In the immortal words of Violet Crawley, “What is a weekend?”. With Old Harold’s retirement,…
Hey all, it’s your old pal Donnie the Drunkard. I am typing this post from a secure location (I am hiding in the men’s room at Bob’s Beer and Billiards). The reason for my precaution is I want to make sure no one is spying on me. It smells so bad in here, that no spy would dare hide here for any length of time. The last time my uncle Toby was in here, he passed out from the fumes and we had to drag him out to the parking lot and wave pieces of cardboard in front of his face until he came around. Ever since that he goes out back to relieve himself.
Ok, to get back to the topic of security. I hear there is a position available in the Trump administration for a new National Security Adviser. Right up front, I want to tell you that I don’t talk to Russians, hell, I don’t even speak russian and my english is so bad, no one can understand me anyway.
I would be the perfect choice, because I know nothing and I have absolutely no experience. I hear those are highly valued skills in the Trump administration. I am prepared to declare that I am a total nincompoop (or something like that). I will bring my total lack of experience to bear on the critical issues of security (whatever the hell they are). I am prepared to show the world I know nothing and therefore I can’t give away any secrets. See I told you, I am the perfect choice.
So Mr. Trump give me a call … I am in stall #3, but I don’t know if I can be here much longer since it has not be cleaned in about six years. Call real soon! Please!