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It Turns Out That Mar-a-Lago Is in Disgusting Shape, With Filthy, Clogged Vents and People Are Grossed Out

I mean, if the home is worth as much as you say, maybe push a broom now and then.

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“A gold-plated dump” is what one social media user called it. If anyone said that about my home, I’d be mortified.

But maybe Trump doesn’t see Mar-a-Lago that way. Maybe he just sees it as an asset, and he doesn’t really consider anywhere his actual home.

Either way, a recent picture of the air ducts at the Florida estate has people reeling.

Now, if you’re wondering why we’re covering the air ducts at Mar-a-Lago, I’ll be honest — so am I. The fact is, however, that it’s indicative of something much larger.

In reality, a man who can afford someplace like this can afford the upkeep. That’s just a fact. And the fact that he doesn’t keep up with the upkeep, so to speak, speaks volumes about his priorities.

Is he too “cheap” to maintain his own property? Is that how he’ll run the country if he’s elected again? Will he do as little as possible to simply get by?

One Twitter user said it pretty succinctly:

Many social media users mentioned Legionnaire’s Disease, while others simply talked about the fact that Trump doesn’t seem to care for any of his properties. Imagine a golf course where no one bothered to replace the divots — or even water the grass.

But that’s Trump’s life in a nutshell. He truly only cares about superficial appearances. And while that’s sad, it’s also more than a little bit frightening. If this is how he runs his luxury resort HOME, imagine what it must look like in the kitchen. Imagine the ketchup stains on the walls.

In the end, it doesn’t actually matter how much KFC grease is clogging up the airways at Mar-a-Lago. Visitors there soon choke on the stench of their own self-worth anyway.

People were disgusted:

Andrew Simpson
meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.

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