The Truth is Flexible

     (By Cyril Blubberpuss, Conservative-American)

     "The truth is flexible," as my brother Cecil used to say while ogling male Olympic gymnasts, "as flexible as those studs, yeah," he'd breathe, face inches from the screen before bemoaning the fact the male gymnasts were never as young as the females.
     Truer words were never spoken, I say, and as the very avatar of alternative facts and flexible truths, I give you my old friend Donald John Trump, President of the United States! Take his latest fundraising speech in Missouri, in which he related this fascinating tale of the malleability of so-called facts.

“Trudeau came to see me. He’s a good guy, Justin. He said, ‘No, no, we have no trade deficit with you, we have none. Donald, please,’ Nice guy, good-looking guy, comes in — ‘Donald, we have no trade deficit.’ He’s very proud because everybody else, you know, we’re getting killed.

“... So, he’s proud. I said, ‘Wrong, Justin, you do.’ I didn’t even know. ... I had no idea. I just said, ‘You’re wrong.’ You know why? Because we’re so stupid. … And I thought they were smart. I said, ‘You’re wrong, Justin.’ He said, ‘Nope, we have no trade deficit.’ I said, ‘Well, in that case, I feel differently,’ I said, ‘but I don’t believe it.’ I sent one of our guys out, his guy, my guy, they went out, I said, ‘Check, because I can’t believe it.’

‘Well, sir, you’re actually right. We have no deficit, but that doesn’t include energy and timber. … And when you do, we lose $17 billion a year.’ It’s incredible.”

     Now that, my friends, is some magnificent improvisation designed to look as if Trump is fully prepared with facts and figures that he doesn't ever, in fact, have. In other words, as the 70's expression goes, "If you haven't got your shit together, dazzle them with bullshit," or words to that effect. It works for the best poker players in the world, so why not the President of the United States? Of course, with Trump's propensity for making shit up as he goes along, that anecdote could also be a load of horse shit but who cares? Certainly not me or his other voters!
     Flexible truth, or what Crack Whore Barbie, as I affectionately call Kellyanne Conway when I visit Trump at the White House, refers to as "alternative facts" is absolutely necessary in our nation and the world because those of us who know the real facts are the only ones who can handle the truth. Why, just the other day at that same White House, Trump was trying to impress me with how much classified knowledge he had.
     "Cyril," he said pointing to his double-woven head as we sat in the Oval Office, "you wouldn't believe the classified shit people tell me. It's great, just great! You wanna know something about Area 51? OK, here ya go-
     "There are no UFO's there. They built that big ass base there during this project they called Skunk Works just to mislead the American public. The buildings are empty! There ain't nothin' goin' on at Area 51! At least, that's what the Joints Chiefs tell me every time I bring it up. 'Nothing to see there, Mr. President', they always say while lookin' at each other. Then I wink at these guys with scrambled eggs on their hats, these admirals and generals and I say, 'Right. Keep up the good work, men' and I give 'em a thumbs up."
     You see, the truth is completely unpalatable to those of us not in the know, such as the fact that Donald Trump, after 14 months on the job, is really no more knowledgeable and probably less intelligent than the guy at the end of every bar constantly reliving and bragging about his one good year in high school. That's something that's been ably kept by the actual sane and pragmatic men and women with whom Trump has to surround himself.
     Because we can't let it get out to North Korea that Trump's softer than a Hefty bag full of baby shit and even crazier than Kim Jong Un. It'd be like when Kennedy met Khrushchev for the first time and that liberal asshole walked out with the Russian Premiere's footprints all over his aching back.
     I remember sitting in on what was supposed to be a classified meeting between Trump and the skeleton crew of the State Department. I was sitting on the couch eating some Chicken McNuggets that Trump always has in a candy dish at the table. Tillerson didn't want me there and Trump just kept telling him, "Shut the fuck up, Rex, and read the report to me."
     Tillerson glared at me while arching those weird Thomas Edison-like eyebrows while I stuffed my face. Then he tried to tell Donnie that getting into a nuclear war with North Korea would be a bad idea because #1, we have 32,000 troops along the border and, #2, it would inevitably draw in North Korea's only ally, China.
     "Yeah, but what's that gotta do with cost of tea in China?" Trump brilliantly retorted while Tillerson looked at him for a full 30 seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose.
     A week later, Tillerson was gone. Because he couldn't handle the truth that our President is a raving fucking lunatic who gives the middle finger to the portrait of every Democrat in the White House.

     Sometimes he'd have Kennedy's portrait shipped to Mar-a-Lago or where ever he's playing golf that weekend just he can wave his genitals at it ("See how Kennedy's looking down?" he once told me with a wide, lopsided grin, "It looks like he's admiring my junk, huh?").
     Bet you wish you didn't know that, huh?