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| A Report From The Desk of a Widely Respected Expert | Started by: DonaldTrump on Jul 04, '17 08:58 |
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Bizarre things have started happening to Donald J. Trump. For the first time in his life, he is lonely. He sits alone in his HQ, in charge of a crew with no members, and he wonders, 'Why me?'. Little does Donald know, strange things have started to happen. Strange...otherworldy things. For a man with an IQ like Donald's - mathematically-indecently high - and charm, suave, and sophistication to round out a gold-leaf personality, it seemed shocking to him that he would spend his days by himself in Manhattan, with no one to caddy for him or kick up taxes. But there is no explanation for the ethereal - like the legendary forest-beast Biglyfoot skulks and scampers with nary a sighting. Little did he know that there is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we - some of the most respected experts, doctors and physicists in the entire world, believe me - call The Donald Zone. Though we suspect our pumpkin-spiced hero had found himself mixed up in precisely such an extradimensional casserole, he could not know it himself. He spent his days wondering: was it a curse? Some form of voodoo? One night, he sunk to his knees, rested his elbows on his bed, and clasped his hands. If God could not help him, no one could. A voice, the depths and richness of which seemed imperceptible, spoke to him. "A leader without power must press his ear to the rabble. An ivory tower begets contempt, your pretension will earn disdain. Do no separate yourself from the men you wish to lead. They are your brothers. There is no race to the seat of dominion that can be won alone. You must be wise and visible - make use of these streets to earn your support. Show why you are a man that deserves to be followed as any leader acts by example. You have earned your suit by pure chance - a fluke - as a man lowly-ranked, with no history here and barely a friend to your name. You, more than anyone, must prove that there is desire, knowledge, and good judgment within you, and not to yourself, but to the world around you. You are the jester over a trap door. Earn the ground you stand on." The Donald only sighed. He remembered why he'd stopped doing this. He was a man with remarkable wealth, a healthy head of hair, and a closet-full of pants of which pulled up past his belly button and still had the length to soak up the dirt and moisture on the ground - precisely the fashion of the time. It could not be he who was the problem. No, some sinister, mystical puppetmaster was at play and he knew it. And we - as very, very respected experts - can only begin to imagine the magnitude and tapestry of supergravitational forces of which could conspire to keep a man like him from success and adoration. |
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IbrahimAlHulandi walks past DonaldTrump's ivory tower and marvels at the amazing stone. He looks around to see if no-one sees him and when he was sure of that he quickly touched it.. As he did, he witnessed a fashionably overlength-trousered DonaldTrump leave the office and Ibi quickly retreated his hand.. Lovely place you have here, Mister Trump. As if he could read minds, Ibrahim said: |
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| Reply by: IbrahimAlHulandi at Jul 04, '17 10:11 | |
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Donnie spotted the Handsome fella who goes by the name Donald Trump, or MrT to his friends, of which I feel myself slowly becoming. "I say chap, you seem to be doing a good job so far, yet just the other day I saw a slanderous poem nailed to the noticeboard down on 5th, it read"
Donnie snorted, "They must mean somebody else because I know for a fact that your candy antics are the life and soul of the party not to mention the late night service calls and pick n mix. Not to worry I replaced that disgrace with a poem of my own" Donnie clears his throat.
He throws a wink at T's direction. "Well aint that the truth!" |
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| Reply by: DonnieTheLionHeart at Jul 07, '17 00:50 | |
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I thought the state of the union address was anually in January? |
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| Reply by: James at Jul 07, '17 01:01 | |
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"You thought wrong sir James-a-lot! MrT works on his own time, he gets the job done, he mails a man, that man shows up. He grabs a breast, that breast belongs to him now, if he wanted to let's say build a wall, by jove he'll do it. This man can move mountains, he's making waves, better grab your anarak and stay clear from the splash zone" Donnie continues to nod |
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| Reply by: DonnieTheLionHeart at Jul 07, '17 01:17 | |
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My father used to tell me, Donnie, nobody likes a poet. They're poor. Poor people are the worst, Donnie. The worst. Listen - as someone who lives in a penthouse that looks like it's been decorated by King Midas' diarrhoea, I can tell you about wealth. You want to be rich enough to make everything you do, wear, use, live in, and drive terrible. New suit? Make the sleeves a little bit too long. New car? Paint it a totally indecent colour. Don't even buy a tie that fits. You buy it too long, and you fold it up and tape it. Why? Because you're insanely rich, and that makes you insane. You see what I'm saying, Donnie? Nobody can tell you a damn thing. You live life as awfully as you can, in your gold-leafed apartment full of poorly taxidermied African wildlife, and you do it because you can. But back to your poem, Donnie - what a poem, magnificent stuff. Apart from the golfing, Donnie. I'm a great golfer. Practice makes perfect. In my case, practice makes more perfect. Ha ha. You see what I did there, Donnie? Grab your bags, guy. Let's hit the links. James - once a year doesn't quite do it for old Donald-Come-Lately. The world has got to hear what I have to say. I'm the one thing separating this world from becoming a dang oysters rockefeller-esque abomination. I'm au naturale. I'm serving up portions of truth serum to the people. We'll do a state of the union every week. Every day! The crowds will be here. They love it. They love me. Look at this crowd. Holy smokes. There's got to be a million people out here. Nearly the size of my crew. And we're growing. Nobody can stop us. Not even the Chinese gangs down on Henry Street. |
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| Reply by: DonaldTrump at Jul 09, '17 18:53 | |
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"You're a wise man there Donald. I could really learn a lot from you. Need to work on the ol' bank balance first then the rest will fall in place. Living off hand me downs the now but when ive made a fast buck I'll be getting a nice suit, might even get it one size bigger than I need, a tie too. The biggest you've ever seen."
<em>Donnie smiles he knew he'd be living in a penthouse wearing suits and groping boobies in no time</em> |
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| Reply by: DonnieTheLionHeart at Jul 09, '17 19:00 | |
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