Trump Charity Funds Spent On His Portrait
Letter from Llanaber
Part of my job as village Foreign Secretary requires me to be ‘on the ball’ when it comes to the gathering, analysis and dissemination of world news, then to publish selected highlights in this, the Llanaber village newsletter. I have taken it upon myself to also act as a ‘censor.’ As such it is vital that I get to the village ticker tape early enough every morning to see the news tapes ahead of the boss of the parish council, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim.
Why? (I hear you ask).
Obviously to destroy any news stories coming through on the ticker tape that may have a negative impact on Mrs. Trim’s behavior.
Note – The ticker tape is the most reliable source of news in the village. Due to the perpetual fog, the TV signal in the village is atrocious. So, it’s unlikely Mrs. T will pick up ‘bad’ stories from the television.
My track record to date in successfully ‘vetting’ the news has been 100%. However, today I failed in my duty. I stayed up too late last night in the hope that the perpetual fog would lift and I could watch a World Cup soccer match broadcast from Russia. No such luck. The picture was so distorted it would have been more entertaining looking out of my window at the fog.
The upshot was that I slept in.
When I arrived at the ticker tape room in the council chambers this morning, Mrs. T was already there. She was holding a length of tape in her hand and grinning at me like Wanka Trump within half a mile of a camera.
With a crazed look in her eye, she barked, “My office. NOW!”
There she showed me the news feed she had found. It read as follows:
“The attorney general of New York State sued the Donald J Trump charitable foundation, President Trump and three of his children on Thursday for violating state charity laws, alleging that the Trumps used charitable assets as “little more than a checkbook for payments to not-for-profits from Mr. Trump” and his companies.”
The article went on to say:
“These include a $100,000 payment to settle legal claims against Mr. Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort, $158,000 to settle legal claims against Trump National Golf Club, and $10,000 to purchase a painting of Mr. Trump displayed at the Trump National Doral.”
My heart sank when I was shown the story. I knew what would happen next.
Mrs. T, ever the one to jump on any Trump bandwagon or nick one of his bright ideas, immediately demanded that a portrait of our esteemed council leader (i.e. Mrs. T) be immediately commissioned.
Also, her private lawyer and village pervert, Solly Weinstein (no relation) should have the legal bill for his defense settled straight away. I have no idea why. When Solly was recently prosecuted for harassing the village maidens into letting him measure their belly buttons he defended himself. I suspect the £100 fee she is demanding for Solly’s fee will pass straight through to Mrs. T herself. (a sort of reverse Trump / Cohen pay off for his ‘little thing’ with Stormy Daniels).
I tried to point out that President Trump’s ruse to use funds people had generously donated to his charity for his own selfish purposes had not worked. The President is being sued for $2.8 million in restitution and penalties. There then followed a long period of sustained crazy laughter from Mrs. T. When she calmed down and changed her pants, she said, “Do you really think that greedy gobshite will ever pay them a cent?”
She had me there.
I naively asked her where the money was going to come from for her portrait. With an evil glint in her eye she said, “Scabby donkeys.”
For those unfamiliar with Llanaber, there is a donkey concession on the beach. For the fee of £2 ‘Dai the Donkey’ will let a punter sit on the back of one of his bandy legged nags for five minutes whilst their loved ones take snap shots through the swirling fog. It’s a thriving business and Dai does okay.
But enough is never enough to these business mogul types. To supplement the fortune he earns from the donkey concession Dai runs a charitable organization called the ‘Broke-Back Donkey Sanctuary.’ To obtain funding for this mythical donkey paradise Dai has a life-sized plaster model of a knackered Mule with a slot in its head for punters to drop coins into. Mug tourists look at the dreadful state of the actual bow-legged beasts he uses for the rides, burst into tears, then shove coins in the plaster con-box like crazy. Dai empties it at the end of each shift then runs straight to the bank laughing.
Mrs. T has set her greedy eye on this fund. As the boss of the parish council she controls who does and who does not get a license to run the donkey concession on the beach. She has poor old Dai over a barrel.
It gets worse. There is only one painter in the village capable of completing a portrait with the final outcome being something that doesn’t resemble swirling fog. That artist is called ‘Screaming’ Brenda Munch, a mad old bat that lives in the church bell tower. She’s half blind and as deaf as a post. However, she is no slouch when it comes to a commission. The arthritic old bag is a very slow painter and charges by the hour. She’ll have cleaned out Dai’s ‘scabby donkey’ fund before the undercoat has dried on the canvas.
I have been given the tasks of a) giving Dai a ‘quiet tap on the shoulder’ about the con-box, and b) giving the good news to ‘Screaming’ Brenda about Mrs. T’s portrait commission. I relish neither of these tasks.
But Mrs. T hadn’t finished with me yet. With an even more evil glint in here eye she showed me the last section of the ticker tape concerning the lawsuit against the Trump family. I reproduce it for you here in full:
“The (Trump) foundation is little more than an empty shell that functions with no oversight from its board of directors. Trump ran the foundation according to whim, rather than law.”
With an insane twisted grin, Mrs. T turned to me and said, “What do you think of the name, ‘The Trim Foundation’?”
Troubled times ahead, I fear.
I left her office and went straight out and bought a new alarm clock.
That’s it for now.
We've uncovered more Letters from Llanaber:
Moves to Censor ‘Trump Wisdom’ Fail in Llanaber
I was up before the cock crow this morning to get to the news ticker tape ahead of the boss of the Llanaber village council, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim. It’s a good job I did. There were lots of small snippets that came through from the US about Trump that would have spelt trouble for the village if my esteemed leader got to see them. She is going through a phase of bandwagon jumping when it comes to the half-baked dottle that spurts from the cheese-ball headed comb-over’s mouth. Below are a few of the craziest (and therefore most dangerous) Trump articles that I managed to censor:
a) Trump commenting on ‘little rocket man’ ('Chinaman' Kim Jong Un) --
“He speaks and his people sit up in attention. I want my people to do the same."
Mr. Trump is known across the globe as a garrulous slow-drawling gobshite. If America suddenly went collectively insane enough to allow Trump to have his way on this, it would spell the end of slouching as we know it. Americans are famous for their slouching. They invented it and it looks cool. If you included mumbling in his troubled sleep, the amber faced anorexia denier Trump never shuts up. Americans would wake up, go through their day, then go to bed sitting up while the boring old nut job (where have I heard that phrase before) slowly burbles on, and on, and on ad infinitum.
That would be horror enough over in America, but what if Mrs. T imposed this as a new ‘modus vivendi’ in the council meetings?
Let me paint the picture.
Mrs. T has an unusual way of talking. She does not converse, as is traditional, to communicate, i.e. I say something then stop while you say something. Instead she talks in ‘proclamations,’ i.e. short staccato outbursts after which she has to take a long, wheezy, deep breath to recover – a bit like verbal projectile vomiting. There could be up to five minutes between each of Mrs. T’s voluminous assertions. Therefore, at council meetings, we would be jerking up and down between slouching and sitting upright. Some of the councilors are getting on a bit. This could knacker their backs.
b) Trump reportedly praised North Korean state-run media and argued it was more favorable in its coverage than Fox News.
I too have noticed how positive the state-run media is towards Chinaman Kim. Could it be that anyone who was ‘less positive’ towards Kim, would find themselves, along with their family and friends, on a fact finding tour of the nearest death camp within seconds of opening their dumb face-cave?
The key words here, Mr. Trump, are ‘state’ and ‘run.’
So why should this article bother me? (I hear you cry).
Mrs. T has always wanted control of the village newsletter. If she thinks a precedent has been set in North Korea, she will make a power grab. Before you know it the newsletter will transmogrify from an informative news document into i) A polemic rant-rag against poor Mrs. Clinton, the old girl that runs the card shop, ii) a butt-licker eulogizing the achievements (Ha-ha!) of Mrs. Trim herself as our magnificent council leader and iii) an advert for Mrs. T’s sweet shop, with a price list on the back.
c) Trump’s claim that his fine, upright, overly height-endowed ex-FBI boss, James Comey, committed ‘criminal acts.’
From what I could glean form the ticker tape, Mr. Trump is yelling in everyone’s ear that the ex-top-cop should be ‘banged up in chokey’ for deliberately doing his job.
Why is this bad news for Llanaber? (I hear you ask).
All I’ll say is that if Trump gets his way over there then I fear for the future of our village top-cop Robert ‘Robbie the Bobbie’ Muller. Robbie has not yet published his report into the allegations of voting ‘irregularities’ that may have occurred during the 2016 election for Council leader. It’s common knowledge throughout the village that the election was nobbled by ‘the beast from the east’ Putin Lotzadosh. Bribes were offered (free goes on the penny falls slot machines in Putin’s arcade on the seafront). Bribes were accepted. But to date there is insufficient concrete and irrefutable evidence to prove that electoral fiddling took place.
Mrs. T is desperate to suppress Robbie’s report and has tried everything within her powers to prevent its publication. This even includes sending Robbie the Bobbie and his entire extended family on a fact finding tour of bars and restaurants in the Florida Keys to ‘study the effects of fast food and alcohol poisoning on sunbathers.’
Despite the fact that Robbie actually accepted this blatant bung, I still believe him to be an honest and upright law enforcer. Robbie speaks truth to power. The poor man’s as dumb as a brick (where have I heard that phrase before?) He’s so dumb he can’t foresee the consequences when he opens his big stupid mouth. Therefore, I’m absolutely convinced he will publish his report in its entirety, warts and all, showing neither fear nor favor. This I expect he will do on his return sometime next year* from his fully expensed junket in Florida. (*or the year after, depending on how much Mrs. T can plunder from the village hospital’s budget).
Despite my best efforts I was not able to stop one article from the ticker tape US news feed reaching Mrs. T. This one referred to Donald Trump unilaterally imposing a 25% tariff on selected goods imported from China. Both feet leapt straight onto the bandwagon, and I’ve been given strict instructions from Mrs. T to immediately impose a 1,000% tariff on all imported greetings cards bought in for resale in Llanaber. The average greetings card price has rocketed in the village as is now beyond the means of all but the deep pocketed American tourists (they are big spenders – their economy is booming). This is another blow aimed at poor old Mrs. Clinton who owns the card shop in the village and stood against her for council leader in 2016. As I’ve said in the past, Mrs. has a long memory and bears grudges.
That’s it for now.
Maxim’s ‘Male Hotties’ List - Llanaber’s Top 5 Suggestions
As a balanced, fair-minded liberal white male in my sixties I was delighted when I read Maxim’s annual Hot 100 list to see that President Donald Trump’s gastric banded ‘lingerie model potential’ wife, Melanie, and his thin grinning daughter, Wanka, have made the cut.
As a life-long campaigner against bigoted misogyny it’s good to know that, in these unsettling ever changing times, the leftie, pinko, live-on-your-knees, commie bed-wetters have at last won the day.
It’s official! Women can now be classified as both ‘hotties’ and ‘Braniacs.’
Progress at last.
I take my hat off to you, Maxim, for producing this bastion of modern thinking, although I must say I was surprised to see Prince Harry’s new Misses, Angela Merkel, had made the grade. She’s on the tubby side and looks a bit like a bloke. Then, I suppose it can’t be easy to be the boss of Germany and a British royal at the same time. Too many free dinners, I suppose. She’s bound to pile on the weight.
In these ground-breaking times in which we live, there have been many tireless warriors in the crusade to gain parity for women in society. In the vanguard of these great men is of course the champion for the de-objectification of women, Harvey Weinstein. His tireless efforts to bludgeon Joe Public into seeing the half-clad, young, slender, beautiful women with their breasts half out their frocks that he parades in front of cameras as more than just sexual objects is legendary.
That said, the forceps-birth-faced ex-Movie mogul’s effort to categorize the females he comes across (no pun intended) into two distinct camps, those worth ravaging and the rest (allegedly), was a complete disaster.
He failed to acknowledge that females can sometimes be clever. I’m of course referring here to the ‘once-you’ve-made-me-rich-and-famous-I’ll-rat-you-out-to-the-cops’ ladies. I think they refer to themselves as the ‘Me Too’ victims for short.
Women? Clever? (I hear you ask).
Yes, it’s not claptrap, it is possible, and, believe it or not, quite common. Also, it occurs at the highest levels in society. This can be evidenced by anyone taking the trouble to look at what happened in the US election of 2016. One of the candidates was, in fact, a female. Further, she could have won the damned thing had the opposing candidate not had the sense to accept the kind offer of help from… let’s just say a ‘well-wisher.’
Yes, dear reader, women can be not only hot but brainy. Further, whilst being both eye-candy and smart they are also capable of popping out the occasional sprog. There’s little doubt about it, women have a lot to offer modern society.
But there is still much work to do before women are fully considered as equals to men.
So, it is right and proper in this forward thinking society of ours that women start to reciprocate in the objectification stakes. To this end I look forward to Maxim publishing their list of the top 100 male ‘Red Hot Braniacs.’
Let me give Maxim a head start. Here’s my pick in descending order:
At no. 5: Rudy Giuliani
Alright his brain is going a little soft these days, but he’s still a magnificent example of the male physique after it has consumed far too many free meals at the taxpayer’s expense. And those glasses are cool. Also, he wasn’t bad as the consigliore in the Godfather, despite not getting nominated for an Oscar. Come on girls, give him another sideways glance!
At no. 4: Harvey Weinstein
The shy and self-deprecating ‘Queen-maker’ is nothing if not ‘red hot.’ Imagine seeing that man-beast completely naked (except for the ankle bracelet). Imagine that human tallow-barrel belly-flopping on top of you when he’s off his medication and having one of his ‘hot flushes’ eh girls? Plus, every ‘podge-pummeling’ these days comes with the offer of a bit part in his upcoming rom-com romp, ‘Me Too!
Need I say more!
At no. 3: Jared Kushner
He is a ‘must-have’ for women that like the weedy reptilian look in a man. I know he’s someone most women would rather mother (or should that be smother?), but he has to be a veritable love machine in the sack. After all, you never see his thin, pasty-faced wife without a satisfied grin on her face. Also, I think he has big hands. That’s important to some women.
At no. 2: Vladimir Putin
Yes, the ‘bear with no hair’ himself. If you can overcome the homo-erotic images of him half naked and wrestling bears, he comes across as quite a masculine man. How would you like to be ‘annexed’ by him, eh ladies? How do you fancy one of his surface-to surface-missiles heading towards your strategic regions? Sure, you might struggle with snogging those wafer thin lips, but wouldn’t you just die for having the ‘Baldy Bolshevik’ smearing his unidentified substances on your front door, know what I mean girls?
At no. 1: Donald Trump
Need I say more, the ultimate alpha-male! What a magnificent example of the perfect physique for a fat bloke. Even his eyelids boast several layers of podge. For all those female ‘feeders’ out there he’s a ‘must have.’ You only have to look at the quality of the totty he surrounds himself with to see that the man is beyond question a human fanny magnet. If you think he’s a hunk fully clothed standing at the lectern telling everyone how smart he is, then just imagine him stripped naked, lying on his stomach, his head tilted coquettishly towards the camera above and to his right.
Can you imagine that, ladies?
That ‘all-over’ tan, even in the folds of his man boobs. That blonde hair, luscious and long, cascading loosely and seductively from the sides of his head as he pouts at the lens. That bald patch glistening in the warm pink / blue glow from the sunbed lamps as he beckons you towards him with his stubby little index finger.
And girls, don’t let’s forget, beneath that disheveled comb-over lurks the biggest mega-brain in the whole goddam world.
What a body!
What a brain!
… And all in one person – the complete package. Mr. Sexy-Brainiac, dished up on a sunbed platter just for you!
Alas, dear ladies, it could never be. This is all just fantasy.
All these men are spoken for** and are in long term relationships, happily married, some with families. All are men of complete and utter probity and would not conscience a dalliance outside the bounds of wedlock. Mr. Trump has even spoken at length on the subject, both publicly and privately to his lawyer while handing over a bag containing $130,000 in grubby used notes (allegedly).
So, my advice to you, ladies, is to admire these magnificent creatures from afar. Certainly never get within groping distance of Pervy Weinstein- unless you fancy a bit part in his upcoming rom-com romp, ‘Me Too!’
** I’m not sure about Putin. I understand he’s divorced but with all the topless man-grappling he does, he strikes me as a man with a leaning towards the ‘DUP’ sexual preference.
N.B. Mrs. Trim must never find out about the Maxim’s list. She’s still spitting blood about not being nominated for the Nobel Peace prize (yet). Not making the Maxim’s top 100 might tip her over the edge.
That’s all for now.