A Year in Trumplandia

January: What the fuck just happened? Please come back, Obama. I love you, and I miss you.

February: Wait? Melania is how old? I thought she was just a well-preserved 50 year old with great plastic surgery. She is really in her forties? No fucking way. She is absolutely the smartest person in the Trump administration. Stay in New York despite all the money it’s costing. I wouldn’t want to be near him either.

March: Yes! Pussy hats instead of pussy-grabbing.

April: Wait? It’s only April? I feel like I have lived a year.

May: The Haidmaid’s Tale might be a documentary.

June: I like Barron Trump. He has cool t-shirts. There, I said something nice.

July: You voted for him. I didn’t.

August: Tiki torches? Good people? What the fuck is going on?

September: Honestly, my theory is that we are sea monkeys, and we have all been transferred to a different tank. Everything looks the same, but it is all different.

October: Come on, Mueller.

November: I can’t even keep up. My phone has broken under the stress of the breaking news alerts. I used to pride myself in knowing who was in the presidential administration. I don’t even know if President Trump knows who is in his administration. There was one guy that lasted only ten days! Did he even get all his forms filled out?

December: Can I have my old tank back? I am exhausted.

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