Fuck me backwards, what a title. How am I even supposed to fit that into a tweet when I later desperately try to get people to read this stuff? Bad marketing strategies, Lux. Baaaad ones.
Okay, whatever. Without further ado, I’m gonna jump right into our second Sad Literature Sunday, where I dedicate one or two precious hours of my life to present you the literary abysses of online publishing. In case you missed it, you can find the first issue right here and catch up on all the fun you missed so far (bring booze, seriously).
Today’s pick is “Slammed In The Butt By Domald Tromp’s Attempt To Avoid Accusations Of Plagiarism By Removing All Facts Or Concrete Plans From His Republican National Convention Speech” by the same guy who brought you “Pounded By The Pound: Turned Gay By The Socioeconomic Implications Of Britain Leaving The European Union”, namely Chuck Tingle. I still want to believe so hard I’m about to dive into a nuanced critique of US politics, but my fire of hope is slowly dying.
Come, children, come, suffer with me.
When I tell my friends this, they say that I’m putting too much pressure on myself, that it really doesn’t matter because Domald Tromp could say anything and the conservative would still be swooning over him in droves.
Well, that critique might not be especially nuanced, but it is a critique, so…
I’m going to be honest; if I could write for one of the other candidates, I would. Unfortunately, this is the job I have (…).
You and me both, you and me both, sweetheart.
It’s the end of the first night and we are anxiously awaiting the on stage arrival of Domald’s First Lady, Morlinda Tromp.
You know, if you say this sentence out loud with a straight face it will sound like you are trying to speak with an oven potato shoved in your mouth. I highly encourage you to try it.
Morlinda is screaming now, her eyes wild with patriotic enthusiasm. “The Democrats have spent so much time trying to figure out if they could, they never stopped to think about if they should! Thank you!”
What an oddly sexual description of a potential First Lady giving a speech (she insisted to write herself).
“Oh my god,” I say aloud, suddenly realizing where I’ve heard all of these words before. “Oh my fucking god.” (…) “That was just Bein Balcom’s speech from the movie Jurassic Mark!” I exclaim. “You know, when they’re having dinner and they’ve learned about the dinosaurs that Mark hired for his new theme park?”
This shit is getting nuanced, I’m impressed.
Okay guys, this is where I skip back to the jacket text.
Now it’s up to hotshot speechwriter Perper Tunk to craft a perfect speech for Domald Tromp… with a slight catch. In order to avoid any accusations of plagiarism, Domald has requested that all facts, concrete plans or rational logic be removed from the statement, leaving only a haze of vaguely patriotic fluff
Sounds like any other Trouuuhmp speech, if I may say so.
The speech is a success, but when a physically manifested version of the political rhetoric ends up at Perper’s hotel room, he’s faced with the consequences of what it means to create something that looks beautiful on the outside but is completely vacant within. All of this culminates in a hardcore gay encounter between a man and his intentionally vague, fear mongering speech.
I have no words.
What the actual fuck.
This exists. It exists. Someone sat down and thought he should write 4000 pages about hardcore gay encounters with questionable presidential nominees. I’ll let you know as soon as I have decided whether this shit is utterly horrifying or deeply impressing.
If you are brave enough, feel free to continue along the adventures with Chuck Tingle.
As for me, I don’t think I can ever be mentally stable enough to do that.
Like #SadLitSunday? Cool, I’m not even going to try and promise there will be a new one each Sunday, but I’m keeping my options open. Have a really shitty book you want to suggest? Awesome, let me know!