How could they? For starters, "they" is us.

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Vanilla custard doughnuts.JPG

Trump, you say? As in "Trump, Trump, Trump the boys are marching"? Not a bad idea for a national military holiday. But not that Trump? How about this one, then?

He gets too horny to go on a date
Just grabs their pussy, assuming they rate,
Then starts to kiss 'em, hey, he's your Chief of State
That's why the Donald is a Trump.

He likes the cruel, snide Tweet without care,
Comb-over hair,
He's broke, that's oke,
That's why the Donald is a Trump.

Not that one, either? Well, I'm out of Trumps. We'll just play six no-trump, then. (Lose two tricks and you don't make your slam.)

We've been so fortunate, so very fortunate, here on the northwest coast of North America. Our climate is mild, and our biggest volcano is dormant. Our harvest this fall--apples, cherries, grapes--was once again bountiful. Our waters teem with big fish, our ports thrive with commerce.

In fact, we live in an idyllic bubble, protected somehow by the spirit of our sacred salmon and our magic mountain. The rest of the world is dark, dangerous and unpredictable. Hell, the rest of the country is dark, dangerous and unpredictable.

Geography and politics often interconnect, sometimes on the battlefield, sometimes at the ballot box, sometimes on the world's dinner plate. It's worth remembering that the Arab Spring uprising wasn't a spontaneous, pro-democracy demonstration but a protest against food shortages. Marie-Antoinette never actually said "Let them eat cake," but "If there's no bread, let them eat brioche." So if Obamacare's too much trouble, feed 'em donuts.

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This page contains a single entry by Cornichon published on November 11, 2016 3:30 PM.

What do they want? What will they eat? was the previous entry in this blog.

More than Pizza, Pizza, Pizza is the next entry in this blog.

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