The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Barely out of the courtroom that found our Prez–in –Exile guilty of 34 felonies, the man hauled himself over to an Ultimate Fighting Championship in Joisey, what the New York Times called a hypermasculine appeal to the fans there. They went wild, they cheered, they pumped their fists, they obviously sensed (or smelled) the Huuge testosterone fog of our former Commander-in-Chief wafting across the sweat-filled arena. Sure, he’s beyond fighting weight now, hair pretty much gone, small hands soft as a baby’s, never worked a physical day in his life, never went to a gym to exercise, couldn’t lift anything heavier than a Diet Pepsi if his life depended on it. But hey, here he was in all his fat ass hypermasculine glory, reveling in the adulation of fight fans who could care less if he was a convicted felon. In fact, maybe a year or two in a federal pen might amp up his cred with these folks, hard time, no problem for the Donald. He’s their warrior, their Avenger, the guy who put it to Stormy Daniels and that other porn star, what’s her name?

Oh yeah, here’s the poster boy for Machismo. A guy who cheats at the only sport he knows, golf. Okay, marriage too. Not sure what his handicap is there but I’m betting Huuge, isn’t everything in his braggart telling? A real man’s man. A role model for the fight crowd. A tough talking, take no prisoners, call it like it is, kiss my ass street thug. Maybe our next President. Again. What’s not to love? Compares himself now to Al Capone. And why not? He’s a cheap crook, a con from the get-go, a real killer or maybe he will be if he wins in November.

So what’s with all the crybaby whining? Waaah, waaah, the government is picking on me, the nasty people in the Justice Department are out to get me, that Georgia prosecutor hates me, Judge Merchan treated me so very very badly, my beautiful wife won’t sleep with me anymore, I’m a victim, I’m a martyr, I’m suffering for your sins. Vote for me or they’ll be coming for you next. Send money to me or the bad mean people will take it from you when I don’t win. Send more money, all you can, I’m just a poor billionaire. Buy more of my crappy merch, buy another MAGA hat, buy those tennis shoes, they’re the greatest, like me! Waaah.

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