Midnight Meme Of The Day!

-by Noah

I look at this picture and I wish I had 3 fists to give for my country. 3 fists with spiked brass knuckles. Let it rip.

I'm an Old Testament kind of guy. Hammurabi's code and all that. An eye for an eye. If a man (or woman) be found a thief, cut off their hand. I look at the Trumps and I ask where is that Old Testament god that smites the evil and unrighteous? Hell, where is that sick god that even tormented the good Abraham like a cat torments a cockroach, for, yea, the Trump's are cockroaches. They are not even righteous like poor Abe. The Trumps are a whole family of cockroaches. They carry disease. They are a disease. They are a pestilence being visited upon us all, even those who continue to support them.

Along with the Story of Abraham, one of the earliest stories I remember, from the Bible or anywhere else, is the story of Lot's wife. God had told Lot to admonish his family not to look back as they fled the hellfire and brimstone being rained down upon their soon to be ex-city by the vengeful god. Lot's wife just couldn't help herself, though. She looked back, and God turned her into a pillar of salt. Neat trick. Damn, I wish I could do that one! The world would never lack for salt.

So tonight, I think what if we had a god who would do the right thing? What if God would turn the whole Trump family into pillars of salt? Man, wouldn't it be even better if that god added the delicious touch of then leaving the pillars of Trumps out in the rain?

Better yet, tonight I offer a prayer to any god who might be listening (fat chance):

Dear God, I plead, I beg, I beseech you! Please turn the Trumps not into pillars of salt but something even more just, a punishment that fits, as Hammurabi would decree, the crime! Something that, maybe, offers some poetic justice related to the Trump New York connection. That's it. That's the ticket!

Dear God, please turn the Trumps into men's room toilets at Penn Station.