If you haven’t seen it, Donald Trump took precious moments away from his 2020 campaign to shower Puerto Ricans with American generosity. Nothing says “White America is here to help you” like mushroom tipping a bunch of Puerto Rican Oompa Loompas in the face with the Brawny Man. Who cares about delivering internet and power, I won’t sleep until we’ve cut down the entire Amazon Rainforest to get these mother fuckin’ Puerto Ricans, on these mother fuckin’ paper towels. Those are going to be some chaffed assholes down there and they haven’t even digested their pension obligations yet. Oh it’s going to be a surprise, A RUDE, PAINFUL SURPRISE.
Now time for some self awareness:
Are you fucking kidding me? These guys couldn’t land a touchdown with their wives. Or side pieces. Speaking of having a main bitch, and a mistress, and a couple of girl friends, being so hood rich, today’s song of the day is Head of the State by Baracka Flacka Flames.
An image for my girls still at the office tonight:
And finally, the McLaren P1, because a girl can dream, right?
Roping off a $1.2 million car with a plastic barrier chain? Nice, McLaren. Maybe it’s time you Brexit from the auto industry and focus on pushing cheap hats and questionably sourced keychains like Ferrari. AHHH SKEET SKEET SKEET!
And finally, Chick-fil-A has been rubbing off on Jimmy Johns (assuming the Bible says that’s okay):
Nothing bespeaks “thank god we live in America” like a black guy desperately trying to strip himself of ownership-administered shackles. I don’t know, that meat and bread on the right looks a little gay, over under Chick-fil-A walks from the deal?
Musings and Malarkey 
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