The Poetry of Donald J. Trump -- "Walking around with no legs" edition

The BBQ Pit
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I couldn’t believe that he actually said that, so I had to check out the actual transcript (link at bottom).

He did. There are clearly no limits on what he will say.

Trump news conference at Trump National Doral, March 9 2026

We’re knocking them out.

We know where they all are.

We’re knocking them out very quickly.

We’re ahead of our initial timeline by a lot.

I would say that we probably would not have thought after a month

We’d be here.

In addition to the fact that we’ve taken out the leadership

Uh twice

And maybe three times

And we, as you know,

We want to be involved.

We don’t want another president

That maybe wouldn’t be willing to do

What I’m willing to do

For the good of the world,

For the good of our nation

To be stuck with the situation in

Five years or

Ten years from now.

So we think they should put a president in

Or the head of the country in

That’s going to be able to do something

Peacefully for a change.

They’ve been doing this for 47 years,

Killing people for 47 years,

Whether it’s the barracks

Or even the USS Cole,

Where they were involved very strongly.

They always denied it,

But they were very strongly involved

In all of the people that died

Through the roadside bombs

Died in –

Are right now walking around

With no legs,

No arms

A face that’s been so badly damaged.

The Iranian regime has been attacking Americans

And spreading terror for 47 years.

And despite these countless opportunities

To renounce their nuclear ambitions,

Which they had just a short while ago,

They told Mr. Witkoff

Who is standing right over here.

They said

Uh,

They actually said

We want to keep building,

Essentially in a nutshell,

We want to continue

To build nuclear weapons

If we didn’t knock out Midnight Hammer.

If we didn’t knock out

Their Iranian potential,

If we didn’t do that with Midnight Hammer,

They would have had a nuclear weapon.

They would have used it long before.

Now and at a minimum,

Israel would have been annihilated.

It was very lucky that we had the courage

To do that

That we had the talented pilots

And the great equipment

The B-2 bombers are unbelievable.

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I think you cut it off before he completed the “weave”. The weave typically takes a funny detour through the large size of Arnold Palmer’s penis, then something about deranged Joe Biden before then coming full circle.

My head hurts reading that transcript.

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Mine too. :exploding_head:

I think Vogon poetry is better which is saying a lot.

“Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe.

The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled “My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles” when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.

The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.”

― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Here is an example (and, honestly, waaay better than Trump…shocker):slight_smile:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me, (with big yawning)
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles, grumbling
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and stipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles.
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!