Trump Campaign Song: “Shall I Sue?”

DONALD TRUMP THREATENS TO SUE WOMEN
ACCUSING HIM OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

************

(Sing along.)

************

Shall I sue, shall I seek for dough?
Shall I bay in pursuit?
Shall I strive to a heav’nly glow,
With an earthly suit?

Shall I think all mine pussies grabb’d
Or mine pinchéd tits
Or sore ass can ascend the courts,
Where high justice sits?

Silly wretch, forsake these dreams
Of a vain desire,
O bethink what legal costs
All your suits require.

Yet when that fortune bring to me
Triumph in the polls
At dawning of my pres’dency
Liars’ heads will roll.

Nasty Women! I will show
Measure of my rage
You will curse the day you dared
Rattle Donald’s cage!

Whorehouse Condemns Whorehouse.

The NCAA doesn’t like what the U of Smell has been up to. It’s one thing to run a morally prostituted organization, and a whole other thing to run an actual house of prostitution.

As long as President-for-Life Rick Pitino‘s University of Louisville maintained whore-parity with the NCAA by way of greed, cheating, and hypocrisy, things were copacetic; but Louisville went too far when the university extended the logic of sports recruitment to the establishment of a dorm-centered sex biz dedicated to the pleasuring of seventeen year old prospects and their fathers.

Pitino’s wittle interim campus mouthpiece has denounced the monstrous NCAA charges against The Dear Leader and pledges the full resources of the university in defense of their sovereign.

Hilaire Belloc’s “Lines to a Don” meant something entirely different…

… but parts of the poem contain a curiously contemporary resonance.

***********

… Don poor at Bed and worse at Table,
Don pinched, Don starved, Don miserable;
Don stuttering, Don with roving eyes,
Don nervous, Don of crudities;
Don clerical, Don ordinary,
Don self-absorbed and solitary;
Don here-and-there, Don epileptic;
Don puffed and empty, Don dyspeptic;
Don middle-class, Don sycophantic,
Don dull, Don brutish, Don pedantic;
Don hypocritical, Don bad,
Don furtive, Don three-quarters mad;
Don (since a man must make an end),
Don that shall never be my friend.

… Don dreadful, rasping Don and wearing,
Repulsive Don—Don past all bearing.
Don of the cold and doubtful breath,
Don despicable, Don of death;
Don nasty, skimpy, silent, level;
Don evil; Don that serves the devil.
Don ugly — that makes fifty lines…

***************************

Guess that’s what they mean by immortal verse.

The “contest the restraining order” play at the University of Minnesota.

The University of Minnesota sports program has, over the last few years, polished its institutional sheen every bit as much as sports has shined up Penn State’s. Whether it’s a bankrupting, half-empty new stadium, coaches who I’d have called totally nuts before the Donald Trump campaign, or simply players who can’t play until that pesky court order modification comes through, UM has demonstrated precisely the sort of pre-NFL ethos we all like to see in a university. KEEP ‘EM ON THE FIELD AND YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU. Amen.

*******
UD thanks dmf.

UD’s Pretty Confident that Washington State University’s Mike Leach will be getting an emergency…

… raise of $20,000 — half of it to cover the $10,000 fine he just got for telling everyone that an upcoming football game he might lose is rigged, and another $10,000 to make up for the pain and humiliation he might have suffered because of having been fined.

Don’t leave, Mike! We love you! How much more money do you want? You are our golden boy and shed nothing but light and love upon our fine institution!

**************

And yes – to answer your question – he’s a Trump man.

Halloween, George Washington University English Department

trickor-treat

Thursday, October 27
from 3-5.

Come say hello to UD
and enjoy the scones with
orange icing or whatever
that she will be giving out.

UD thanks a reader for telling her about…

Trump Book Report.

Jude is SO SAD. So obscure. Loser.

The Wretched of the Earth. You’re telling me. Disgusting.

Tragedy, ‘thesda-style.

You can’t say people in UD‘s world don’t suffer.

“Such a nasty woman.”

She stands alone waiting for suggestions
He’s so nervous, avoiding all the questions
His lips are dry, her heart is gently pounding
Don’t you just know exactly what they’re thinking

If you want my country and you think I’m nasty
Come on, sugar, steal the show
Show you can debate me, show that you can bait me
Come on, honey, tell me so

He’s acting mad, looking for an answer
Come on honey, pull your thoughts together
Talk about how girls are pigs
Talk about how it’s all rigged

He catches a cab to his high rise apartment
At last he can tell her exactly what his heart meant
Nasty woman nasty woman
Won’t let me be president
Nasty woman nasty woman
Won’t let me be president

“There is no telling what an increasingly desperate Trump, a reality TV showman whose entire campaign has been an unmitigated flouting of conventional political, cultural and behavioral norms, will do in his final 90 minutes on the debate stage to try and affect a race that appears to be over or, perhaps more pragmatically, to attempt to save face by blaming his dim electoral prospects on an allegedly biased media and the unsubstantiated claims of a rigged election.”

Think Chris Burden.

Sourpusses.

The girls can’t help it.

If your university’s name is “Liberty,” but the school is in fact tightly controlled by a tinpot dictator who has…

… most recently censored – nay, suppressed – an article in the student newspaper critical of Donald Trump, I’m afraid you deserve all of the ridicule you’re going to get.

Gonzalez…

…won’t play ball.

Thanks, Mr Trump!

Employees at two plants operated by distiller Jim Beam have gone on strike, saying they are overworked amid a nationwide revival of interest in Kentucky bourbon.

Sure, it’s more than a little too-too.

But Chris Kluwe explaining to Donald Trump what gets said in actual locker rooms is pretty funny.

I was in an NFL locker room for eight years, the very definition of the macho, alpha male environment you’re so feebly trying to evoke to protect yourself, and not once did anyone approach your breathtaking depths of arrogant imbecility. Oh, sure, we had some dumb guys, and some guys I wouldn’t want to hang out with on any sort of regular basis, but we never had anyone say anything as foul and demeaning as you did on that tape, and, hell, I played a couple years with a guy who later turned out to be a serial rapist. Even he never talked like that.

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