His disgusting hovel of windswept combed-over hair rose from the leftover remains of an economy's car crash of unbridled greed of the 1980's as it slammed into the technology of the 90's somehow giving birth to the test tube reality television curse of celebrity; where Kardashians are considered royalty and shame is something to be confessed and then forgotten during a television news-public relations conference, because the attention span of the masses lasts no longer than the latest 24 hour news cycle.
You can smell his fascist cologne as it leaves chem-trails in the polluted skies. Whether it be through his private jet coated in gold or a helicopter dragging the subtext banner of what truly is his campaign slogan, "Make the Plantation great again," the future remains to be seen but the ends will never justify his monstrous means.
He is the bloviated white head on the face of our all too proud gun carrying country of simple minded neophytes, where most of us spend our lives wandering in the darkness of fear and ignorance, stumbling as we search for crumbs of truth among the wasteland of defeated dreams of the middle class.
The first day of his campaign should have been the last as condemned an entire portion of society, "but mostly are good people," only to move on to the nearest and dearest of the Neo-Cons hawkish attitudes in their love affair with the military-industrial-complex; the altar is in place and the scapegoats are ready for their throats to be slit.
My only wish this Christmas is to let the stain of cowardice wash-over the American media that has slovenly given him pass because he creates a never-ending desire for coverage from the press.
There is no need to speak his name, it's on everything he's ever created.
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