Yesterday I proposed an imaginary scenario where current
president of the United States himself dictator wannabe, Donald “Roger Doltrey Of The Who: The Current Waning Line-up” Trump died, and who would attend his measly funeral. I would like to take this time to continue with my discourse. Without imposing sympathy on this vile being, it would surely be the saddest event of all time. Indeed, sad.
First of all, his closest family members will not be in attendance, for they will all be rotting in cushy corporate prisons. All those who were ever loyal to him would behave like dogs off the leash for the first time and pee on everything, as well as hump anything not moving, instead of attending. Otherwise, they too will have been incarcerated, thus unable to be at the funeral of the best president ever, maybe even better than Lincoln. Who knows, who can say?
Betsy “Greedy Racist” DeVos will definitely be there, but she won’t know it, until Rick “Stupid Racist” Perry shows up, also unknowingly. Together, they will figure something out, realize there is no open bar, and abruptly leave like cartoon characters dashing out so fast, they leave their clothes behind.
Since honor breeds honor, don’t expect that contingency. On the topic of miserable dishonored souls, if Scott Baio can avoid jail, he would probably show up, unless DirectTV® has free HBO® that weekend.
The silence would be maddening, because every songwriter, including the public domain, would refuse to allow his or her songs to be used by the dead pig.
Speaking of dead pigs, there will be no food, for every caterer in town will turn down his business, for they have all been cheated by him at least once, the slower ones, twice and up to five times. TRIVIA: They are the same people who attended Trump University™ and then voted for him in 2016.
All in all, his funeral will look like a Blockbuster® storefront that has remained vacant since its closing over a decade ago, with one lonely VHS copy of Zapped! amongst empty racks and microwave Blockbuster popcorn™ bags surprisingly undisturbed by the cockroaches and vermin.
At some point the Trump estate will have wished they allowed people to spit on the corpse to beef up attendance. Little do they realize, these people, and there are many, are waiting at Trump’s burial site, salivating and hockering up serious goobers.