
The Lindbergh Baby? NOT TOILET TRAINED! I have it on good authority that this so called “baby” had no idea how to use indoor plumbing and would often grope bosoms. Women’s bosoms. This baby was nothing more than a drunken pervert and his kidnapping was only the result of him falling, drunk and stumblebum, into a well. I will release records showing where the well was and what the “baby” was drinking on that fateful night, if President Obama release info about Michele’s cup size.
Al Capone’s vault is not a secret. I have it, I have had it for years, I am willing to show the contents to everyone and I will share with you know what I know. Al Capone’s vault, which I discovered during a groundbreaking ceremony at one of my casinos, was a mid-sized tank located under a trailer and attached with pipes to allow for air circulation and water. Unfortunately the pipes had been flooded and the entire vault was full of poo water and poo, being two different things that unintelligent people mistake for the same thing. The vault, known as the Septic Master 5000, contained ancient corn and what appeared to be many millions of dollars worth of mostly disintegrated dollar bills. There was one additional treasure I will share with the world providing President Barack Hussein Obama is willing to trace an outline of his penis on vellum paper and mail it to me.
I know who shot JR. I have video of the crime and a reference book to explain the lead up to the event for everyone too young to understand this joke. I will make it public for all to see and we will finally be able to bring the perpetrator of this heinous crime to justice. All I ask is that President Obama take a lie detector test on live television, before America, to prove he has never eaten the flesh of man. Every President in the history of the United States has not been a cannibal, why won’t Obama prove he isn’t? He’s from Africa, you know? That’s where cannibalism comes from.
After years of research, funded with my own money because I refuse to waste American tax dollars, I and my team of scienticians and researchcopters have determined the exact number of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop. What’s more, we know the number of licks it takes to get to the center of Li’l Kim. Under President Obama this question has languished and the American people have suffered, not knowing what to do with either Kim or their Tootsie Pops. I will make this knowledge public, freely sharing it with all, as soon as President Obama is willing to meet with me, in public, while I wear a suit made from gold leaf and Swarovski crystals on top of an ivory throne under the light of many strobe lights and Obama, dressed in tribal African feathers and animal skins, crawls around at my feet saying things like “Oonga dunga dinga dunga” and “the Ghost and the Darkness!” neither of which is disrespectful in any way because, as an Africa, those are like his slogans.
For over 50 years Americans have been asking a question that Democrats have refused to answer. 50 years without a single Presidential candidate addressing these concerns in a debate, ordering any kind of inquiry or even devoting a fraction of their time to answering and enough is enough. On my own, as a concerned American, I have discovered who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp and I have almost completely unraveled the mystery behind who put the ram in the ram a lam a ding dong. President Obama does not want the American people to know the answers to these questions but I feel it is everyone’s right to know and that is why I will be sharing this information, for free, unless President Obama would like to share with us any information he has about who, who wrote the book of love.
I want the American people to know that I have a condition called Encephalomerkin Neurofecal Impaction. Basically, my head constantly grows a wispy, frightening pubic wig that digs roots deep into my brain where it deposits its waste materials. In layman’s terms I have pube hair that shits in my brain. Despite this disability I have become a self made millionaire with a net worth of $100 bajillion dollars and I own a unicorn, the only unicorn in captivity. Her name is Francine and her she lactates Sprite.
As an American with a disability, I understand how hard it is to overcome and persevere in a society that offers you no breaks. But I did not let my disability hold me down and I did not let naysayers stop me from becoming not only the first man to walk on the moon, but the owner of the moon. I had my lawyers draft up paperwork this morning and as of 10am EDT I am the sole owner and operator of the moon, henceforth to be referred to in all published forums as Donald Trump’s the Moon.