Trump and Putin: the Dream Ticket

A little borrowed levity from Michael Lerner, written by another Rabbi with a good sense of humor and outrage. Enjoy:

[A bit of humor in light of the latest revelations about a presidential candidate whose disgusting attitude toward women is no laughing matter! This is a selection from a fuller piece written by my Jewish Renewal rabbinic colleague Elliot Ginsburg who teaches Jewish Studies at the U. of Michigan, Ann Arbor-- Warm regards to all. Rabbi Michael Lerner rabbilerner.tikkun@gmail.com]  Trump Exes Pence and taps Putin as new Veepster (unedited transcript) Breaking News:  And here to deliver the news is our undercover reporter, known gnomically as Trump L’ie. (Or do you say, Trump L’Oy?)...His voice has been digitally altered lest he be publicly fingered and outed…and force-fed with well-meaning gluten. Thanks Pritchard. I’m here streaming undercover at the Tsibl Tower, deep in the heart of Gruzya and have we got a hot scoop for you.  [Full voice, stentorian]: As we all know, pressure has been mounting over the past 36 hours for Donald J. Trump to withdraw from the Presidential race in the wake of the Excess Hollywood tape scandal. We have it on reliable source that Trump is planning his counter-offensive, preemptively removing Mike Pence from the ticket for his “half-baked, on-the-fence support” and “his longish fingers which make me look bad.” And here’s the gobsmacker: The Donald’s allegedly replacing “Weak-Mike Pence” with “a strong leader” with downright stubby digits, Vladimir Putin—who would simultaneously retain his position as pre-eminent Russian leader. This unprecedented decision came about in a hush-hush confab in the Alaska compound of travel-show host Sarah “Litwack” Palin (or do you say, Poiln?). Palin has been serving as Trump’s unofficial advisor on World Affairs and Birth Control. (In that order. First the Affairs and then the Birth Control.) Campaign Insiders Newt Gingrinch and Chris Crispie (code-name Creme)—Trump’s Weight-Watcher sponsors—were also in tow. Looking through Sarah’s famous window, Trump reportedly grew agitated before growing glassy eyed and waxing prophetic: “I see London, I see France, I see no future under Pence….In fact, I see the future and it is Rootin’ Tootin’ Vladimir Fuckin-Putin rearing his head (and heading u-know-who’s pantsuited rear) as my Veep. If Crooked Hillary launches a Putin Riot, we boink the protesters, and make America really great again. Vladimir Putin, initials Vee-Pee, will be my sidekick and hobnobber, my bouncer- in-chief. We give half-baked Pence the heave-ho, the hobnailed boot, and bring on Putin-Boots. Or as I call him, Vlad the Impaler. Did you see the size of that man’s hands? Smaller than mine. Newt interrupts (gassy): Er, one problem, Donald. He’s not exactly American or even Murican. That’s against the Second Amendment—even if Scalia were still alive and kicking—as I’ve noted in my learned books. Trump: No problem. We give Putin special status as native-born, like the rigged system did for John McCain who was born in Panama, or that Mexican, Mitt Romney. Where was the damn wall when we fuckin’ needed it? Crispie: No Donald. You can’t make Putin American until after you assume rule and expand the Second Amendment by executive fiat. Trump: Unless. Unless...I've been pullin' your legs, guys. Damn it, Sarah, you tell ‘em: Sarah: You betcha. And aren’t we all looking swell in our sensiband expando-slacks?! So, I got this doohickey from Breitbart this morning…. Trump (interrupting). Wrong. It was technically last night, Alaska time, in the wee hours my time, while I was tooting up a storm or maybe tweeting. It’s Vladimir Fuckingovich Putin’s secret goddam birth-certificate. The long-form. Says right here, he’s really from... get this, that swing state, Florida. Crispie: no shit Gingrinch: you sure it’s real… Trump: it’s a real hack...really real. Could have been the Russians, or maybe Jina or maybe it’s from my 400 pound twin brother sitting on a bed somewhere. But it’s real...I can smell, and taste, and rub its yuge reality. See, born in Florida. St. Petersberg, to be exact. Gingrich: shit... Trump: Yup, da man’s from St. Petersburg. Right here, in black and white. Fucking St Pete. I love Florida. I own half of Florida. I have many buildings there. We could make Del-a-Mar the new White House! Build a dacha for Putin behind. So, in with Putin, out with Fencey-Pence. We got this baby in the Gucci bag. A round of Trump Steaks for the house! (Pauses to spray hair) Liar liar yo’ Pence be fired! Sarah (martial in tone): Newt and Chris, you take care of Reince and Ryan. I’ll neutralize Pence with some fractured syntax. We’ll all need new hats: Maybe “Make America-n-Russia great again.” Something with faux fur ear-flaps. And maybe some sexy caribou antlers for huntin’ season. Gingrinch: Yeah, but what’s in it for Putin? Trump: He keeps his Russian post. And we give him an American beach-head: West Palm Beach, Miami Beach and Boynton Beach. And a sexy byatch, the one from Days of our Lives. Did you see her legs? And maybe if he pushes back real hard, Brighton Beach. Crispie: And remember, I have a bridge I could sell him real cheap. He’s got the dough. As they say, Crimea pays. Trump: Fellows, fellows...leave it to the Donald to close the deal. I tell you. Vlad’s got the hots for me. Believe me. No one has greater hots for me than him. I’m one star he can’t resist. For starters, we can go horseback riding. He without his shirt and me without my Pence. I’ll dismount. I’ll remount. We’ll rub noses. I’ll suck his toots, get him all hot and buttered, and, the piece de no-resistance, grab him by his Putin. Trump for the Win! Chris and Newt: Yessss! Score one for the Donald. Trump: Sarah, pack my extra-long tie and my rack of tic-tacs... [ Now, he has something to say in tonight's debate!]