The Roast of Donald Trump
(⚠️ You asked for Savage. Don't blame us.)
Good evening, Chippewa Falls. Look, I know you’ve got better things to do—like fixing a tractor that’s actually, you know, clean air compliant—but we had to bring out the main act. Please welcome the man who once pardoned a guy for fixing his tractor... and somehow turned seven months of emissions fraud into seven years of heroic farm martyrdom. Donald Trump.
e.g. "always late" · "thinks they're the boss"
You know, Don, when you told that story, you had the farmers cheering like you’d just liberated a combine from a Communist boot. But here’s the thing: you took a Wyoming diesel mechanic who ripped pollution controls off 344 trucks to save money, and you turned him into a folk hero for getting caught with his hand in the catalytic converter. It’s like you heard "Clean Air Act," thought "I hate clean air," and just... winged it. The guy wasn’t fixing his tractor—he was literally destroying the ozone layer for profit. And you made him a martyr. That’s not a pardon—that’s a permission slip to be a monster.
By the way, you multiplied his sentence by twelve. Seven years, you said. Seven years from seven months. That’s not a math error, that’s a creative writing exercise. You said “seven years” with the confidence of a man who truly believes five is also a food group. If you’re that bad at multiplying, maybe don’t handle the nuclear codes. Or the tariff spreadsheet. Or the Big Mac order.
And the hashtag? #TRUMPISNOTWELL. Six hundred thousand views in twenty-two hours. That’s more people watching you malfunction than watched your last State of the Union. But here’s the real tragedy: you didn’t realize you were wrong. You had the farmers applauding, and you walked away thinking, "I nailed it." That’s not incompetence—that’s your superpower. You can be wrong about literally everything and still believe you’re a visionary. You’re not a president; you’re a clip art version of one, and the printer ran out of ink on the face.
Go ahead, tell us another story. Maybe about how you pardoned a mailman for stealing stamps and called him a "postal patriot." We’ll wait. But for the love of God, this time, double-check the arrest record. We know you can’t read a legal document, but maybe ask someone who’s not named "Donald" and also not in your ego. Cheers to the most confidently wrong man in American history. You fixed a narrative. Shame it wasn’t yours.
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