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Trump Will Have a Full Blown Mental Breakdown When He Sees the Lincoln Project’s Newest Video

They really hit the gas with this one.

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There’s no way you haven’t already heard about Donald Trump farting in his sleep during his current criminal trial. If you haven’t, don’t worry, that link a sentence ago will open in a new window, so you can look at that and this.

As you might expect, the group of Never-Trump Republicans known as the Lincoln Project saw it and RAN with it like ninjas. And like those silent but deadly warriors, they cut right to the cheese of the matter.

Entitled “Donald, Is That You?,” the video shifts between a montage of images depicting things you can smell just by looking at them and some funny commentary. The images range from Trumpsters Dumpsters™ to landfills to Trump Tower, which you know smells like backdoor deals and a lot of hot air.

When Trump passes, he’ll surely still be dropping spirit bombs. And that’s why LP felt the urge to gaslight him.

And he’s so overweight that he has to watch the weight of his farts, too. Anything more than zero is trouble.

Unfortunately for his lawyers, they’ve had a close-up and personal encounter with Trump’s flatulence. As we all know, farts are like children: We don’t mind our own, but we can’t stand anyone else’s.

I heard that Trump fired the guy he used to employ to distribute his leaflets on flatulence awareness, through no fault of his own. He just happened to let one rip.

And from what I understand, the odor Trump emits is so bad, it would make a flight attendant open the window. Melania better never tell Trump she wants to heat things up in bed, or she’s getting Dutch-ovened.

In fact, Trump is such a clown that it makes me wonder… Do his farts smell funny? And he’s such a dinosaur, when he passes gas, it’s a blast from the past.

Okay, enough with the puns.

Obviously, we all pass gas. But by all accounts, this is frequent and rancid coming from him. And while I fart just like everyone else, I do it maybe just often enough to turn the cash in my wallet into gas money.

Watch the video:

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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