FYI
Donald Trump has never had to agonize over whether to pay the electric bill or buy groceries for his kids.
Donald Trump has never walked up to a locked door that mentioning his daddy’s name hasn’t been able to unlock.
Donald Trump has never had to work. He has also never appreciated the joy that work can bring to a person, because it’s never been something he has had to do.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what love or loyalty mean, because he has always viewed such things as contractual.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what it feels like to break in a pair of steel toed work boots. He’s not familiar with the experience of sliding a pair of new work boots on in the face of a ten to twelve hour work shift of non stop walking and lifting, in spite of calluses and open wounds on your feet.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what it’s like to skip breakfast because there is only enough food in the house for the kids, even though he’s off to do hard labor in the aforementioned work boots for 12 hours, and there is no time for a lunch break.
If Donald Trump has ever been in a fist fight, it was with another inheritance baby, with the full knowledge that some kind of administrator would stop the thing before dental bills needed to be considered. He has never fought a real person, the kind of person who knows how to fight, because they know what struggle and survival means.
I don’t know where he gets the idea that he deserves the streetwise cowboy persona he attempts to inhabit, because he has never faced any of the dilemmas such a persona is bound to encounter.
This is not a tough, wise, smart, or compassionate man. This is a sad and stunted man who needs only one thing, and it’s the only thing his money could never buy him: the love and acceptance of his (dead) father, and any semblance of inner peace. What a sad and grotesque character.
His hands are small, but I also bet they are soft as fuck.
Donald Trump has never had to agonize over whether to pay the electric bill or buy groceries for his kids.
Donald Trump has never walked up to a locked door that mentioning his daddy’s name hasn’t been able to unlock.
Donald Trump has never had to work. He has also never appreciated the joy that work can bring to a person, because it’s never been something he has had to do.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what love or loyalty mean, because he has always viewed such things as contractual.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what it feels like to break in a pair of steel toed work boots. He’s not familiar with the experience of sliding a pair of new work boots on in the face of a ten to twelve hour work shift of non stop walking and lifting, in spite of calluses and open wounds on your feet.
Donald Trump doesn’t know what it’s like to skip breakfast because there is only enough food in the house for the kids, even though he’s off to do hard labor in the aforementioned work boots for 12 hours, and there is no time for a lunch break.
If Donald Trump has ever been in a fist fight, it was with another inheritance baby, with the full knowledge that some kind of administrator would stop the thing before dental bills needed to be considered. He has never fought a real person, the kind of person who knows how to fight, because they know what struggle and survival means.
I don’t know where he gets the idea that he deserves the streetwise cowboy persona he attempts to inhabit, because he has never faced any of the dilemmas such a persona is bound to encounter.
This is not a tough, wise, smart, or compassionate man. This is a sad and stunted man who needs only one thing, and it’s the only thing his money could never buy him: the love and acceptance of his (dead) father, and any semblance of inner peace. What a sad and grotesque character.
His hands are small, but I also bet they are soft as fuck.
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