Remember that 1980s anti-drug campaign? The one that went, “This is drugs. This is your brain on drugs. Any questions?” You know, the one with the butter meant to represent drugs, sizzling and popping in the frying pan, and then the egg meant to represent your brain, plopping in there with it and frying up? Remember that? Anyone?
I realize I may be dating myself here, so lemme just show it to you:
That shit was profound. I mean, here I am, 30 years later, and I still remember that commercial clear as day. And it invokes in me such a sense of nostalgia. Not for drugs or anti-drug campaigns, of course, but for childhood. Because that imagery is still so vivid in my mind and reminds me of simpler days.
Which is why it TOTALLY sucks that it now also reminds me of our Crybaby in Chief.
Because instead of drugs, it’s the president, and instead of frying our brains, he’s frying our country … and our brains. He’s definitely also frying our brains.
Every time the man speaks, it’s like my head explodes all over again trying to reason out what it is he could possibly be thinking. Or what it is he even means. And the man speaks a lot, particularly for someone who seems to have very little command of the English language. I mean, I feel like each time he opens his mouth or punches his tiny little fingers into his Twitter machine, he’s like, “WERDS? WUT R THOZE?”
He’s like the kid you invite over to play Operation, but instead of carefully trying to extract the femur from the game board, he intentionally places the tweezers on the metal sides, just to hear the damn thing buzz until everyone’s ears pop out of their heads, all while laughing maniacally. And then … THEN, just to fuck with everybody a little more, he intentionally places the femur where the rib cage goes, which is his asshole way of adding his twisted little cherry to the top, because we all know someone with a femur for a rib cage is “very hard to be a 10.”
You know what else? He’s like a dog that you take out to do its business, and it just dances around in the same spot for 25 minutes, so you finally take it back inside where, precisely 5 seconds after removing its leash, it shits all over your expensive Oriental rug. But you don’t realize it has shit all over your expensive Oriental rug. Not at first. Not until the Roomba makes its way in there and then smears it around, ensuring the shit gets into all the porous fibers. Repeatedly.
Or how about a bottle of Coke? He’s like a bottle of Coke that some smart-ass clerk has shaken up right before you purchase it, and then you go to open it while driving to work and it explodes all over your one-of-a-kind, dry-clean-only shirt that you bought and wore specially for today because you have a big presentation that could make or break your next promotion and now you have to deliver it looking like you just crawled out of a sewer after a week-long bender with Pennywise.
I mean, just when you think it can’t get any worse, it gets a whole lot worse with this guy.
And don’t even get me started on the hypocrisy.
Like how he was insistent that we lock “Killary” up for using private email to conduct US business, except it’s been discovered that Jared and Ivanka have used private email to conduct US business and where’s all the “LOCK THEM UP!” chants now, huh?
Or like how in 2013 he tweeted that the president criticizing the NFL and the Washington Redskins was a waste of time and Obama needed to focus on his job, but then he led a nationwide campaign against the NFL when he should have been paying attention to the shitshow in Puerto Rico — you know, HIS JOB?
Or like how he’s the biggest bully on the planet, yet his wife has made anti-bullying her platform? I mean, WHAT? There are only two logical explanations for this: Either they are both so daft as to not even see the irony, or Melania is trolling her own husband. I’m leaning toward the latter because she’s not stupid. She speaks like 27 languages and her husband can’t even spell “heal” correctly, so I can only imagine how awful it is to be married to someone who is the intellectual inferior to your left toenail.
The man actually said, “Melania wishes she could be with us,” WHILE SHE WAS RIGHT FUCKING THERE, NEXT TO HIM, LITERALLY WITH EVERYONE. And then, of course, there was the time he forgot her name wasn’t Melanie, which was surely a slip of the fingers, but still, covfefe. It’s just one more in a long line of personal affronts. So yeah, I’d say she has motive.
Or like how he was having a dick measuring contest with a homicidal maniac who was threatening impending nuclear attack on the US because Trump can’t resist hurling insults to prove just how big his tiny little everything is and OMG at least then we wouldn’t have to endure any more. But then, just as suddenly, they’re BFFs, those two. Fucking hell.
Or like how he separates families at the border but LIES and says it’s the Democrats’ fault because it’s their law, and then when that doesn’t hold up as well, he gets his Cable News Cabinet to dig deep and find the Flores Settlement, something that was initially enacted as a humanitarian effort to protect immigrant children from detainment with their parents, and uses it to justify his own unquestionably inhumane treatment of children.
The list goes on and on. But what really gets me is how he is able to rile his base into an illogical frenzy with each and every mind-blowing comment he makes.
Like, nobody pays attention to the orange industry, for example, but if Trump tweeted tomorrow that the orange industry is anti-American because oranges are, you know, ORANGE instead of red, white, or blue, people would lose their minds, start hashtag campaigns like #BoycottOrangetards (because adding “tards” to the end of everything is their special sauce, apparently), and then accuse anyone they see eating an orange of being a terrorist, all while the oranges are just over there being oranges BECAUSE ORANGES ARE ORANGE. They’re not leading some global conspiracy to dismantle ‘Murrica. They’re just orange.
But that wouldn’t matter. Because common sense doesn’t matter.
OHMYGOD, can we just put Pence in charge already? We already know he’s truly the one running policy. At least then we’d have someone with a modicum of self-restraint and adult-like social skills and we could maybe get up each morning without wondering if today’s the day he’s going to get us all killed. I mean, he’s definitely going to get us killed. He’s worse and even more dangerous in a quiet, sly, I’mma hide behind my Bible over here and pretend I’m not a Sith Lord kind of way. But it’ll be a slower and less exhausting process. Maybe? I don’t know.
If we can’t do that, can we definitely at least get some better drugs? Because whatever the 1980s said drugs would do to our brains, it’s better than what’s happening to them on Trump.