No, We are Not Going to Descend to the Level of Fart Jokes Here

Oh, who am I kidding? There can be no more perfect summation of the life, history, and character of the 45th president of the United States than the news that, even on the eve of his conviction as a serial criminal, he’s still stinking up the joint.

You thought toilet paper on the shoe was the lowest we’d get? Oh, you don’t know the guy who wrote The Art of He Who Dealt It.

What, I’m not showing respect for the dignity of the office, the greatest perk of which to its most recent occupant was a car with a crapper? I should pretend I’m not talking about the King of Shithole Countries his own self?

In case you wonder to what this diary refers, this is why #TrumpFart will be trending tomorrow.

And, to show that I’m not completely without compassion, I offer, much too late, this small bit of advice to the former dude:

The difference between a real star and an overinflated gasbag is a just a bit of gravity.

Thanks, you’ve been great. I’ll be here all week. Don’t try the veal, it returns.