The author of this august journal has nothing more to offer on the Trump debacle. Indeed, he, for it is a he, is as tired of it as you probably are. Perhaps we have already gone too far when the press conjugate on the possibility of a Secret Service agent having prosthetic hands to better grasp whatever weaponry is harboured in his trousers.
No more
We are going to build a great wall. Yes, we are. I build tremendous walls. It’ll be great.
However, Fryday is close to the Trump Camp, through no fault of its own, and it is our understanding that there is soon to be revealed a body of correspondence between the 45th President of the United States and God. It appears that He, God, has much to learn about The Art of the Deal.
But, that is for the future and Fryday has no control over that. What it does control, however, is the present and the recent past. And the recent past, the inauguration, has presented us with one photo that Fryday feels to be more poignant, more telling, than the millions of others that captured the nadir of reality television. This one photograph must seer our minds and forever brand our history.
Look upon it and weep.
Weep upon what the world has lost and what awaits.
There is class and there is not.
No more
We are going to build a great wall. Yes, we are. I build tremendous walls. It’ll be great.
However, Fryday is close to the Trump Camp, through no fault of its own, and it is our understanding that there is soon to be revealed a body of correspondence between the 45th President of the United States and God. It appears that He, God, has much to learn about The Art of the Deal.
But, that is for the future and Fryday has no control over that. What it does control, however, is the present and the recent past. And the recent past, the inauguration, has presented us with one photo that Fryday feels to be more poignant, more telling, than the millions of others that captured the nadir of reality television. This one photograph must seer our minds and forever brand our history.
Look upon it and weep.
Weep upon what the world has lost and what awaits.
There is class and there is not.
