i wish i could do a series like this with donnie-john-trump. wish i could nestle a nice gourd in that sinthetic bristle-nest. he may lack the balance of my mister but he got stiff hair. do you think it's real? if it is, i still, even moreso, imagine it, after being held hostage of state all day on that whacked cranium, desperately defecting en masse when the golem nods into narcosis, going awol under the sideboard.

imagine his crinkly hair finally relaxing, chanting, we are free! let's party!