A New York grand jury voted to indict the former president, while his Florida rival is traveling the country hunting for campaign cash, and Rep. Lauren Boebert appears fixated on public urination.
#Colbert #Comedy #Monologue
A New York grand jury voted to indict the former president, while his Florida rival is traveling the country hunting for campaign cash, and Rep. Lauren Boebert appears fixated on public urination.
#Colbert #Comedy #Monologue
WOW THE POP FOR HEARING THAT TR*** WAS INDICTED WAS AMAZING!
ReplyBobo is more concerned about peeing in public than the fact that guns are the number one cause of death in children. Only in America. Vote the gun worshipers out!
ReplyYou don’t play with Disney.
ReplyYou know it’s a momentous occasion when Stephen says/doesn’t censor the former president’s name. At least he’s giving credit where it’s deserved. XDDDD
ReplyONCE TRONALD DUMP IS ARRESTED/CHARGED WE SHOULD ALL TYPE IN CAPITAL LETTERS TO MAKE FUN OF TRONALD DUMP AS WELL AS TO SHOW SOLIDARITY WITH THE POOR SECRET SERVICE AGENTS WHO WILL HAVE TO STAY IN THE PRISON CELL WITH HIM.
Reply0:02 – that scream from the audience member….GOLD! haha
Reply*_” The night a quite eerie occurrence befell (Night-) Mare-a-Lago “_* {Somewhat actualized, slightly extended..}
It was a lovely starlit night beyond the artificially lightened land, when a blood-curdling scream brutally shattered the quiet.
It came from the humble abode of the ex president.
trump continued to screech although he now was fully awake, trashing heavily about in his sweat soaked bed, desperately trying to get free of the wet, clinging sheets. Never had he had a dream like this; it was pure horror. He heaved for air and started sobbing and howling pitifully. The nightmare had been so terribly vivid, and it felt so real still, so terribly, unfamiliarly real…
In his dream he had woken up, turned on the TV as usual, and there was nothing there about *HIM* !
Not even Fox news talked about him. Not even CNN. There was not a word, and not a picture of him anywhere on social media, nor in any newspaper. No mention of him anywhere on the radio. Next thing he knew, he was holding a news conference. But something was dreadfully wrong; the TV cameras were not rolling, the journalists were not taking notes nor raising their arms to ask questions. Frantic, with a crumbling sensation, he regaled them with the most magnificent lie he could think of; only to be met with turning backs and graveyard silence. It was as if all hot air leaked out of him, he felt like he was imploding. In the dream he woke up again and realized he no longer was the president, and an odd mix of relief and despair filled him.
Then he remembered that he was the successful, famous and popular owner of Truth Social and a gleeful yelp escaped him as he grabbed his phone to revel in all the massive praise and glory of his very own tremendously glamorous person.
The pages were never-ending.
Side up and side down, they were all a complete blank.
All of a sudden he found himself standing in the middle of 5th Avenue;
there were people everywhere, people smiling and talking, buying ice cream and popcorn from street vendors, hoisting laughing children onto their shoulders as if awaiting some kind of celebration. No one ever looked his way. The dismay he felt was suffocating, petrifying. He felt as though he was losing all sense of himself. The voices of the multitude surrounding him faded, until there was an absolute silence. Suddenly a sound like a shot rang out, and he recoiled in fear looking at his hands, expecting them to be blackened by sooty powder, in his inner ear he heard screams, in his inner eye he saw fingers pointing at him and rough hands coming for him, hands that didn’t bother protect his head as they rammed him into a car.
But the people around him took no notice, and continued oblivious of him; they were a colorful crowd, a joyous crowd, a hugely immense crowd. A paralyzing desolation invaded him. Just then sounds began to creep back all around him, and he became aware that the masses of people, of whom many were now dancing in the streets, were cheering and chanting his name!
But also another word, an ugly word, a word that had no business being together with his name…
The desperate righteousness that hearing this word produced in him, made even the weak hairs on his scalp stand on end.
It was chillingly clear to him that this was not his kind of crowd; these were not the manipulable people he despised so dearly. Where were _they,_ the people whose stupidity he loved and who in return loved the untruths and derision he so generously bedazzled them with?
Panic set his bowels churning when it struck him that maybe he had been grifting them too greedily, leaving them without even the bus fare to come to his defense when he needed to muster them. _They,_ his adoring troops. That there was an absolute absence of red hats amidst the surrounding celebratory crowd, kindled within him a dreadful, gut-throttling sensation of being starved of all nourishment.
The sudden, sharp shot-like sound, he now realized, had come from within him; a crack, and it was followed by several smaller cracks, as if something hard but brittle, dry and porous was breaking up. And an awful smell filled his nostrils, of something stale and greasy. It made him gag, as he did so his eyes fell on his arms, and that was when the scream that woke him up exploded from his throat: his arms were disintegrating. They were turning into orange particles that floated, shimmering, in the air before him.
Shaking his head as though trying to rid it of the horrid impressions from the nightmare, trump slowly became aware of noises around him; doors banging, people shouting, running steps approaching. Still sobbing but feeling slightly comforted by the sound of people, he turned on the light, just as fists started banging on his door and voices shouted for him to open, asking if he was OK. He managed to twist himself free from the stubbornly clutching bedclothes, almost falling out on the floor in so doing. There was a sharp crack from his back.
As trump stumbled soggily towards the door, sniffling softly and whimpering, light fell onto tiny puddles of sweat among the folds of his sheets; orange dust floated, shimmering, on the surface.
And just as trump reached out a dwindling tiny hand towards the door, the repulsive stench from the nightmare brusquely, lividly, assaulted his nostrils again: something stale, greasy, cheesy…
More desperate now to get fresh air more than anything, trump is about to turn around to try make a dash for the windows.
ReplyBut this is when he is surprised by an ever so slight breeze hitting his feverish forehead and gently lifting a few delicate hairs. Almost losing his balance, flailing his arms, what he discerns through still moist eyes and swirling orange particles is not anymore a solid door, but glinting, solid bars.
Colbert is a Disney shill. Who else could have guessed?!
ReplyI’m proud to be an American, where at least trump aint free. You can thank Alvin Brag, who bagged that POS for me!!!
ReplyBimbo Boebert is such an idiot. Such an embarrassment to the entire human race. It is hilarious that she tries to act like a big girl.
ReplyThis was the best birthday present I could have ever asked for!! I ate two servings of cheesecake in celebration!
ReplyYou leftists have set a dangerous precedent. You keep demonizing conservatives as if they have nothing valid in their arguments. They are correct in many aspects. Trump is one man that challenged both Democrats and Republicans. You call for war and revolution. This only moves us closer to physical conflict. What is the endgame for you leftists?
ReplyBoebert resurrects the pee-pee tape conspiracy!
ReplyTapeworm. Ha. Nailed it.
Reply