
When I saw the video of Trump strolling on the White House roof, I had a vision of the buffoon teetering off the edge and suffering a great fall. I imagine his evangelical supporters gathering around the orange carcass and praying that his rotund corpse would defy gravity and ascend to heaven.
Alas there are no fairy tale endings in real life, and the decrepit idiot will survive falls, diseases and STD’s and not die before his term is over.
Trump is not the first president to take a trip to the White House roof. Jimmy Carter took visitors to the roof to stargaze. Willie Nelson confessed in his autobiography that he smoked weed with Carter on the roof of the White House.
When Trump sauntered on the roof, the attention seeking moron answered questions from reporters assembled below. When Carter trekked on the roof, the only onlookers were Secret Service agents.
Carter wrote a poem about one such experience, in which he observed geese flying through the dimming sky over Washington. It begins:
I recall one winter night,
going to the White House roof
to study the Orion nebulae,
but we could barely see the stars,
their images so paled by city lights.
Can you imagine Trump writing a poem about his experience:
I remember a more beautiful day that anyone has ever seen,
going to the White House roof,
surveying my kingdom,
and looking down at the blouse of a reporter with the biggest boobs in the world.





