(Inspired by Laura Ward's Anthology of Put Downs in Acid Wit)
Trump has all of the characteristics of a dog, except loyalty, an
awareness of smell, and a willingness to accept house training.
He has not a single redeeming defect except mortality and maybe blindness.
A dedicated Trump supporter is a hyena in a suit and tie with a flag in
his lapel. Believe me.
Trump GOPers are always ready to lend a helping hand to those above them.
His Attorney General looks like a little man with the face of a harassed
rat about to have a trap sprung on him.
Trump is a great bowl full of vinegar without the salad, or anything
refreshing.
Trump is filthy in word, filthy in thought — furious raging and obscene, so
much so that even the "and's" and "the's" in his statement are lies.
Trump is not crazy, he's lazy. The Nazis around him do all the heavy
lifting.
Trump is noisy, ostentatious, and shallow — what more can the Alt-GOP want?
His problem is he goes on so long, he fails to know how to get off either
Twitter or President Putin's bandwagon.
His work is both good and original, but the good is not original and the
original is not good. Who said crime doesn't pay?
Trump proves that Darwin was wrong at least in his particular case.
The gentleman's smile is like satin lining in a coffin. It looks good
even though it tends to smell with time.
It has been the political career of this man to begin with hypocrisy,
preceded with arrogance, and finishing with contempt blended with corruption.
Trump doesn't just dye his hair and face, he's just prematurely orange.
You really have to know him to dislike him, if you have the time to waste
and don't mind fleas.
Trump is the only man low enough to walk under a bed without hitting his
head on reality.
His lips are weapons of mass destruction for his friends if not for his
enemies.
He succeeds in pressing the largest amount of words into the smallest
amount of thought.
Trump crossed the floor twice at the European summit meeting leaving a
trail of slime in each direction for others to diplomatically disinfect behind
him.
When they call the roll at the Trump cabinet they don't know whether to
answer present or not guilty.
De Vos, Trump's MisEducation Secretary, is so ignorant she thinks Cheerios
are donut seeds or miniature replicas of her IQ scores.
He told us he was going to take crime off the streets, but he didn't tell
us he was planning to move it into the White House.
Trump stands out like a rotten mackerel in moonlight in that he shines out
and the stench is the best way to find him.
Trump is like an over-ripe banana, yellow on the outside and squishy in
the middle.
Trump is the only instance of a rat swimming toward a sinking ship, while
shouting to his enemies they're going down.
To see Trump trying to speak eloquently is like seeing a chimp handling a
Fabergi egg, a sure disaster in the making every time.
Trump's speech is rather like the wings of an ostrich, allowing him to run
on but never threaten to soar.
He sounds off like one who has befouled his underclothes and prevents
those around him to keep from openly noticing.
He always gives me the impression that he is vertically challenged in
spite of his height.
Trump is like a gallstone we just can't manage to pass — maybe surgery
could help.
His conscience is an easy glove; it goes on and off without the slightest
effort or concealment.
Trump say he's thinking of changing his mind. Let's hope the next one
works better than the first, if it exists at all.
Trump has a lot of flexibility; he comes by it naturally. His father was a
snake as the record shows, just like his grandfather.
Trumps' first six months in office can best be described as a breakdown in
slow motion without a tow truck.
Which should we despise most: the feathers on his head or the feathers
inside his head — both make us want to sneeze.
Trump's Attorney General Sessions reminds us of a taxicab with both doors
open and no one really at the wheel.
When it came time for Spicy, Trump's Press Secretary, to answer for
Trump's non-performance his mouth suddenly filled with wet toilet paper.
The problem with Trump is that he is so subliterate that he doesn't know
what that means.
Trump is the only person I can imagine walking down a lover's lane holding
his own hand. I even suspect perhaps he'll end up dying in his own arms?
Trump confused grandios with blandiose in seeking to highlight his
achievements.
It's like having a talking parrot who learned to use Twitter and just
can't get over touting his over-achievement.
Seagulls we're told live on garbage and squawk a lot. They have that in
common with Trump and his flock of scavengers.
Trump is something like an albino rat with bushy eyebrows and a swagger
with a 30% approval rating that he confuses with a majority.
You can lead an ass to the White House, but you can't make him think? But
that's no reason to give up trying for impeachment.
We are constantly told that Trump will take time to discover himself.
After all he's a rhinestone in the rough until the political grindstone
finishes him off.
Trump's teleprompter stole the show for audience interest, by by proving`
that he could at least read the bullet points others prepared for him.
Trump was generous with his milk-of-human-kindness promises to the poor — too
bad they hadn't been refrigerated instead of left out to curdle in the sun.
At least give the Pope an "A"for his effort to win beatification by
silencing Trump for a moment to qualify as his miracle.
There is much less in him than meets the eye if you wait long enough it is
bound to come out at one end or the other.
Trump was annoyed to be given short shrift, when he spoke. He should have
been given ten years to life.
Trump's speeches run the whole gamut from A to B. That was the only safe
course to avoid him losing his way.
Trump is like an untethered Macy parade balloon, only in motion because of
the leaking hole at one or both of its ends.
The lady told Trump she wouldn't mind at all if he smoked, but she would
rather that he lit up and burned, proclaiming she wasn't a terrorist, but a
patriot.
Trump was not so much dressed up as upholstered when he muscled his way in
front of the President of Montenegro for a photo op.
At first I thought Trump was wearing his hair as food for the horses, then
we discovered it was to hide his blush whenever he lied.
We all watched Trump skating on ice at the summit holding our breath for
the ice break under the weight of our prayers.
Anyone who reported Trump had blown his brains out would only have been a
liar or at least a purveyor of patently impossible fake news.
This Cabinet is a stampede of lips searching for access to the crease
inside his pants as demonstrated at their joint press conferences.
Trump crosses himself before every speech to avoid the risk of lightning
for his lying in case God happens to be listening.
Trump is the only politician able to swim in shark infested waters
counting on the immunity of professional courtesy or their known aversion to
poison.
Trump is the only person I know who a mind reader would be obliged to give
half price for services, since it would take so little effort.
Trump is the only person who combs with an egg beater and then has the
nerve to stand beside a well-groomed wife temporarily borrowed from a magazine
ad.
Trump attested to his open mind by the draft coming through it — strong
enough to blow out the candles of his Chinese visitor's nice chocolate cake.
The only reason Trump keeps changing wives is that he can't marry himself,
even in the State of Utah.
Trump not only kept his figure all these years but he's added a great deal
to it in gluttony, not to mention scandalous amounts of excess baggage.
He's so fat that when he wears yellow, school children keep trying to
climb on board whenever he bends over.
His hair drapes over his forehead like an anesthetized broom, longing for
a much needed "pick me up" after a long day.
Trump has proven so vile he could make a starving goat back away from an
oat bin. Just witness his difficulty recruiting appointees.
His eyebrows are reminiscent of bleached wriggling caterpillars
looking for something more substantial to spin a cocoon on.
Word has it that Trump flosses his teeth with barbed wire before tweeting
in the morning to assure it's real and raw like his bloody fans like it.
Stiff, unbending and impenetrable and that's just his imagination, the
reality of his behavior is like the inside of Alcatraz.
He is a male chauvinistic boor, or is it a boar — hair, tusks, and all,
waiting to be served up on a platter called an indictment.
It is said Trump rose from disgrace without leaving a trace of his former
self until somebody found his tax filings.
He gave his public what it wanted even though they were too dumb to ask,
for reasons of modesty or delusion.
His Cabinet is like the back of a porcupine, one prick next to another as
far as the eye can see or dare to touch.
Some say he won't go anywhere without his bible. That is because it has so
many references to hell as a place with which he is so comfortably familiar.
A college student asked his plastic surgeon to make him like Trump. The
Doctor obligingly gave him a lobotomy.
Trump is so crooked that if he swallowed a nail he would pass it out as a
corkscrew.
When somebody suggested Trump should take a wife, he characteristically
asked whose?
Trump has an American face, but hides a Russian heart caked in Rubels.
Trump won the election but Hillary won the count. Now we're all losers.
It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a
detailed briefing paper into Trump's head.
It is as though Trump thought science might be contagious, so he
inoculated himself with a daily diet of Fox misinformation before bed.
He calls chalk what others call cheese and dismisses the difference as
fake news.
Trump disputes the descent of man from apes because he would prefer it the
other way around.
His scientific preference is for a bloated head with little in it
rather than a normal head full of wonder and knowledge like the guy who
preceded him.
It is inappropriate to laugh at a funeral until it is the right one.
Trump's hell was not a vision of other people but feedback of his own
mirror.
Trump thinks that to be 100% American you must be 99% idiot.
Trump's only exalted a sentiments are those that can be bought based on a
price tag on them beforehand.
The safest way to sit through a Trump speech is to keep a sick bag at your
right hand as on a bumpy airplane ride.
Trump doesn't believe what you don't know can hurt you, but what you don't
know won't hurt him!
Trump's melting pot leaves those at the bottom to burn, while the scum
floats to the top to better skim off the cream.
Trump is so highly religious he always crosses himself, for a little
extra protection, just before he double-crosses you.
Trump treats incompetence as mere sincerity and sincerity as mere
incompetence, the way he selected his loyal cabinet members.
I might not attend his funeral, but would send a letter of endorsement for
those paying the tab for the celebration.
You take the lies out of him and he shrinks to a peanut; you remove the
malice and he disappears.
Trump's VP Pence is as comfortable and charming as a dead mouse in a loaf
of bread and Trump's best insurance policy against the threat of impeachment.
Trump has so many Russian bankers with hooks in his nose that he's
beginning to look like a piece of bait smeared in Rubels.
He has so many Russian secrets in his closet they look like garment bags
with padlocks that give off noxious odors.
He doesn't know the meaning of the word fear because he doesn't know the
meaning of that many words.
Pence is Trump's designated gerbil set on a treadmill pretending
innocence.
Trump only opens his mouth to change feet, except when one has to
contradict the other at the same time.
Trump only agrees to play golf if someone else chases down his errant
strokes and carries his clubs.
Trump's notion of exercise is eating breakfast in bed and having to chew
his own food.
If you substituted gunpowder for Trump's brains it wouldn't be enough to
blow his hat off assuming you could ever get it to light under water.
Trump thinks the reference to "tactics" refers to his mints, not the
requirements of forethought before acting.
Trump likes golf because it is more expensive than marbles and his
numerous trophies show he can do something of no benefit to the earth or
humanity better than others.
Probably the only way Trump can learn to hold his tongue is for him to
stumble and fall over it, putting himself into a coma. We might all wish, but
the Secret Service won't allow us to say it.
