The Baby Jesus is Outraged!

(By Cyril Blubberpuss, Conservative-American.)

That's what I yelled as I waddled away after I rifled the collection box at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Broadway because the child-diddling Catholic Church are famously corrupt and, well, I didn't want those well-meaning donations to fall into corrupt hands. Who cares if not a single penny of if came from my wallet?

     And, really, that's what my friend the president is being impeached for! He simply refused to turn over $391,000,000 to the Ukrainians that didn't come from his bank account. Yes, he handed over military aid to them in 2017 and 2018 when they plainly had a corrupt government but by this year, when a TV comedian came to power on an anti-corruption platform, he'd had enough. After all, who can take seriously a guy who was laughed at on a TV show before improbably getting elected president?

     And now his staunchest base outside Wall Street, the snake-handling evangelicals, are tip-toeing out one by one! Does not the Bible or that evangelical rag that called for Trump's expulsion teach the value of blind faith in contravention of confusing facts? What would the baby Jesus say, someone who surely understood what it felt like to be abandoned after turning bread to fish and other cute magic tricks that he did on that rock? And as we're nearing the day of his birth, at that!

     Do not mistake this impeachment sham for an actual exercise of justice. There is no justice! My close friend Donald was given just one chance and one chance only to make his case before the Democrat Party-controlled House. They wanted him to turn over incriminating evidence of bribery and corruption. Thank God Putin ordered him not to and to be enough of a friend to let him know that the Ukrainians, not the secret agents from the Russian intelligence service who were indicted by that liberal Robert Mueller, hacked our 2016 election that still saw my friend emerge victorious. And just as Mary conned everyone into thinking the kid in her gut was the result of an Immaculate Conception, my friend Donald Trump only wants an Immaculate Election even if it was going on four years ago.

     That's why he wanted to make sure the Ukrainians fiddle-fucked with the 2020 election so they could get it right this time! Oh, that Joe Biden is a wily one, shoehorning his son Hunter on the board of a gas company then demand the Prosecutor General call for corruption investigations into gas companies! Nice try, Comrade Biden, but you didn't fool the president or his children who are handsomely raking in beaucoup bucks off their father's good name.

     And for those who are getting a bit long in the tooth, this is the third impeachment to which we've been subjected to in our lifetimes, only one of which was worth a damn (At least Clinton got a good blow job out of the deal).

     I remember when I was still in Wharton Business College during Nixon's own attempted impeachment that he cleverly thwarted when he scuttled off on Marine One and gave the Democrat Party two middle fingers before the liberal Democrats could get their grubby paws on him. My father Ambrose in his one half term as a Republican congressman out of Manhattan sat on the House Judiciary Committee during his single but glorious year of political power.

     He was the one who coined the term, "Don't confuse me with the facts! My mind is closed!" that was then co-opted by that Earl Landgrebe idiot from Indiana. He would have joined old Earl as the only other Republican to vote against articles of impeachment if it wasn't for the Democrat hatchet job done on him by several of his business associates who were arrested smuggling money out of JFK that was taped to their bodies and stuffed in their suits on a one way flight to New Delhi with written instructions written by my father as to where to launder it.

     Dear father Ambrose worked directly in consultation with the late and future Senator Fred Thompson, one of the greatest thespians of our generation, and both men insisted the president turn over the Watergate tapes that turned out to be the president's downfall just because he wanted to do a little opposition research on the Democrats just like Trump tried to do with Biden. Only, the current POTUS was wily and decided to make Ukraine do it for him to atone for meddling in the 2016 election.

     Well, it wasn't exactly father Ambrose's finest moment in his short but illustrious political career, which obviously didn't have a deleterious effect on Mr. Thompson's own political future as he was elected to fill Al Gore's seat and surely would've become president if he could've only stayed awake during his own presidential campaign.

     And then there was Clinton's impeachment, into which, like father like son, my baby brother Cecil tried to inject himself without success.  By the time Slick Willie was impeached for putting his little slick willie where it didn't belong, it was 1999 and my kid brother had just gotten out of Rikers Island for that little misunderstanding with www.cecilsprays.com. He'd made an abortive effort to set up yet another sex chat room under a different domain name, www.theeaglespews.com.

     However, since Cecil was a trailblazer in the early 90's in the very act of setting up the first sex chat room in the history of the internet, by the time he finally got out of prison he found literally thousands of other such sites ripping off his brilliant concept in his one successful foray into ecommerce! You couldn't ride a sex swing without hitting at least a dozen of those ripoff sites!

     However, in the two months that www.theeaglespews.com was up and running, Cecil saw someone that looked as if it could've been President Clinton pleasuring himself in a private session with one of the Eastern European Adonises that he'd managed to, er, reacquire from eight years before with the help of our old Russian contacts. The man wore a mask but the telltale mole described by Miss Lewinsky was plainly visible. Unfortunately, Cecil wasn't thinking too clearly in his mania to bag Clinton by sending the screengrab to members of Congress because next thing we knew, his SoHo loft was getting raided yet again by federal agents who arrested him for, once again, tax evasion. Luckily, that led to an even shorter sentence at Rikers, which, despite the stories of prison shower rape, Cecil happily went back to. What a brave lad.

     Bottom line, the masked man in the throes of self love wasn't President Clinton at all but a certain Republican congressman, which should've surprised no one considering the cleverness of the domain name appealing to the conservative patriots in our great nation.

     The point I'm trying to make is that we shouldn't recklessly jump on the impeachment bandwagon like it's a fucking Halloween hayride during Christmas. My baby brother and sainted father learned their lessons when they lunged after the impeachment hobby horse and racked themselves in the balls for their well-meaning efforts. Now, in order to enforce the stonewalling and support that the president needs in the Senate, he's putting himself in harm's way and had been reduced to the same bribery that got him impeached in the first place. The poor man's already had to make a significant outlay of cash from his own campaign war chest to vulnerable Republicans up for reelection next year and offering golf outings to Camp David in the dead of winter.

     I don't know why he doesn't offer these golf outings in Mar-a-Lago since it's warmer there and charging them even cut rates would still put some much-needed cash in his pocket but what do I know?