Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Punching Above His Weight

He came for Oprah during the NBA All-Star Game on Black Panther weekend. Which is impressive. It’s like pushing Jon Stewart down the stairs at a Phish show on the third night of Hanukkah. (The sharp-eyed will not that TotD does not follow the Combovergruppenführer. I won’t have him popping up in my feed unbidden and suddenly like some cheeseburger-soaked pukwudgie.) I don’t know about this one. People love them some Oprah. White ladies would fucking die for Oprah, and every black lady has an ongoing fantasy in which she takes Gayle King’s place as Oprah’s bestie. The Big O is a four-quadrant personality; she’s got a giant Q. This is a terrible move.

Which, of course, means that he’s gonna do something even worse in a week or so. TotD thereby presents: Which Beloved American Figure Is Trump Gonna Attack Next?

  • Rocky Balboa.
  • Women actively giving birth.
  • Wounded veterans. (Wait. He already did this several times.)
  • Apple pie.
  • Babe Ruth.
  • Nancy Reagan. (“No tits! Sad!”)
  • The half-forgotten, nearly genetic, memory of the frontier that all Americans have hidden in their hearts.
  • The astronauts that died on the Challenger.
  • Hot dogs.
  • Tom Hanks.
  • The ending of Old Yeller. (“I didn’t cry. Everyone said I was going to cry. Didn’t cry. Not sad!”)


  1. Say what you want about Ron, but Nancy could get the whole thing down her throat. Did you see the Kielbasa Queen in the Howard Stern movie? Like that.

  2. He just keeps showing us what a complete piece of shit he is

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