Yep, America's Worst Human Is Still President

Here’s what the President of the United States has been up to:

3000 people did not die in the two hurricanes that hit Puerto Rico. When I left the Island, AFTER the storm had hit, they had anywhere from 6 to 18 deaths. As time went by it did not go up by much. Then, a long time later, they started to report really large numbers, like 3000....

...This was done by the Democrats in order to make me look as bad as possible when I was successfully raising Billions of Dollars to help rebuild Puerto Rico. If a person died for any reason, like old age, just add them onto the list. Bad politics. I love Puerto Rico!

(from Trump's twitter)

I think I’m never quite unaware that the president of the United States is insanely awful.

Like probably most other people, I wear it around at all times, like a sodden and rotting wool sweater, scratchy at my neck and damp in my armpits and always, always, inescapably reeking. But still. Sometimes that awfulness crystallizes itself; sometimes it is like that crystallization has been chopped to a fine powder and blasted up my nose.

Holy shit, man. The worst person alive—the pettiest, smallest, emptiest, most dishonest, most malignant shit-for-brains you could ever imagine, just an absolute worthless interpretively man-shaped lint clump from the absolute bottom of the human genetic drain—is the president.

It’s not like presidents have never before rhetorically erased the preventable mass deaths of innocent people, and their own complicity therein. They certainly have!

But there’s a horror particular to the blithe way this senile penny-ante crook rolls out of bed, whips out his goddamn phone, and just straight-up belches it out.

How easily he’d feed to the memory hole any number of real whole actual people—their whole lives, their nightmarish early deaths, the monstrous failure of the society he oversees to look after them and help keep them safe—to ease what’s, for him, unburdened as he is by conscience or accountability or decency, no more than an itch on the side of his nose.

Not empty thoughts and prayers, not even It wasn’t my fault, but They never existed. They don’t even get to have existed, if what happened to them, how they died, doesn’t gratify Donald Trump.