Last night America witnessed the first and possibly only debate between two presidential hopefuls. One of them, former president Trump, came down pretty hard on illegal immigrants who have abortions after birth and eat dogs. His opponent, and actually both moderators, immediately denied that such a demographic even exists. Well, I can assure you, there is at least one of us.
I am one of the child-killing dog eaters who entered the country illegally, and despite his harsh words against people like me, Trump has my vote. Is it because he makes me feel seen? Partially, but in order to fully understand my reasoning, you need to know a bit about my journey.
I came to this country seeking asylum, by which I of course mean a mental institution that would terminate the pregnancy I just gave birth to, then escape and eat your beloved family dog like the late great Michael Myers. Imagine my surprise when I got to America!
Just getting here was a nightmare, it took me a dozen attempts and I was coming from Canada for fucks sake! I made my way to what I was told was an illegal immigrant hotspot hoping someone could point me to the nearest baby disposal facility, hoping it would be right next to your beautiful white picket home, 2.5 children, and your well-fed and clearly delicious dog. Everyone I met however was just some loser looking for back-breaking labor so they could send money to their families. I began to wonder if this was even the right America.
Then there was the hospital, where I demanded my abortion and was simply asked “How long have you been pregnant?” Like, hey genius, I’m clearly holding a newborn, do they not teach math at med school? Then when they finally did take my baby they just gave it a bunch of food and medicine, the opposite of what I ordered! Couple that with the fact that I’ve yet to eat a single animal with a name-tag and I am one PISSED illegal immigrant!
So why am I voting for a man who essentially tricked me into thinking this was the land of the free and home of illegal baby-killing dog eaters? Because we can help each other out.
As Kamala Harris poignantly pointed out, Trump would rather run on a problem than fix it. By supporting him, it is my hope that he will provide avenues for me to murder my son and slow roast your labradoodle so he can point and say “See?”
Mr. Trump is a businessman after all, and he will recognize that this is a fantastic deal. He scratches my back (allowing me to murder my child and eat an animal you love like a member of your family) I scratch his (becoming a living avatar of his fear-mongering lies Twilight Zone/monkey’s paw ironic-twist style.) He’s already cozied up to Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un without losing one ounce of support from his “patriotic” base. Surely the MAGA crowd can forgive a bit of backroom dealing with one lowly baby-killing dog eater?
We didn’t have tightrope or alligators at our disposal so we jumped directly into the gator tank at the zoo, Harambe style. However, we were immediately tackled by several zookeepers and busted our shoulder. Would not recommend. Turns out, it didn’t even look cool.
The environment seemed perfect. We stole a bunch of armor from the museum, fashioned jousting weaponry out of two-by-fours and aluminum foil, and stole our little brothers’ bicycles. Unfortunately, the first responders didn’t find any of this funny.
Not only will you leave the ER with lifelong debilitating injuries, but you will also have to spend the night in jail for trespassing into a country club, not to mention stealing all the golf carts and defacing private property. We did not see any of this coming. Even after careful planning.
Telling the ER you got mauled by a bear will instantly make them empathize. But the minute you tell them you smothered yourself in honey and salmon chunks and strapped yourself to a chair in the middle of grizzly country beforehand, it’s like you don’t even exist to the medical community. What gives?
To perform this stunt, all you need is a few hundred bees. So we found the closest nest, lathered our genitals in honey, and the stunt just did itself. Mind you, if you are allergic to bee stings, you will need medical attention almost immediately and will be forced to turn your entire paycheck over to a corporate hospital until further notice.
Who knew a golf course could be so hazardous? For this one, we would blow our airhorn right as an unsuspecting golfer was about to take their swing. This only seemed to anger people. One of them hit a golf ball directly at us while we were hiding in the bushes as retaliation. It hit us square in the head. There’s still a noticeable lump. We will never be the same.
This one was more on us. Sure, we tried every element the Jackass crew did for this one, only we didn’t have enough money for an actual cup and jockstrap part. In hindsight, medical debt is actually way pricier than the 35 bucks we should’ve just scrounged together. In conclusion, having no cup failed every test.
This one involves a giant prop hand that wallops you unsuspectingly as you walk through a doorway. Seems tame enough. Only one of us was holding a collection of knives, razorblades, and generic sharp objects. Let’s just say the blood stains won’t come out of the carpet.
For this one, the Jackass boys stuffed a toy car up one of their asses to pull a harmless little prank on the local butt doctor. But we couldn’t just be derivative and do the exact same thing, so we stuffed about a dozen of them up there. The doctors had more questions than we had answers.
This one involved two very specific elements: a children’s playground and a live bull. However, it’s not as easy as you would think to get your hands on a four-way teeter-totter. Though it’s shockingly quick to get a particularly muscular and angry cattle. We decided to go with swings instead of a totter. We got demolished almost instantly.
This one also involves a bull. Figured since our buddy already loaned us his bull for the day, might as well take full advantage. But now we are seeing that the more time you spend with a bull the more suffocating medical debt you will rack up. Stay far away from bulls as humanly possible.
Just like in the movie, the rocket we put together from scratch completely self-destructed as we tried to launch it into the lake while straddling it. That’s the last time we order a 12-foot rocket from the dark web. Their return policy is surprisingly strict.
Turns out, making everyone you know shit in a porta potty, strapping it to bungee cords, and launching it straight up in the air with you in it is a total nightmare. We passed out immediately and when we came to we were leaving the hospital with a bill that was equivalent to paying for six new Kia Souls.
Famous boxer and internet personality Jake Paul was kind enough to agree to beat the crap out of us in the middle of a Kohl’s. In fact, he said “yes” before we even finished our sentence. In the end, we somehow sustained six concussions with one punch from him. He’s clearly pummeled guys in the jeans section before.
The premise seemed simply enough. Take a 15-foot long anaconda and submerge in a ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese. Then go ahead and try to wrangle the thing with your best bud. Luckily, these types of snakes aren’t venomous, but somehow it still hurts like hell after a good 25 bites.
