Way back in 2004, when I was a tenth grader at Frieberg High School in Maine, I wrote an essay (which my teacher submitted to CounterPunch), titled “You can’t mock the president or say balls.”
In that essay, I told how I got in trouble for drawing pictures of President Bush with his severed head on a pole. I said he looked like Alfred E. Newman, and other crazy shit.
I apologized and went on with my life. I worked at a saw mill and later as a night watchman at the paper mill, until I was fired for doodling on boxes. Big fuckin’ deal.
Next, I got a job in town at the hardware store but felt I was overqualified. I was bored to tears. Then the Town hired me onto the Public Works crew, which has been a perfect fit.
I have three kids but the oldest one doesn’t look like me. I suspect my friend Francis Monroe is the father. My wife Yvette says, “Who the fuck cares?”
It’s been an interesting life and more so now that Donald Trump is president and a woman on TV pretended to chop off his fat fuckin’ head. Melanie, who poses naked with her hand on her crotch for money, says the woman is a sicko. And Trump, whose head really is fuckin’ fat, like the fuckin’ moon orbiting the earth, if you ask me, is afraid his demon seed son is going to be damaged for life to see such a thing. You kiddin’ me? Personally, I think the kid’s haircut and Little Lord Fauntleroy outfits will do him more harm. I mean, what other normal kid wouldn’t want to kick the livin’ shit out of him?
Anyway, I mean, what’s the big deal. Art is art, good or bad. Maybe I’d be offended if this woman Kathy Griffin got together with her friends and they pretended to use Trump’s fat severed head as a volleyball. Maybe, but I doubt it. In my opinion, Trump’s fat severed head would make a perfect volleyball, if you’re into that sort of shit.
Or maybe I’d be offended is she had used Trump’s severed and bloody head as a punching bag, and if she hit it really, really hard and the ears flew off with a Pop! Maybe. Like Trump always says when he’s inciting violence or bombing the shit out of some Muslim village, “Who cares?”
And like Yvette always says, “Who cares?” It’s not really his fat fuckin’ head. And this Kathy woman didn’t even get the Orange Dayglow hair right. You wouldn’t even know it was Trump’s fat fuckin’ head unless Fox News told you it was. Maybe you might have thought it was the Man in the Moon?
Anyway, I’m off to have a few beers at Sal’s Bar & Grill with my buddy Francis Monroe and his half-brother Petey. We put a picture I drew of Trump’s fat fuckin’ head on the dart board, which, BTW, has really improved my aim. Darts, like satirical art and beheadings, is all in the wrist.