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Typhoon Trump
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Considering the severity of the cascade of disasters descending upon us lately, we should thank our lucky stars we’re able to talk about them. Earthquakes, heat-waves, flash-floods, non-flash-floods, wildfires raging across the West, multiple Category 5 hurricanes strafing the Caribbean and Donald Trump addressing the General Assembly of the United Nations. The only way things could get worse is if Mitch McConnell embarked on a singing career.
These are not what you call happy times for the Western Hemisphere. Not only does the planet seem especially angry at us, but also newly adept at organizing its individual weapons into a coordinated assault. Mother Nature has gone Rambo. An actual Sharknado cannot be entirely ruled out of the question.
In the most awkward and preventable of the recent litany of bad, the Tweeter of the Free World took his carnival barker act to the UN, regurgitating his “America First” campaign for all to hear. At the UN. That’d be similar to waving skewers of pork kabobs at a PETA convention wearing an ermine coat with pockets full of cottage cheese. I’m surprised peace-keeping troops weren’t called in to quell this uprising of Trump’s id.
Reading off a teleprompter in his patented indoor voice, the former real estate developer announced to the world that if Rocket Man, his pet name for Kim Jong Un, doesn’t get his act together, North Korea will be totally destroyed. Ostensibly by B- B- B- B- Benny & the Jets.
As previously demonstrated, our neophyte Commander-in-Chief is not big on the “spoonful of sugar” style of negotiations. More a “wave a sledgehammer to push in a thumb tack” kind of a guy. Imbued with all the diplomatic skills of a rhinoceros suffering from Athlete’s Horn. Crazy, or crazy like a fox, the adjective remains constant.
Despite receiving death stares that would cauterize a satellite, the orange canopy finished by putting the rest of the world on notice, including Iran, Cuba, Venezuela, Nambia, Chad, Jeremy, Vincent, The Republic of Tiny Dancer and any other entity that might consider crossing him whose name wasn’t then and isn’t now Russia.
Russia being his lifelong irrevocable BFF who as far as he’s concerned can do anything and everything their little heart desires. Including supporting North Korea’s weapons program as long as they keep it on the down low. And refuse to release certain videotapes. No matter how much the New York Times offers. Because that’s not what a BFF would do. Is it Vlad?
Apparently when the professors at Trump University teach the phrase “bully pulpit” the major emphasis is on the first two syllables. But this time, the president’s slander was matched in intensity by the North Korean leader who responded by calling him a “dotard.”
This archaic insult sent reporters to their Webster’s to discover the definition... “suffering from senile decay.” And when the world’s most notorious psychopath starts calling you names, that’s not good. Of course, Ted Cruz and Hillary Clinton could have told us that.
The more we experience Typhoon Donald’s foreign policy the more it becomes apparent that when future generations discuss our current beloved leader they will most likely develop a custom where they spit on the ground after saying his name. That is, if there are future generations.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin.