Now, the good news: After the events of this week, you can summon anyone you like to protect him from the evil witches of America, including the mighty Neo-Nazi "death to all Jews" Super-Mega Confederate Prayer Warrior Squad, and you still cannot protect Trump from his worst enemy. You can label all of his enemies Antifa (as Super Enlightenment Solar Magician did last month), and it will not do a bit of good. You can line up all the Trump supporters in the country, give them Super Solar Eclipse Enlightenment powers, and Trump's worst enemy will still be doing damage to your fearless leader.
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| When you are a witch, they just let you do it. [The President Show--Steve Bannon, Donald Trump, and Mike Pence as the real witches of 'Merica!] |
More good news: Trump's worst enemy keeps doing damage to President Donald Trump and his administration--and not just when the moon is in final crescent.
But before we talk about Trump's worst enemy, it is time for a "Is Morgan an evil violent Antifa?" update.
As many of my regular readers know, as well as a whole bunch of fans of Super Enlightenment Solar Magician (who I once called "racist"), last month someone decided to reveal a shocking secret: That I was secretly an Antifa.
It was such a deep dark secret that I had to Google what the f*** an Antifa was.
So as far as I can tell, the basic motivation behind the Antifa is to punch Nazis in the face. I could be wrong about that--some have told me that they are the worst threat to humanity since reptiles flying UFOs invaded Earth (Super Evil Reptilian Extraterrestrial Enslaver Mythos Magicians)--others believe that they are evil sock puppets of the lovechild of Obama and Clinton. But whatever and whoever they are, they seem to really like punching Nazis in the face.
Based on that (the Nazi punching, that is), I can safely say that I am not an Anitfa.
I just simply don't have the ambition to physically punch a Nazi. It seems like a lot of work and horrific traveling to accomplish this goal. And I hate traveling. Like I really, really hate traveling. (Moving vehicles setting off one's migraines has that effect on your eagerness to travel.)
Now, if they delivered Nazis to one's front door, then I would consider punching them. But even then, I would probably just call the cops. Then blog about the strange day I was having.
Quite simply, I am more of a comedian and blogger than a Nazi puncher. And searching my blog, my past newsletter columns, and my social media posts, I can't find a single instance of me saying, "Damn, I want to punch some Nazis."
I will admit that there is one person (only one person) that I have wanted to punch in the face, and according to my math--he is 93.3% likely to be a Neo-Nazi; but that because the man irks me, not because he is a Nazi--he could be a Democrat, and I would still want to punch him in the face. It is not just his politics that make me want to punch him; it is his whole personality--I suspect that he might be a Vogon in disguise. But I have gone out of my way to avoid encountering him, so I don't think that should be held against me.
So what am I really? I am guessing that I am a Liberal, and not a very good one at that. I am basing this on how I binged on cookies all week. Read some news--eat a cookie. Read some more news--eat another cookie. Watch President Trump's worst enemy in action--finish off the package.
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| I am totally in tune with the Sheet Caking Grassroots Movement. |
Now, what do I fantasy about? How do I dream of punishing those who I disagree with?
Boston Creme Pie...to the face! And YouTube the event!
Seriously, I would like to slam a Boston Creme Pie into the face of a Nazi. And Trump, of course. And some Democrats, and a few Republicans, and there are some occult leaders, and that nasty book critic, and...well, let's just say I have a list.
Some have accused me of plotting assassinations...but it actually is all about the humiliation of a creme pie to the face. You just can't get the proper level of humiliation, if your target dies during the pie-ing (because half the fun is watching them lose their mind over the video).
And now to answer the question: Who is President Donald J. Trump's worst enemy?
Drum-roll please...
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| What is the German for "There are some fine people who are Neo-Nazis; and I fear that if I badmouth them, I might not get re-elected"? |
...is...
...quite simply...
...the Crazy God Emperor...
Donald J. Trump, himself.
And there is nothing that you can do to protect Trump from himself.
Nada. Zilch. Absence of possibility.
This week, there was one correct answer. Only one correct answer.
"Nazis are bad. It was wrong to run over a counter-protester. Or anyone else for that matter. Especially if you are a Nazi."
That is all he needed to say within the first round of the news cycle.
Not only did he not say it quickly enough, he didn't say it even when he did speak up days later. Then he got upset because people were asking "WTF?!?" Finally, one of his advisors forced him on stage to say that Nazis, Neo-Nazis, and the Alt-Right might be bad. Then he got more upset because people noticed that he wasn't doing it willingly. And then he rebelled and said that some Neo-Nazis are fine people.
At which point, I had to eat a whole bag of medicated cookies.
Nothing that us evil witches are doing with our monthly spell is as bad as what he is doing to himself.
And there is nothing that you can do to protect him from himself.
On his way out of the White House, Steve Bannon said, "His natural tendency--and I think you saw it this week on Charlottesville--his default position is the position of his base, the position that got him elected."
For those who have slept though basic logic, Steve Bannon believes that Trump is a Neo-Nazi...and I am also starting to believe it.
I am also starting to wonder what else Trump could do to hurt himself--but I won't have to wait too long to find out. Because he has the self-control of a third grader high on meth. Hell, he might decide to slam a creme pie into his own face while on national TV. And there is absolutely nothing you can do to prevent him from slamming a Boston Creme Pie into his own face, if he decides to.
Nada. Zilch. Absence of possibility.
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