RON SCHALOW: American Horror Circus Arrival Imminent

So,  the well endowed Mar-a-Lago mermaid is coming to Fargo to scare the immigrants. That’s just perfect. Personally, I can feel an orange gelatin evil in the Force. And I’m not even one of those little green dudes. I’m just happy to know that Mark Hamill has enough cash to get by.

Anyway, the Mar-a-Lago manatee will be in town to fete the rare accomplishments of the junior congressman of North Dakota, the benign blotch under Trump’s left boob and former sex shop window mannequin, Kevin Cramer. Just kidding! Trump will be at Scheels Arena to flap his KFC gravy injected lips about his favorite person. Himself.

And according to reports, Old Bone Spurs is going to tell the cultists about the many occasions he had intentionally wandered into the women’s dressing rooms and leered at naked females at the beauty pageants he owned. Teens included. Just kidding! It’s true, but I guess he’s going to verbally deliver a hagiography of his new best pal and Rob Port’s long lost twin, Kim Jong-un, and brag about their signing of a Denny’s breakfast menu.

Their beady eyes met, they ran to each other through a field of daffodils, and there was a lot of circular dancing. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Polka, maybe. We get it. Oh, he’s so smart. He’s so funny. K was so handsome at the mixer. Is he going out with anyone? Oh my, he’s in a fraternity?

Just shut up about Poppin’ Fresh. Nobody here cares about the little screwy haired troll. Besides, he had his frat brothers whacked, so they’re not that close. And North Dakota has more firepower than that evil little bastard buried in our dirt. Plus two Air Force bases that are above ground. Don’t tell Donnie, lest he get some warped ideas.

So, DT, please don’t tell us you HAD to kiss KY jelly belly’s ample ass to keep us from getting nuclearated. Just admit you had a love connection because no great deal-making took place in Singapore. That’s right, we were watching. And we don’t care if you were hungry. A regular-sized Snickers bar isn’t enough for our part of your sordid arrangement. Plus, it’s doubtful they have one.

We, and yes, I do speak for all North Dakotans, want to know about soybeans and the metal our manufacturers need to make big-ass machines, grain bins and horseshoes. You know, the asinine tariffs. Hand hold on your own time.

Someone will write a speech for the great pumpkin and put it on the teleprompter. Probably Stephen Miller, the anti-Christ’s little brother. Rumored. Just kidding! Steph is the real deal.

The words will be written for a fourth-grader because that’s the skill level of our POTUS. But as is his custom, Spanky will get bored, or get tired of the effort involved in reading, and go off on a wild sweaty adventure of lying, score-settling, name-calling, ass-covering, excuses, wild stories and self-back patting.

Maybe he’ll take this gem out for a spin.

While regaling a FOX stiff about his great achievements in Singapore, he simply made up an easily verifiable story about the remains of American soldiers still in North Korea, and their really old parents. Very old.

“We have thousands of people who have asked for that — thousands and thousands of people, so many people asked when I was on the campaign. I would say, ‘Wait a minute, I don’t have any relationship.’ But they said, ‘When you can, president, we’d love our son to be brought back home — you know, the remains.’”

Trump added the following flourish of bullshit. “I said, ‘Will you do me a favor (to Kim)? The remains of these great fallen heroes, can we do something?’ He agreed to it immediately. It was pretty great.” — CBS Los Angeles

Then, they shared a cheesecake and a small 3-gallon pitcher of melted Hershey Kisses. It was magical. We might even get extra bones. The teeny mass murderer has cornered the human remains market in the hellscape he helped create for his people. And how do they thank KJ? By dying of starvation. Ingrates.

Maybe Clownzilla will tell us about his close relationship with the white nationalists who adore him and other whites, mostly men, who feel like they’re being genocided because all shades of people have lived on this turf over the course of the last 10,000 years, and the less reflective ones make their lives suck, for some reason.

Mr. Trump, they won’t leave and let us have a white ethno-state and we’re sad. These ethno-idiots are the ones who don’t see the flaws in wall technology.

It surely would be a crowd-pleaser if the New York asshole would go into a full white grievance rant. I’m sure Pete Tefft, Fargo’s known activist for white people, as if he’s the only racist in town, will be there.

Tefft has a supporting role in the new documentary, “White Right: Meeting the Enemy.” He didn’t impress anyone with his intellect, since it wasn’t discernable. He and his tiki tot buddies are Trump’s superbase. None but 10 percent of Republicans waiver from Trump’s hip, but these maniacs are nuts.

Speaking of weasels, Rob Port spent the last six years, with steam shooting out all orifices and his brain cell fixated on Sen. Heidi Heitkamp. She won an election, and that hurt his feelings. Port permanently resides on Cramer’s lap and has done a 180 on Trump, since flirting with sanity before the 2016 election.

Cramer craves Trump, and Port needs Cramer, so the weasel got in line. Not so long ago, Robbie had strong feelings about dumbo, and the base they share, when he wrote:.

  • “Trump knows exactly how dumb his supporters are, and has manipulated their ignorance to great effect.”
  • “Trump seems content to pander to actual paranoid racists.”
  • “I do not think Trump should win the presidency, however. He’s an embarrassment. He is not fit to lead our country.”

So, Port’s a hypocrite, and if Cramer is a Christian, he’s not a good one. Not if he’s for cruelty to kids, and their families, and not helping people who find themselves as refugees. Neither is a shock. And no, feeding rich people doesn’t count, Kev.

As for Cramer, he’s a secure cowardly vote for anything Trump wishes. That’s all Don sees. Someone to do his bidding. That’s why he’ll waddle onto the stage. He’ll screw Kevin over at some point, just like he has to thousands of others.

Name one thing Kevin has actually done in the past six years besides bitch about pantsuits, and promise to discriminate against anything LGBTQ-related. Fashion tips and bigotry don’t count. I couldn’t think of any accomplishments, so I looked.

Three of Cramer’s bills have become law, and only one of them had any purpose. Rename buildings or make grilled cheese the national sandwich. I sure don’t care, but don’t say you’ve had any impact, Kev.

Cramer once arranged a science committee meeting to prove that Bakken crude doesn’t explode, even though Bakken oil trains were exploding regularly. There are tons of witnesses, photos and video, but the evidence didn’t convince oil boy. Harold Hamm isn’t the finance guy on Kevin’s campaign for the free key rings.

And yes I’m implying exactly what I’m implying.

Cramer didn’t want to run in a tough race for Senate in the first place, and he can’t decide if the people of North Dakota, Harold Hamm or Donald Trump changed his mind. Trump begged him, though. He’s sure of that much.

Scheels Arena is only 2½ miles from my home. It makes me itchy. But surely, the motorcade will come south on Interstate 29 from the airport, so I can extend a finger and take a knee at any point before the botox bomber turns off at 32nd Avenue.

Bonus: Gag reflex tester from the Rolling Stone. You know who said it.

“You know, no men are anywhere. And I’m allowed to go in because I’m the owner of the pageant. And therefore I’m inspecting it … Is everyone OK? You know, they’re standing there with no clothes. And you see these incredible-looking women. And so I sort of get away with things like that.”

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Ron Schalow

Ron Schalow is the owner of Iceberg Publishing, president of The Coalition for Bakken Crude Oil Stabilization and an amatuer agitator. Among Schalow's writings are two books: a nonfiction book about 9/11 and the movements of George W. Bush on that tragic day called "Bull$#!* Artist”; and a novel about an unlikely group of American suicide bombers who have been dropped into the tribal regions of Pakistan. It is named "Perfect Whackjobs." Schalow lives in Fargo.

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