Trump’s Tiny Orange D*ck Could Cause World War III; Kim Jong Un Pissing-Match PROVES He’s Unfit
by Matt Terzi
Donald Trump’s ‘Fire and Fury’ Comment Is What Happens When Guys Let Their Peens Make Critical Decisions
“God gave man a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time.” – Robin Williams
The article you’re about to read isn’t about Donald Trump. Despite popular belief, Trump himself isn’t really a threat to our nation, our planet, or the human race as a whole. This is a story about the real menace in the oval office. A genuine blight upon our lands and the true author of Trump’s ludicrous “Fire and fury” comment.
I’m talking, of course, about Donald Trump’s tiny orange penis.
Yes, I’m serious when I say that I blame nearly all of the Trump Administration’s terribleness on “The Donald’s” minuscule trouser dictator. This unimpressive “member” of Team Trump is clearly (and also ironically) responsible for some untold number of Trump’s biggest scandals and gaffes. The “Fire and fury” story is only one example. But for countless Americans finding it difficult to sleep at night this week, the real concern is that it might be the last example.
His “Fire and fury” statement was bad enough on its own to make any intelligent American question Trump’s sanity. But Thursday, Trump’s crotch thimble led him to double-down on his ignorant remarks. “Was it too tough? Maybe it wasn’t tough enough.”
Of course, Trump’s tiny orange penis is responsible for a whole lot more than just this “Fire and fury” fiasco. Recently encouraging police officers to handle suspects with a bit more violence? Surely that idea was born in his crotch-brain more than his head-brain. So too can we blame his reactions to the Russia scandal on the loose singular cashew rattling around in his underpants, as well as his bull-headed wall plans, his frequent insults toward world leaders, his attacks on the media, and so much of Trump’s other dick-like behavior.
Even Trump’s most famous Twitter typos can be directly blamed on his most underwhelming extremity. We all assume Trump’s 4 AM tweets are fired off while he’s sitting on the toilet, right? So is it that much of a stretch to assume he occasionally leans back and allows his underwhelming snausage to have a go at his phone’s keyboard? Covfefe indeed.
‘Fire and Fury’: When Wieners Collide
Now, I could surely make a number of you giggle by describing some scenario where Donald Trump unzips his pants and rests his hands on his waist while his Mini-Me angrily barks orders at Steve Bannon, Kellyanne Conway, and Jeff Sessions, each of them whimpering and Nazi-saluting before darting off to make America terrible some more. I could do that. But at the end of the day, Trump’s tiny orange penis is a lot more menacing to our country than my silly dick jokes could really illustrate. And Trump’s “Fire and fury” comment? That definitely proves it.
It doesn’t require much force to depress the big red button that engulfs planet Earth in the eternal hellfire of nuclear obliteration. Unimpressive as Trump’s wiener may be, it’s surely capable of bringing about a full-scale apocalypse the likes of which none of us could ever imagine in our worst nightmares. So the very last thing this Earth of ours needs is two poorly endowed men sword fighting their way through a dick-measuring contest while the fates of every resident of this planet hangs in the balance.
Trump’s “Fire and fury” comment was Trump doing something he and his supporters were hyper-critical of with regards to President Obama: This is Trump’s “red line” moment. Trump has drawn a line in the sand, expecting his brainless tough talk could bluff Pyongyang into backing down. Trump pulled out his ding-dong and shook it at Kim Jong Un in probably the saddest display of “saber-rattling” this world has ever seen.
How did Kim Jong Un respond? He dropped trow, lifted up his shirt with both hands, and said “Ha! Mine’s at least 0.3 percent bigger!” And voila! North Korea is threatening to nuke Guam. Kim Jong Un immediately called Trump’s bluff, and Trump is suddenly faced with a predicament. Do I nuke North Korea? Do I invade? Do I threaten him back? Do I pop one of those little blue pills that somehow always give Melania a headache even though I’m the one taking them?
Thank merciful Christ Donald Trump wasn’t President in 1961 during the Cuban Missile Crisis. I wouldn’t be writing this article right now if that were the case, and you wouldn’t be reading it. But this conflict with North Korea and the aforementioned sword fighting between Trump and Kim Jong Un? Right now, it seems we’re heading toward some scenario that’s equally terrifying, if not doubly so with Trump at the helm.
Trump Shows Us Why Having A Dick As Our President Isn’t As Glorious As His Supporters Envisioned It
The Trump “presidency” has at times been hilarious. It’s been “SAD.” It’s been puzzling. Most often, it’s been infuriating. But as tensions between the United States and North Korea escalate, this administration’s reign is best described by another word you aren’t going to find in that dusty old dictionary sitting on your bookshelf, the one you haven’t cracked open since discovering Google so many years ago. That word? Dickalicious.
Every US President has had their doctrines, but Trump’s is unique in that it’s the first time we can name a doctrine after something other than the President himself. Monroe had his Monroe Doctrine. Reagan had his Reagan Doctrine. Bush had his Bush Doctrine, and Obama of course had his Obama Doctrine. But Trump? He has the Crotch Doctrine. And its parameters are nearly as simple as Trump himself is: America’s packing some serious beef, and we’re not afraid to flail it around.
The Crotch Doctrine defines every facet of Trump’s foreign policy. We’re building a wall, and you’re paying for it! Test missiles and shit-talk the United States? Brace yourselves, Nuclear winter is coming! Screw these other world leaders, I’m gonna push myself to the front of the room!
Trump supporters love the Crotch Doctrine. They love that America’s President is approaching matters of a potential nuclear holocaust with the same nonsensical hyper-macho bullshit bravado as Jack Palance or John Wayne in an old spaghetti western, ordering some hapless rustler to pick up a gun just so they can kill him. The concepts of diplomacy, patience, and consensus are utterly lost on them. They’re the same people who went gooey seeing Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush in a cowboy hat. They’re children, and they’ve elected another child — one with a pathetically unimpressive peen — as their Glorious Dear Leader.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Heck, with Trump and his tiny orange penis in the White House, I’m not even honestly sure if there will be a “tomorrow.” But since we’re all still here and alive, we should all absorb the overarching lesson the Trump administration is unwittingly teaching our country: Some Americans think the American President needs to be a dick in order to get things done. They couldn’t be more wrong about that if they tried.
Trump’s penis might be great for reality television shows and the small handful of businesses he’s owned that didn’t utterly tank, but the White House? America needs more than a dick for that job. It needs more than balls, too. It needs brains. Brains packed with enough common sense to appreciate the undeniable fact that matters of diplomacy, let alone matters of nuclear warfare, require a different tool set than that of those cowboys in that spaghetti western I mentioned earlier. These things don’t require a penis, they require a brain. And to quote the late, great Robin Williams, “God gave man a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time.”
Featured image courtesy of Win McNamee/ Getty Images
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