And the award for being good at everything just because you say so goes to…gee, who could it be..?/Image: Licensed Adobe stock: Karen Roach.
In the latest instance of independent, legitimate, and valid organizations honoring President Donald J. Trump for his towering achievements in various fields, Trump named, appointed, and paid a panel to attach their names to an empty accolade that only Fox News viewers with advanced dementia believe to be true–in this case the Donald J. Trump Award for Outstanding Literary Performance by a Human Cheeto. And the winner was….Donald J. Trump! Come on up, Donald!
Thunderous applause shook the Donald J. Trump Auditorium in Trumpville, North Trump where the award ceremony took place, and the world fell off its axis from the force of so many people standing up at once to deliver the standing ovation Trump got. Seventy-three people were diagnosed with hearing impairment on the spot due to the high decibel-level of the cheers that provided the soundtrack for Trump’s triumphant climb onto the stage to receive the award for most good-est wryter. Trumpville is a city the hardest-working President in all of human, animal, insect, germ, bacteria, viral, and mitochondrial history fashioned with his own, two gargantuan mitts that bespeak a large penis size, and that city’s located in a state Trump carved out of Mexico because they owe it to us to store all his money, limos, mansions, pools, jets, diamonds, and pet dinosaurs. The dinosaurs, in particular, could not be housed anywhere near Trump, as they get spooked when even his name is uttered in their presence because of how ferocious and generally amazing he is.
Related: Smart TVs are making right-wingers dumber–here’s how!
“This is a meaningless piece of crap and you’re all idiots for giving it to me,” Trump said after standing on stage for seven days and seven nights waiting for the audience in Trump Auditorium to calm down. Cheers erupted from the audience, and all the women fainted from loving Trump too much. Luckily, they regained their composure in time to see Trump pop his color and unbutton a few buttons on his shirt, shrugging spasmodically like the New Jersey guido he aspires to be, then. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you people? Why do you make it so easy for me to make a fool of you? Melania cried the night I was elected because she thought she’d have to share my wondrousness with all of you. Not so! I don’t have to try at all, I just kinda do whatever I feel like, say whatever I feel like, and you morons applaud like a bunch of sheep.” Then the audience began barking like they used to on Arsenio Hall.
When the President put this panel together, which he worked on day-in and day-out until actual blood came forth from his fingertips, he really wanted to find the most transparent, insulting way to heap praise on himself and have the fawning dunderheads known as Trump Supporters lick his boots in response, said Lord Trump, a Trumpville native whom DNA tests recently proved is the son Trump had by fucking himself. Trump named him Executive Director of the Donald J. Trump Literaree Phoundayshun when Evangelicals said it was all right with them that he fathered a child out of wedlock. Before that, he denied Lord’s existence and called it “fake news.”
“My dad…and mom, actually, because I sprung forth from Trump’s penis in an act of Alt-parthenogenesis–President Trump–justt had a CAT scan proving that most of his brain has rotted like a mango left out in the sun–but CAT scan technology is a Liberal Loony Lie. See, the thing is, there’s no such thing as ‘truth’ or ‘reality’ anymore. All of what the rest of the world thinks of as facts are simply bits of information that Trump supporters like me can and will massage like putty into whatever shape is most supportive of what we want to be true,” said Whothehell Cares, an unemployed opiate addict who voted for Trump in the 2016 presidential election that Russia conducted in the U.S. of A.
The one-person panel of the Donald J. Trump Literary Phoundayshun that Trump does none of the work but takes all of the credit for awarded Trump the nation’s most prestigious award for writing based on three criteria, Cares said. It determined that based on Trump’s use of language as a crassly utilitarian tool to achieve nearsighted goals of political expediency, a blunt cudgel to induce blunt-force trauma on whatever cultural out-groups he deems it necessary to demonize at any given moment, and thoughtless afterthought in his leading the American charge off the edge of the cliff of relevance he deserved not opprobrium and exile but a commendation and encouragement. What better way to give an ingrate gratitude than a cheap piece of plastic art on an even-cheaper-piece-of-plastic stand!
And: See how you can support troops in a Trumpian trade war.
When Trump wandered on stage with an odd mix of insecurity-based bravado, ungracious insouciance, and full-on dickery to accept the award, First Lady Melania Trump joined him, as did his children, Baron Trump, Donlad Trump, Jr., and Eric Trump. Trump asked daughter Tiffany to wait in the car and cracked a window so she wouldn’t suffocate or die of heatstroke while her stepmother and the children he’s proud of because they’re trophies much like the one he received celebrated inside. Melania wore a $60 trillion dollar dress emblazoned with the words STOP WHINING IMMIGRANT KIDS IN DETENTION CAMPS and her usual stone-faced expression. What she thought or said is much less important, therefore not something SYRW noted or will write about than what she wore. Her clothes, after all, are a barometer of how alluring she is to men, and that’s really all dames are good for.
Also in the running for the award that Trump non-achieved were no one, nobody, and who? This is because it was created simply to polish his ego and to provide a spectacle for the bread-and-circus-loving dullards who love to do things against their own best interests–which even an amoeba doesn’t–known as Trump’s Base.
“I wish I could have gone in with my family. But I guess I’ll just sleep around–maybe become a stripper–to deal with how hurt I am,” Tiffany said, extending three fingers out of the ajar window in the car she waited in, as if to reach out for love.
Also: Decorating tips for your own immigrant children’s detention center.
We at Spread Your Right Wings generally don’t like people, the Internet, or interacting with people on the Internet. Seek out someone—in person—to talk to and laugh with about this article. Check back with us as we continue to mock the right wing. Follow us on Twitter at @worstaltlife join our Facebook group, and follow us on Instagram at @worstaltlife. If you simply must get in touch with us, DM us through our Facebook group. Also, please, please see the disclaimer in our About section.