A little nourishment and Don Jon’ll be good to go!/Image: Licensed Adobe stock, Steve Mutch.
Gustatory Greetings, Tasty Traditionalists!
You know what they say, dear Spread Your Right Wings (SYRW) readers–or maybe you don’t, because you’re not that smart, given that you’re right-wing and reading this website: desperate times call for desperate measures. The desperate times, I, Julia Kidd, SYRW’s new culinary correspondent, refer to are the ones that will ensue should our dear, poor, defenseless President Donald Trump is forced to testify under oath by Michael Avenotti, the mean, inconsiderate lawyer of a one Ms, Stormy Daniels. Avenotti has petitioned the court to compel Trumpykins to testify in court regarding the lawsuit Daniels filed to have her non-disclosure agreement (NDA) nullified, as reported by The Guardian and every other media outlet on Earth yesterday,
Vampires, Beware
For centuries, cloves of garlic strung together, often in a stretch of gauzy cheesecloth, have hung in kitchens around the Western world. This yummy, bulbous gustatory treat, when added to otherwise bland food, makes it come alive with depth, zing, and pizzazz! Too much of it can make your breath noxious, repellent, and hideously thick, if you know what I mean, however. After a garlic-heavy meal, it’s not unusual for people to run screaming from you to escape the beige-colored haze that wafts out of your every pore, and certainly your mouth, like, I don’t know, when you have to lie under oath about sexing Stormy Daniels.
The onion is another plant of the bulb family that adds a spicy, tangy, zippy dimension to a dish or meal that would otherwise make one look as doped up as Housing and Urban Development Secretary Ben Carson in reaction to its ho-hum-ness. Why Western culture doesn’t tout the onion as a demon-keeper-at-bay is a mystery to me readers! It makes your breath nasty, and our legally beleaguered leader could use it, too, to shirk his responsibility to fess up about Stormy D!
We respectfully advise Trump to partake of a generous shmear of our garlic and onion paste, which his personal chef can make by blending together–you guessed it–garlic and onion. You know, readers, we righties are smarter than people give us credit for! Anyhow, Trump should pile this paste on a slab of bread and go to town, ripping off chunks as huge as possible as fast as possible, right before he enters the courtroom, judge’s chamber’s, or wherever he ends up testifying about ol’ Stormy.
He should wash it down with the blackest, strongest coffee possible, as stale coffee breath is, as perpetrated on coworkers by some here in the SYRW offices, even worse than garlic and/or onion breath.
Related: Right-wing dance crazes that are sweeping the nation.
When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go
Thank the God that Trump is such a strong believer in, and by that, we mean the God he claims to be a strong believer in when it’s politically expedient for him…where were we? Oh, right: thank god there are two things no human can be expected to ignore and, really, simply can’t after a certain point. Those are the closely-related urges to urinate and defecate.
So, we recommend, with all due deference, that just before he gets ready to get on the stand or sit around an arbitration table or what have you in the matter of Stormy Daniel’s lawsuit, that Trump eats three cobs of corn as fast as possible. No one over 70 that I know can digest that yellow vegetable, and it usually comes spewing out of their back door nether regions like water out of a firetruck hose. So, after not digesting all that corn, Trump would need to hold it in until the do-or-die, life-on-the-line questions start. He could then insist on being excused, and because he’s an adult toddler incapable of masking or moderating what he’s feeling and thinking, the pained look on his face, his legs crossed in panic, and his rapidly contracting abdominal muscles will signal to the judge, and/or jury, and/or opposing counsel that he must–simply must!–be excused for a bathroom break. Ha, ha! Catch him if you can, liberal suckers!
Stormy…or Windy?
Since time immemorial, farts have been making both the farter and those around her uncomfortable, angry, panicky, and downright sick! A meal that would induce wind to break from Trump’s orange keister is another idea that would assist Trump in skirting the issue when Avenotti or others asked him if he had sexual intercourse with Daniels and/or made her sign a non-disclosure agreement about it.
We humbly offer Trump’s personal chef this recipe for a bean and lentil casserole provided by the good folks at Genius Kitchen. If Agent Orange devours the entire thing 20 minutes before being the target of questions regarding Daniels, the NDA, hush money, or what have you, several “issues,” shall we say, will see to it that he can sidestep them with the toe-tapping skill of Fred Astaire! Believe me, Julia Kidd, I’ve eaten enough bean-and/or-lentil-based meals to know just the kind of flatulence they fill ones colon with, a kind that demands to be let out. It’s out, loud, and proud, much like those LGBT folks who won’t keep quiet about being weird. The trumpet-tuba-and-horn-like sounds ejecting from Trump’s patootie will be the first level of distraction, interruption, and hindrance that will put a wrench in any plans Avenotti or others have to legally trip-up our admittedly easily tripped up Alt-president.
Then there’s the odor. No one–not one person, bleeding-heart, generic-liberal, centrist, right-wing, Alt-right–can stand the foul, toxic, all-too-organic smell of a fart. It’s simply impossible. So, once the deposition area is blanketed in the oppressive stench of Trump’s digestive system breaks down into their constituents of beans and lentils, the judge will have no choice but to excuse Trump, even calling a recess if the smell is potent, putrid, and pugnacious enough.
And: A page out of the personal diary of everyone’s favorite sexpot-psycho!
A Little to the Left
Next up on this list meals that are nasty for different reasons is Tastykakes. Yes, those overprocessed, chemical-tasting, chocolate cupcakes in plastic wrapping with a squiggle of white icing across the top could be Trump’s ticket out of telling the truth, which he’s never done, so why start now?
Anyway, if farting up a Stormy is too embarrassing for Alt-Don, he could eat four of these–they come two to a pack–biting down into them and chewing primarily with his front teeth, minutes before he’s set to begin performing his one-man show, “I Didn’t Do It–Obama, Hillary–Very Unfair.” When he opens his gullet to hold forth on not having done the nasty with Stormy, they’ll be covered in dark brown foodstuffs. It’ll look so gross, like his teeth are rotting, really, we’re sure the judge will insist he excuse himself to clean up his chompers.
Also: More advice on how to bag a Donald, courtesy of Stormy D’s 60 Minutes interview.
Mind you, dear SYRW readers, these meals are designed to stimulate the visceral, powerful, reflexive capacity for disgust that we on the right seemed to have lost despite our merry, glib, and oh-so-flippant excuse-making, justifying, and right-wing rationalizing in the face of the daily affronts to everything it means to be human that come forth from our beloved Treasonous Trump. Liberals, it would seem, continue to be burdened by pesky things like the abilities to react with horror, revulsion, and outrage at appropriate moments. That’s why we call them Snowflakes and Pearl-Clutchers–because they’re so delicate and la-de-frickin’-da! We can only assume the judge, jury, and opposing counsel in the Stormy Daniels lawsuit is the same, given that they still, by the looks of it, retain traits that are essential to the existence of social mammals, i.e., the vomit reflex, the gag reflex, and the capacity to smell a pile of bullshit when they see one. Such poor saps, those left-wingers!
Also, these hideous, stinky, and generally, stomach-churning meals we advise Trump to eat pre-Stormy deposition are just the first step. He’ll need to keep a bag in the nearest bathroom in whatever building this deposition happens–if it does–complete with a government-issued ID, a passport, and a social security card, along with a disguise, for the fake identity his legal team conjures up for him. Perhaps he could be Paco Guitierrez, a Mexican immigrant who works at the 7-11 on Constitution Avenue and 7th Street. He’ll then need to climb out of the window and run–run for his life! We Alt-ies will never, ever admit we made a horribly wrong choice in naming him our leader or admit he’s ever done anything wrong, and we’ll do whatever it takes to see that he never pays for the endless litany of unethical, immoral, illegal things he’s done and continues to do.
I, Julia Kidd, have loved every moment we’ve spent together, SYRW readers, in this, my first Food post for this prestigious website. But I better skedaddle if I’m gonna find–or pull out of thin air–more ridiculous right-wing meal, snack, and general-culinary ideas to tickle your Alt-tastebuds with next week. Until then, bon appetit, cheers, and eat, drink, and be merry as Donnykins dismantles democracy!
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© 2018 Akbar Khan
