Babyfingers now mixing an intoxicated butchery of grammar, syntax and vocabulary with what is supposed to be sober news. “I am declaring a national emergency. Those are two very big words.” No, they really aren’t. I mean, in letter count they get you nice points in Scrabble...
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Fuckopotamus now doing that thing he does when he has only newly heard of a concept minutes before being tasked with speaking about it. “TELEHEALTH! A fairly new thing...” The guy is an Irish setter of duncehood. Points to his own stupidity.
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“No resource will be spared. Nothing whatsoever.” says local man who deployed no resources.
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“The FDA approved a new test. We did this within hours of receiving the application.” Fun-fact: the World Health Organization offered us testing kits months ago. Dipshit McGee turned them down because he is a paralyzingly ignorant fuckopotamus.
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Trump now giving a shoutout to Google thought it is not clear exactly for what. According to reports, Jared was fishing for coronavirus info online, so maybe that’s it. The Google School of Epidemiology.
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Trump wraps up and hands the mic to a woman whose name I didn’t catch. She opens by delivering a profound lie so vast in its falseness, it’s breathtaking. Claims it was Trump who identified testing capabilities were inadequate and demanded an overhaul. I detest these asshats.
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Speaker now - utterly inscrutably - invoking throwbacks to the response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic - a crisis precipitated by Ronald Reagan’s homophobia and willful disregard for human life. This is like crediting Christopher Columbus for bringing smallpox awareness to Hispaniola
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And now we have Dr. Fauci at the mic. Fauci is a national treasure. A fighter for public health for 50 years. An unflinching truth-teller amongst a cesspool of shitbags and they’re shitbaggery. The next president should give him the Medal of Freedom.
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Fauci keeps it brief and then Trump kicks it to someone from... Walmart. No, I’m serious. Injects an infomercial into the briefing so Walmart Dude can plug the allegedly pending enterprise of Walmart drive-thru testing. Jesus H. Christmas. Disease care is now a retail item.
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Up comes a dude from Walgreens and another from Target. This has basically turned into the NASCARization of crisis management. Every sponsor gets a decal on the hood.
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Next up Quest Diagnostics and Signify Healthcare. It is entirely possible Trump is going to wrap this up by announcing Kyle Busch will be driving the #18 car in the Coronavirus 500 at Talladega.
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Trump picks up the mic, and announces the suspension of student loan........... interest. Gee, that’s... nothing. Trump also waxes all dreamy about issuing orders to buy a lot of oil because it is cheap now. This insipid turd is knowledge-reductive. He makes listeners dumber.
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Mike Pence now up. He is so obsequious, so servile, so fawning in his asinine sycophancy that it defies the boundaries of human speech to capture in words. He would live among the passing stool in Trump’s colon if only that were somehow possible.
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Given the choice to walk free among man or live out his days as a polyp upon the presidential colon - thought of little, benign in impact, a mere spectator to the elimination of bodily waste - Pence would absolutely sign up. He’d be first in line, camp out and get the wristband.
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“Our most effective weapon is to limit the damage.” says a man labored in diction, subdued and sedated in affect, as he reads words he doesn’t understand about a crisis he has unequivocally made worse.
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Trump is riffing in his inimitable way: Dizzying the listener with a vomit of circular nothingness punctuated with bold-sounding hyperbole about vague nothingness. He is a blustering emperor with no clothes delivering a Garment District keynote.
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I cannot even transcribe, paraphrase or excerpt what he is saying. I deduce more of the underlying meaning while watching Sabado Gigante on Univision despite speaking no Spanish. These are words. They are not language or meaning.
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“We will be very, very successful” says President Popinjay - as if there is such a thing as being “very, very successful” in a crisis where the best case is merely that no one dies (and that outcome has already passed).
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Asked if he takes responsibility for the debacle of our unpreparedness for testing, Trump responds - and I quote: “No, I don’t take responsibility at all.” That, friends, is the singular synopsis of this very man’s soul. There is no failure so directly his that he will own it.
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Trump now taking questions. Having endured the concussive effects of the first portion, I am going to leave this here. This is the Cats movie of press conferences. A garish spectacle vaguely resembling a watchable production but absent coherent plot or staging.
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We are unpresidented. This man is a quivering simpleton pantomiming as a field general while the troops know to hide his holster and ignore his orders. In this confederacy, he is the lead dunce. Lord, help us all. //
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