A Handy Guide to Disrespecting Cheeto Satan
In 2 days, the mascot of white supremacy and proof that God sometimes rushes through the creation process, Donald Trump the Dusty Degenerate, will be sworn in as president of the United States. And the four horsemen of the apocalypse will ride in as Jesus emerges behind them with a whip and proceeds to beat his ass (like they beat Kunta Kinte) before putting us all out of our misery.
Well, one of those things is likely. The latter is too kind a result. We don’t deserve the rapture. We gotta sit here and live in a world where our leader is a guy who shouldn’t even run on a treadmill, let alone run a country. And every day since November 8, I’ve had gagging episodes where I feel sick to my stomach and heave when I realize that this is really happening.
It has not gotten easier, as every day ushers in new fuckshit from the Trump Dump. Either way, now I’m in survival mode.
The 45th president of the United States happens to be a man who has the intellect and temperament of a spoiled toddler. This poor excuse for a breathing specimen also happens to be a racist, misogynist, xenophobe and arguably, a rapist. ANDDDD he has the nerve to have spent the last 8 years disrespecting the hell out of our current president, Barack Obama.
I know that Empress Duchess Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama, Queen of my heart, said “when they go low, we go high.” But see? I’m going to act like she followed that up with a silent “except when it comes for Donald Trump, then all bets are off.” I need that, because that dude goes so low that I feel like we have no choice but to go gutter.
So, gotta give it right back. I already told y’all I am not playing nice with him. I am committing to disrespecting that thing that is about to be ruling our country, for my own shits and giggles. Especially when we all know he’s the most sensitive summabish this side of the Equator. Him and this fast ass Twitter fingers.
I never knew that the POTUS could be such a whiny little Twitter ho. Anything is possible.
Bruh gotta get these jokes and this work. And usually, I have limits when it comes to what I make fun of about a person (I stay away from jokes about someone’s body usually) but with Cheeto Satan, I’m thinking most things are fair game.
For ease and for the culture, I’m presenting you with this necessary petty manual so we can all get in FUCKTHISDUDE formation:
A Handy Guide to Disrespecting Donald Trump.
Don’t watch his inauguration
There is nothing that Satan’s mentee, Donald Trump, loves more than attention, and ratings. I am a fan of hate-watching things, and tweeting it. But on January 20, I will not be watching no damb inauguration, and I hope you don’t too. For one, it’s full of the entertainment rejects since everyone with sense who was invited said “Nah I’ll be too busy washing my hair at that time.” More importantly, Mein Trumpf needs to know that we are REALLY not here for him. And we need to give him less things to brag about.
I’ve been getting the messages about making sure our TVs are on so rating shares can show most people were watching television but just not his shit show. But I haven’t been able to fact check that so I can’t vouch for it. All I know is *I* will not be watching.
Make fun of his credentials
We gotta constantly remind Donald that he ain’t shit and never will be shit, no matter how much money he got because he didn’t earn any of it. He’s a reality TV star with many failed businesses in his wake. His resume is full of shoddy dealings and he has not one person who isn’t on his payroll or his kin who can speak kindly of him.
Marmalade Mussolini can’t even run his own businesses well, filing bankruptcy 6 times for his ventures. He is so damb raggedy and the ONLY reason he’s ever gotten anywhere is because he was born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. I call him the mascot of white supremacy because ain’t no long con like the idea that white people are superior.
There is no other person who has served the office of POTUS who is this unqualified. He’s the first to have held no other public offices, and the first to be part chip (he gotta be AT LEAST 15% Dorito).
Make fun of his hair
Ain’t no way in hell you should be this rich and walking around with hair that looks like piss-flavored cotton candy. Like when you walk by him, he gives off the aura of porta potty.
Lord knows. Nobody should ever speak directly to him. How do you do business with someone who is wearing a squirrel on his scalp? Why does his hair look like that sponge our mom’s been using for 3 years and it’s now a shadow of its former self but she loves it so much because it scrubs the pots really well? His hair up there looking like Lucy from Charlie Brown dyed her bangs blonde. On a little cartoon girl, it is acceptable. On a troglodyte with the face for radio, it is horrendous.
So this is low hanging roast fruit. Get to it. Come up with the best hair jokes of your life. Make me proud.
Make fun of his color
White, Black, Yellow? Sure. Orange? No. WHY ARE YOU THE COLOR OF A UNHEALTHY SNACKS?!?
Why is your spray tan unable to even so it odds? And why does he always miss the circle around his eyes, so he looks a creamsicle that someone bit so you can see the vanilla on the inside? It’s offensive, how terrible he looks.
The key to these jokes working is to figure out things that are orange-y in color and evil, and use them to create parallels. Sooooo Cheeto Satan. Tangerine Voldemort. Persimmon Hitler. Get creative, and go nuts. Do your best!
Make fun of his baby hands
For someone who is constantly writing checks his mouth can’t cash, Sunkist Stalin can’t even put his hands on folks to back himself up if it came to it.
He was on that tape talmbout how he wanted to grab a woman by her pussy. WITH WHOSE HANDS, DONALD?? Those tiny hands can maybe grab one labia, but not both at the same time. Arms and hands too short to box with God. Hell, they’re too short to palm a volleyball. I guess that God felt like amusing Himself and when He was putting the Nacho Nazi together, He gave him hands that would stay 12 years old as the rest of him grew. Grown AF with pre-teen phalanges.
That asshole can get this work!
Call him everything but his name.
Now comes the REALLY fun part. We’ve started doing this but we need to get really intentional about it. This might be the last time I actually type Donald Trump because henceforth, he must not be given the honor of being called his birth name. We must come together in impertinence and call this dimwit the monikers that really fit him.
I have made note of all the names I’ve heard folks call him across the internet and made us a list to refer back to. I am only taking credit for the first 2. The others? Found and dreamed of by the great minds across Twitter, Facebook and more.
Squirrelwig McRacistPants. Cheeto Satan. Coral Babyhands. Fanta Fascist. Dreamsicle Demon. Orange Menace. El Hombre de Tang. Marmalade Mussolini. Orange Anusmouth. Don the Con. Hair Gropenfuhrer. Sunkist Stalin. Habañero Hitler. Mandarin Orange Mugabe. The Orange Peel. Trumplethinskin. Orange is the new Splat. Tangerine Nutsack. Angry Creamsicle. Human-toupee hybrid. Agent Orange. Fuckface von Clownstick. Cheetolini. The Orange Shitweasel. President Tang. Persimmon Toddler. Kim Jong Orange. Pantone Beelzebub. Hair Gropenfuhrer. Minute Maid Mao. Clueless Orange Julius. Papaya Batista. Sweet Potato Saddam. Doorknob Trundlefuck. Tropicana Mussolini. Mangled Apricot Hellbeast. Twitler. Pumpkin Pinochet. Cheeze Wiz. Lemonhead Elect. Peach Nehi President. Trump Brulée. Short Fingered Vulgarian. Orange Foolius. Pumpkin Spice Satan. Tang Tyrant. Mandarin Manchurian Candidate. Sunburned Stalin. Babyhands McCheetodick. Cheeto-in-Chief. Salmon Voldemort. Candy Corn Kremlin. The Nacho Nazi. Toupée Fiasco. PEEOTUS.
New additions to this list: Dolt45. The Angry Yam. Tangerine Palpatine. Tangerine Turd Tumbler. Orange Kumquat. Yam Vader. Genghis Con. Cantaloupe Caillou. Madking Littlehands. Velveeta Tweeta. Salmon Sadist. Hair Force One. Darth Cheeto. Ginger Genghis. Terra Cotta Turdface. Marmalade VonDouche. Kumquat Despot. Cantaloupe Caligula. Kremlin Gremlin. Lord Commander Marmalade. Papaya Pol Pot. Apricot Idi Amin. Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist Nazi Potus. Shady Marmalade. Cheeto Von Gropenstuff. Burnt Sienna Bumbaclot. Sherbert Pervert. Circus-Peanut-In-Chief. Jackass-o-Lantern. Komrade Kumquat.
And now, for the ultimate form of disrespect to Twitler (and the one that matters the most):
FIGHT and RESIST
We are in uncharted territories right now. He won on a platform of bigotry, he’s supremely unqualified and he is the walking embodiment of the seven deadly sins. He is packing his administration with equally dreadful people who shouldn’t even be door greeters at your local Piggly Wiggly, let alone in high positions of power in government. President Tang is the leader of the Republican Party, which now controls every branch of government. They have all the power they need to wreck everything good about this country. In fact, they’ve already started taking steps to repeal the Affordable Care Act. Basically, they are enemies of progress.
What we need to make sure we’re doing is fighting them every step of the way. That we resist their agenda to “Make America Great Again” which is dog-whistle for “put white power back on the map.” We should not allow the normalization of discrimination that is so overt that you think we’re back in the 1920s. Swastikas have made a comeback, hate crimes have spiked and the racists have been emboldened. The KKK basically took off their hoods and said “come at me, bro.”
The way to show our contempt for Wiggy Trumpzealea is to call him out on his bullshit, hold our elected officials accountable for our needs, and stand up for those who are even more marginalized than we are. It’s not even disrespect as much as it is our duty. We fight. We resist. We make sure the nightmare on Pennsylvania Avenue doesn’t incapacitate us.
What do we do now? We FIGHT like hell. We WRITE our asses off. We make the best ART we can. We PROTECT each other. We LOVE ourselves through it. We STAY STANDING.
And we also make fun of him with reckless abandon. You know his hurt feels will spill over in massive twitter rants and at his pay-to-play press conferences.
Let’s do this!
But first, let me go vomit. Toupee Fiasco is really about to have the nuclear codes.
P.S. In case you are wondering what one of the hex code values of his skin was. You know he got about 46 different shades of orange going.
Have you bought my debut book I’M JUDGING YOU: The Do-Better Manual. Haven’t ordered it yet? Now’s your chance. You’ll love it. Amazon. Barnes & Nobles. iBooks. Audible (I narrated the audiobook myself). Kobo. Books-A-Million.