I would totally take that stone house in Long Branch
For sure.
Children, long before there was a McDonald's at every freeway exit across (maybe only western) America, there was Stuckey's, a place where something called "pecan logs" were the main attraction. Each building had a blue pagoda roof, and many still exist. <img src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1166/1197938073_7fbf72598d_z.jpg" />
The failure of his eponymous park did not prevent 45*-to-be from capitalizing on the name with some failed-park-adjacent |condos|.<img src="http://i68.tinypic.com/15e8tgj.png">But wait, read the fine print:
Trump Park Residences is not owned, developed or sold by Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates. Yorktown Realty Associates, LLC, the owner and developer of the property, uses the “Trump” name and mark under license from Trump Marks Westchester, LLC, which license may be terminated or revoked according to terms.
WARNING! YOU ARE COMMITTING A THOUGHT CRIME! LEAVE THIS PAGE IMMEDIATELY!
Citizens are not even supposed to be consciously aware of the dog park, so they could not possibly be receiving a menacing and unearthly voice instructing listeners to bring precious metals and toddlers to the dog park! DOG PARK, that could NEVER, EVER BE REAL. http://nightvale.wikia.com/wiki/The_Dog_Park
Honestly, it's hard not to feel sorry for Trump.
Spoiled rich kid, but clearly deprived of familial affection. Or any affection, for that matter. No friends, wives he has to pay for. His only selling point as a human being is that he's rich and "classy", but no matter how rich he is he will always be laughed at by anyone with even a modicum of taste. He's an insecure bully, who knows that everyone in the country, everyone whose opinion he has ever cared about, everyone he tries so desparately hard to impress, is just laughing at him. And although he can buy all the best things in the world, he is unable to really enjoy any of them. He doesn't even know what he enjoys – everything is just purchased and displayed to show other people that he has the taste he doesn't have (even his 'man of the people' moments like taco bowls are just appealing to a different audience). He cares so much about appearances, about the furnishings of the oval office, the quality of the food, not because he enjoys any of it, but because he thinks he's meant to and wants our approval – but can never get it. And so he's left in an empty white house – unable even to find enough sycophants to fill it, and half of those leaking against him – his wife unwilling to be with him, his house filled with the reminders of better men, living out the nightmare that, no, even if he becomes president of the united states he will still never earn love or even a slight facade of respect, doing a job he hates and doesn't understand, virtually imprisoned by security and press, his time divided between structured and incomprehensible requirements, and long periods of anomie with nothing to do but sit around and watch endless hours of cable news, and in the ad breaks, desparate for something, anything, to break the cruel monotony of his existence, he stumbles around the house in a tacky bathrobe looking for hope, but unable to even operate the lightswitches, and too proud to ask anyone for help, so he repeatedly bangs his shins on the busts of presidents who sneer at him, their laughter echoing through his dreams in the few precious hours before his jailer force him awake again for the next day in a sentence of fourteen hundred days, after which he will at last be released into the relative freedom of an old age spent as the most mocked and demeaned man in the world, when his family and flunkies have all cast him aside, when he no longer even has the power to merit good decent life-affirming hatred but only ridicule, pity, the constant slights of being overlooked, of not being treated like a real former president but only as a collective delusion, an embarassing 21st century macarena, and finally, probably even before he dies, his passing into trivia-question anonymity.
Of course, this shithole was a $100 million tax write off. And the fraud in chief would also say it was a "charitable" act. Two more reasons we'll never see those tax returns. He does not do charity.
Throw a couple of burning tire fields in there, and it's got real potential as the harbinger of the planet under Trump policies.
One of those abandoned buildings has got to be a meth lab, and a shooting gallery around the corner. Y'know, for realism.
Also needs moar Confederate flag & swastika.
I am sooo glad that that's not in NJ.
Agreed, N.J. has | way cooler ruins. |
I would totally take that stone house in Long Branch
For sure.
Children, long before there was a McDonald's at every freeway exit across (maybe only western) America, there was Stuckey's, a place where something called "pecan logs" were the main attraction. Each building had a blue pagoda roof, and many still exist. <img src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1166/1197938073_7fbf72598d_z.jpg" />
Yer thinkin' those types ain't a-feared o' no 'sbestos?
The failure of his eponymous park did not prevent 45*-to-be from capitalizing on the name with some failed-park-adjacent |condos|.<img src="http://i68.tinypic.com/15e8tgj.png">But wait, read the fine print:
WARNING! YOU ARE COMMITTING A THOUGHT CRIME! LEAVE THIS PAGE IMMEDIATELY!
Citizens are not even supposed to be consciously aware of the dog park, so they could not possibly be receiving a menacing and unearthly voice instructing listeners to bring precious metals and toddlers to the dog park! DOG PARK, that could NEVER, EVER BE REAL.
http://nightvale.wikia.com/wiki/The_Dog_Park
"As if we would want to go to a dog park named after that asshole!"
– my two dogs
They could pee or poop on him.
<img src="http://s2.quickmeme.com/img/40/4007de1387c78dae335cb74d02ebce8b56660aa0777d12b8a75208b3e75b479d.jpg"</img>
I read the comments. There were some great ones.
Example
Wastrel Phartus • 4 hours ago
Honestly, it's hard not to feel sorry for Trump.
Spoiled rich kid, but clearly deprived of familial affection. Or any affection, for that matter. No friends, wives he has to pay for. His only selling point as a human being is that he's rich and "classy", but no matter how rich he is he will always be laughed at by anyone with even a modicum of taste. He's an insecure bully, who knows that everyone in the country, everyone whose opinion he has ever cared about, everyone he tries so desparately hard to impress, is just laughing at him. And although he can buy all the best things in the world, he is unable to really enjoy any of them. He doesn't even know what he enjoys – everything is just purchased and displayed to show other people that he has the taste he doesn't have (even his 'man of the people' moments like taco bowls are just appealing to a different audience). He cares so much about appearances, about the furnishings of the oval office, the quality of the food, not because he enjoys any of it, but because he thinks he's meant to and wants our approval – but can never get it. And so he's left in an empty white house – unable even to find enough sycophants to fill it, and half of those leaking against him – his wife unwilling to be with him, his house filled with the reminders of better men, living out the nightmare that, no, even if he becomes president of the united states he will still never earn love or even a slight facade of respect, doing a job he hates and doesn't understand, virtually imprisoned by security and press, his time divided between structured and incomprehensible requirements, and long periods of anomie with nothing to do but sit around and watch endless hours of cable news, and in the ad breaks, desparate for something, anything, to break the cruel monotony of his existence, he stumbles around the house in a tacky bathrobe looking for hope, but unable to even operate the lightswitches, and too proud to ask anyone for help, so he repeatedly bangs his shins on the busts of presidents who sneer at him, their laughter echoing through his dreams in the few precious hours before his jailer force him awake again for the next day in a sentence of fourteen hundred days, after which he will at last be released into the relative freedom of an old age spent as the most mocked and demeaned man in the world, when his family and flunkies have all cast him aside, when he no longer even has the power to merit good decent life-affirming hatred but only ridicule, pity, the constant slights of being overlooked, of not being treated like a real former president but only as a collective delusion, an embarassing 21st century macarena, and finally, probably even before he dies, his passing into trivia-question anonymity.
Poor guy.
Well, that and fascism. You knew who else seemed glum?
p.s. remember the good old days not so many months ago when YKWE was just a little joke?
Of course, this shithole was a $100 million tax write off. And the fraud in chief would also say it was a "charitable" act. Two more reasons we'll never see those tax returns. He does not do charity.