Hey, ya bunch of feminist bats! It's me, Butch Pornstache, coming at ya live from the Pornstache Conservatory. (TOILET.)
I heard some of you weirdos were hoping I'd weigh in on how Donald Trump's presidency is going so far, so here I am! Long time no talk about LOVING AMERICA.
Since I'm a reformed Tea Partier, whose stars-and-bars patriotic truck nuts are now hidden away in a Cracker Jack box at the back of my garage, I am no fan of our new president.
Partly that's because I don't trust dudes who slap their name in gold letters on anything but bowling trophies, and partly that's because I've learned a few things since my ex-wife/fiancée Tammy rigged up my phone so Shakesville is the only website I can access and restricted my TV time to episodes of Full Frontal with Samantha Bee (which isn't nearly as sexy as it sounds) and re-runs of Parks & Recreation.
I am LITERALLY (Chris Traeger!) surrounded by Trump fans like 97% of the time. Down at the lodge, at the BMX Fanciers Society, at O'Tooterly's Pub and Bait Shop, every time I'm just trying to fish and throw sticks in the water at Winkle Creek, and even at my brother Buck's house. Jesus H. Christ, they are everywhere.
And every time I try to set them straight on some FAKE NEWS they're spouting off like it was handed to them engraved on tablets from Noah on Mount Olympus, they yell some bullhooey at me about how I need to get my head out of my ass and listen to people who don't share my views.
(My views being that Trump is a dipshit with a Cabinet full of turdacious billionaires whose precious butt cheeks probably ain't never even sat on a four-wheeler.)
And it's really starting to make my mustache frizzle to be told I need to listen to Trump voters when THEY'RE SCREAMING IN MY FACE TWENTY-FOUR SEVEN.
It's like, are you goddamn emeffing jerkturkeys kidding me?! Every last one of my happy places that I used to go to escape the OPPRESSIVE REGIME of my house and its RUTHLESS OVERLADIES (feminism) Tammy and my stepmom Cheryl, and enjoy the uncomplicated company of uncomplicated men has now turned into a barfinating TRUMP ZONE OF MANZOMBIES who talk about how great Trump is like they're getting paid in solid gold MAGA hats for every compliment they give that yammering shitbucket!
I couldn't turn off the spigot of pro-Trump propaganda if I wanted to! And believe me—I've tried!
My best friend Dick Balzac has lost his damn mind, can't shut his yapper about Trump for thirty solid seconds, and I offered to give him my entire According to Jim DVD collection and ALL my VHS tapes of John Cena's Greatest WWE Smashes if he'd just stop talking about Trump for ONE DAY, and he couldn't do it!
It's gotten so bad that I'm beginning to prefer the company of women who shout at me every time I say something stupid about how ladies' nights at O'Tooterly's are reverse sexism.
And let me just let you in on a little secret: These men who are RUINING MEN for me aren't talking about their economic anxiety. They're talking about "illegals" and "sexual deviants" and "pro-abortion feminazis" and "white genocide," and when they run out of things to say on that malarkey, they get each other all revved up (IN THE PANTS) by shouting "LOCK HER UP! LOCK HER UP!"
Last week at bowling, I just lost my noodles, and I shouted, "ALL OF YOU SHOULD BE LOCKED UP FOR BEING DUMBASSES!" And, man, you wouldn't even BELIEVE how many hotdogs got thrown at me. It was so many hotdogs.
There was no convincing them, so I just gave them the Eye of the Tiger and got outta there.
Anyways. You know I never liked that Obama character, but maybe I wasn't paying enough attention as I should have been. I got healthcare now, thanks to him. And I still think Hillary is a huge dork, but if huge dorks don't belong in the White House, where are we even supposed to put them?
I don't know, man. The world is getting weird. All my favorite spaces that used to be the coolest with the greatest guys now feel pretty shady—even though it's the same spaces with the same guys. Trump has changed something in them. They're so mean now.
Tammy and Cheryl keep telling me that Trump didn't change them—that I was just a privileged ding-a-ling who didn't notice how mean they always were. Maybe that's true. They're usually right about this stuff.
Maybe my friends have always sucked and it's me who's changed.
All's I know is that I don't want to hear ONE MORE G.D. THING ABOUT HOW DONALD TRUMP IS THE BEST or I'm gonna put my shoe through someone's ass!
Well, I kinda complained so much about my stupid friends that I forgot to complain about Donald Trump's presidency so far. I'll save that for next time. MORE BUTCH FOR YOU, LUCKY DUCKIES!