Donald Trump Is The Blackest Blackety Black Who Ever Blacked A Black
If there's one thing everyone knows, it's that black people love them some Donald J. Trump, the very same president whose press secretary can't definitively state hasn't been caught on tape calling us racial epithets. We apparently love not wisely but too well.
Soul Brother No. 1 spoke today at the Young Black Leadership Summit, a conference for young, black conservatives between the ages of 15 and 35. This shameful spectacle if the participants had any shame was the work of Turning Point USA's Charlie Kirk and Candace Owens, one of whom is technically black and neither of whom are welcome at the cookout. The event was held at the White House because Trump's presidential contract does not allow any personal travel just to meet black people.
This collective of the confused greeted Trump with a red MAGA hat salute. After calling for "U.N.I.T.Y.," Trump moved on to attacking Democrats who "do nothing for you." He expressed gratitude for pet MAGAT Kanye West, whom he called a "little different" but a "smart" guy. I wonder if he'd be able to successfully pick him out of this crowd.
He claimed his polls numbers spiked after West endorsed him. I guess all he needs is "that Black Panther guy" and he'll have Obama-level support. Did he plan to actually address issues affecting black Americans or even the people at the Young Black Leadership Summit?
OK, so he wants to make cat-calling great again. That's ... unsettling, but maybe every man will get his own souvenir Trump-brand martini glass for doing their best Sinatra impressions to women trying to mind their own business in public: "Hey, baby, you're beautiful, a ringa ding ding." I fully believe "black is beautiful" but I think this is a (terrifying) non-sequitur.
Trump told the young black conservatives that a lot of people were "jealous" of them. "That's a word we have to understand," he said, "because it's used against us very much. The word jealous. Jealousy." What is this, the Vocabulary Bowl? How old did he think these young, black and clueless "leaders" were?
The black conservatives were congratulated for having Trump rescue them from the squalor of their black lives. It was the usual vicious, racist lies: Yeah, I know, our neighborhoods are filled with crime and empty 40s. We have no fathers, just fried chicken restaurants. We're trapped in "failing communities." And it's all the fault of Democrats. He then led the crowd in a chant of "What have you got to lose?" and I must say that is the saddest "bobo, butt-kissing, bonzo" shit you can imagine. But, hey, the black community should appreciate that Trump has turned around the economy so incredibly, even those of us who are ex-cons (which is all of us probably) can now find jobs! Sure, some of those ex-cons aren't the best employees, but that's life. "Even in this room, we probably have a couple of bad ones," he actually said with his actual mouth. "Are there any bad ones? Huh? No bad ones?"
Surprisingly, this wasn't the low point. They had to actually listen to Trump's eldest son Donald Jr. on Thursday night. I'm pretty certain Trump Jr. has no black friends because he has no actual friends. Anyway, it's hard to get worse than Trump Jr. claiming black conservatives had the "most guts of anyone in America" because they support a racist, but Trump wasn't about to let his worst-born upstage him. He must've tripped over his youngest son's history book and somehow learned what the Great Emancipator's political party was.
Wow! Lincoln was a Republican! Why does no one talk about this? (Actually, conservatives won't stop talking about it.) I've wasted my life voting for Democrats who support civil rights and MLK holidays (looking at you, ghost of John McCain) when I could belong to the same political party as Jeff Sessions and Steve King. What a big tent -- sort of like a giant white hood!
You know what'll also blow Trump's mind? The Dodgers were once a Brooklyn-based sports team. Yet whenever I try to catch a game of whatever it is they play at Ebbets Field in Flatbush, I can't get a single peanut or Cracker Jack -- only apartment buildings. Strange, it's like things change. Not that Trump ever will.
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Stephen Robinson is a writer and social kibbitzer based in Portland, Oregon. He recently fled Seattle, where he did theatre work for Book-It Rep and Cafe Nordo.