Trump Wusses Out in Mexico and You Have No God

Let us say, and why not, that you are what we might consider an average Trump voter. You leapt onto the Trump train because of his stances on Muslims coming into the United States and his promise to deport all the undocumented people living here, especially those filthy Mexicans and other south-of-the-border types who make you uncomfortable when you go to the Home Depot on Saturday mornings to buy shit for a backyard project you'll never finish. Also, you like Trump because fuck that Hillary Clinton bitch.

Now let us say, and, indeed, why not, assuming you're not Ann Coulter (and, if you are, let me take a moment to ask: "How are you still alive? Virgin boy blood?"), that you've been watching Trump the last week or so, as he has teetered right on the line of a complete reversal on one of the very foundations of his presidential ambitions. But you've stuck by him. You know that when he's elected, he's gonna stick it to some spics and nothing could make you happier since they are taking your jobs. Well, not your job, technically, but surely someone's. And then you hear Trump is going to Mexico to meet with the president of the country, Enrique Pena Nieto.

Okay, okay, you think. This is awesome. Your hero, the shiny orange knight, is gonna stick it to that Mexican motherfucker and tell him what's what and what's gonna be and, yeah, fuck yeah, you're gonna build that fuckin' wall and you're gonna thank us when you do it or we're gonna take an economic shit all over your stinking country. You ignore the fact that Pena Nieto is pretty much despised by his own citizens, who think he's a corrupt dickhead. You ignore the fact that Pena Nieto's accused of giving financial favors to friends, pretty much the same thing that Trump is accusing Clinton of doing, except way more blatant.

And then you take a break at your job to watch the press conference after Pena Nieto and Trump have met. You think, Goddamn, this is gonna be good. Except...well, shit. They sound like a couple of regular goddamned politicians. They talk like nothing bad happened. They say they have much in common. Trump talks endlessly about how much he just fuckin' loves Mexicans, how "tremendous" they are, how hard-working. You feel a little dizzy. What they fuck have you believed all these months? Who the fuck is this guy?

Even worse, when Trump is asked if he brought up the border wall, he says, "We didn’t discuss who will pay for the wall." You feel a little sick to your stomach and you get a cramping and an urgency in your bowels. Trump called the Mexican president his "friend." Oh, sweet Jesus, what is going on?

You rush to the bathroom and you just start shitting in great waves of burning, watery shit. Because now you know. You've been played. You're the sucker. It'd be like dying and waking up in Muslim Hell. Everything you've believed, everything you've argued for, it's all just a big fuckin' lie. Tough guy Donald Trump walked right up to the president of the country that sends us rapists and drug dealers and planted his tawny lips on the guy's ass. What a fucking wuss.

This is what an existential crisis is like, dear Trump supporters. Wallow in it, fuckers.

But I'm probably giving you far more credit than you deserve. More likely, you're already justifying this and making it fit the Jenga game of bullshit you've constructed.