Oh, dear. This is not good. Phillip Mudd, former Deputy Director of the FBI, suggested:
“You can’t take this seriously. You feel like you’ve got to give the president of the United States a pacifier and a rattle and put him in the crib.”
The Dude’s a rube. “Rube” likely is derived from the German word for a root vegetable, “rübe.” It lost the umlaut in translation.
The union of Vanna White’s “Wheel of Fortune” with “Desperate Housewives.” No longer the apprentice, the Dude is now the star. Alternate reality has come to Washington, undisguised. The world of the soap opera and game show realized.
Familiarity may breed contempt, but not in the family values clan.
The Dude is a compendium of cliches come to life. Nothing that comes out of his mouth hasn’t been heard a million times before.
Authoritarianism without the cracker and sip of wine. Now Russians have seen the light.
Parrots do not think before or after speaking.
Mourning becomes the elected.
A gun show is like a strip club. That explains a lot.
The object of the euphemism is deception.
The triangulator in chief.
Only in fiction does the Dude do anything or consider time.
Apparently, some celebrity hounds discriminate as to the kind of notoriety they seek. Putin is reputed not to appreciate the face paint and the artist has been sent to psychiatric care.
Perhaps he’s got a point. Being defaced is tantamount to being destroyed when appearance is all you’ve got.
How come people directed by superficial optics talk so much. It’s like “in one eye and out the mouth.” No processing involved.