The Secret Truth Behind Donald Trumps Incompetency (As seen in the Washington Post) — a homosexual?—

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Never in my life did I think I would stumble upon the greatest secret in all of America. Here I was drinking in a gay bar and watching sports. (why was it on this channel)

“Bud-Light, please,” I ask the bartender. She seemed in a fowl mood and I did not blame her. Instead of getting loaded on alcohol, she was watching other’s getting loaded. She was in a bit of a catch-22. Nevertheless, I smile at her as she delivers my beer.

I was about to get up from my chair and mosey on into the courtyard. I came to this bar out of mere boredom. I had nothing else to do. Every now-and-than I would meet somebody interesting and it just so happens that I met the most fascinating man that night. He sat down beside me as he rubbed his nose perpetually.

“I love cocaine,” he muttered. “Makes me feel alive. I am very successful business man. Very successful. I beat everybody. You want to know how good I am?” He asked with this dull expression on his face. His lower lip hung down like a shirt sagging on a coat hanger.

“How?” I said with interest.

“I bought an orphanage, demolished it, built it into a hotel, and now- now it is worth millions. That’s how good I am,” he says rubbing his nose. “Bar Tender- A Shirley Temple he hollered.”

“Your a democrat aren’t you?” he asks me.

“Well, I guess you could say that,” I muttered as I took a swig of my beer.

“I hate democrats,” he said bluntly while rubbing his nose. “They are always complaining about not having food, or a place to sleep, or some stupid medical bill but oh- of course- they can buy their new iphone.”

“Well, as it just so happens, I hate republicans,” I said, and continued, “Yes, not buying a 500 phone will put a large dent in a hefty medical bills.”

He did not catch my sarcasm.

“No, you can not hate me. I am not just a republican” says the man. “I am a people person. I like black people, even though none of my friends do.” I laugh at this ladder comment, as I find it quite odd, but nevertheless, I am very attentive.

“But, and I will tell you this, but you cannot tell anybody,” he whispered so closely to my ear that I could feel his breath.

“Mexicans are ruining our country.”

“Is that a fact?” I asked.

“To me it is,” he said nonchalantly.

“Well, I do not know if that qualifies it as a fact,” I say with bent eyebrows.

“I have very reliable sources,” he says. “I am a filthy rich and guess what, I don’t pay taxes.  Got friends in the government.”

“If you knew the millions I made an hour, I tell you, you would love me!”

“Why would I love you? Your money?” I asked indifferently.

“Because I am me!” says he.

I give him a sideways glance that said, “What the fuck,” and tried to quickly down the rest of my beer. I wanted to get away from whomever this was- this maniac.

“I also have a hot daughter. You could bounce a quarter off her ass. I mean she is fine.”

I finish my beer and gaze into his soulless eyes as I realize this man was delusional and not only was this man delusional but needed help. Psychiatric help. Yes, I most certainly could picture him in a straight jacket- the way he was carrying on. Then again, it might be the cocaine talking. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and you would to if you were me. My entire life I had been judged by mishaps, while the grand picture went unnoticed.

“I think I am going to run for president! Wouldn’t that be fun? It sounds like fun. I would have all the launch codes to nuclear weapons! Imagine that! Sounds so cool.”

“You do that buddy, you go ahead and do that- I am sure you will win,” I roll my eyes and stand up to leave. “It would be like electing a monkey to the White House,” I think to myself.

“Oh, I have not given you my name he says as I was turning away.”

I shake his hand as he says, “Names Trump, Donald Trump. And a word to the wise, cocaine made me who I am today. “

“I honestly believe that,” I said with a smirk.

He continued as I tried to leave, “And if you want get a room … ya know…””

I smile at him, “Names Alex, and I think I will pass on your offer. You look like a walking STD- no offense. Besides, you must plan your presidency. I know you got big things going!” He had no idea that I was mocking him and he appeared to have the IQ of a grasshopper.

I left the bar stool and went to my car. If ever the nations rest in his hands I think I would feel that America would no longer exist. Yet, I did not give it any thought. He was most likely nobody, addicted to the power of drugs. Addicted to power.

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