Beware the Ides of March, President Trump – the moonbats are planning to deluge you with… post cards.
I know, it sounds like fake news – very fake news, as Trump puts it – but apparently it’s true. Nothing else has slowed him down, so now the non-working classes are trying to set a world record for most pieces of mail delivered to a single person on one day, a million postcards.
Talk about lowered expectations. A little over four months ago, these pampered pukes thought they would soon be running the world. Now they’re reduced to scheming to get into the next edition of the Guinness Book of World Records.
Of course, the torrent probably won’t be what it might have been, had the storm not hit the Northeast yesterday. And how ironic is that – the snowflakes who so fervently believe in climate change couldn’t get to the Post Office because of all that global warming – in mid-March!
Al Gore could not be reached for comment.
According to reports, there’s been another problem with the alt-left’s postcard campaign. Many of the Bernie bros and Hillary hens seem clueless as to how to actually address postcards, or think they belong in envelopes. Then there’s the problem of buying stamps – does the Post Office accept EBT cards? And do illegal aliens, who get everything else for free, actually have to put stamps on their cards, just like citizens do? Can La Raza check into that?
In the meantime, here are some of the messages that will soon likely be arriving, scrawled in crayon, at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue:
“Dear Hitler: My cat Muffy has vanished. I know you and Vladimir Putin grabbed her! Give her back.”
“I had a nightmare last night. You were trying to make me get a real job after all these years. Stop the hate!”
“There’s a drone circling over my house. Can I report a war crime to 911? Can I call The Hague on my Obamaphone?”
“My dealer ran out of weed. This never happened when Obama was president, you bastard.”
“I used to think it was all Bush’s fault. Now I know better. You did it, you and the Russkies.”
“I am Muslim terrorist, I mean refugee. Cousin Dzhokhar told me I get free pressure cooker from Great Satan when I arrive. Where is it, infidel dog?”
“I just ran into Elizabeth Warren at the cheese shop and she gave me this post card to send you, you big meanie.”
“I can’t sleep since the election, and it’s your fault, not all this crystal meth I’ve been taking.”
“For your information, all immigrants are wonderful people. Except your wife, of course.”
“Trump, you’re a fascist like, uh, like – hey dude, what’s a fascist?”
“I’m a Level 3 sex offender who self-identifies as a Girl Scout. Just try to pry me out of the ladies’ room, you ‘phobe you.”
“I just got back from a March4Trump rally, where I sucker punched an old lady wearing a MAGA hat over the head with a tire iron. That’ll teach her to be so intolerant!”
“Not that you care, cracka, but I can’t buy liquor with my WIC voucher. Is there no depth to which you Republican hatemongers won’t stoop?”
“I’m so angry at you, Donald Trump, that I’m going to phone in another fake hate crime to Hold-It Healey’s fake-hate-crime hotline.”
“For your information, Mr. Bad Man, global warming is real. The Easter Bunny told me so, and I believe him.”
“I don’t get CNN anymore on the TV. My daughter says it’s because I didn’t pay the cable bill, but I know better. You had Dick Cheney shut me off.”
“I knew Glenn Beck had your number when he put his face into that bowl of crushed Cheetos.”
Somebody used to say that liberalism was a mental disorder. Somebody was right.