Was Donald Trump Jr. on Cocaine? And Other Questions From the First Day of the Republican National Convention

On Monday, Satan had his first Zoom call and the results were a baffling mess of mayonnaise-slathered fuckshit. Day one of the Republican National Convention was basically an all-you-can-eat buffet of clusterfuckness. I don’t even know where to begin.

Let’s just start with cocaine, shall we?

I’m no doctor, but I play one for The Root and as such, I can tell you that while I can’t diagnose Donald Trump Jr. as being coked the fuck out of his mind during his speech—which, if he was, actually makes him more likable to me—but I can tell you that he exhibited all of the signs of someone who was coked the fucked out. His eyes looked like $2 shades, his face was sweaty and his eyes were bloodshot.

Is this the face of a healthy non-coked out man?

Methinks not.

I wonder what Aubrey O’Day thinks:

It’s hard to tell a coked-out person from a regular asshole, but I assure you something was different on this night. Donald Trump Jr. was so obvi that “cocaine” was trending on Twitter during the RNC. Stephen Colbert, who was running a live monologue during the convention said, “It was his keynote address, in that he looked like he had snorted a key. So before I tell you what he said, can we zoom in on Junior’s sweaty face and wet, bloodshot eyes? Either he’s high or that’s what happens when you live in the splash zone of Screamin’ [Kim] Guilfoyle. Just bring a poncho!”

Screamin’ Guilfoyle, Trump Jr.’s ladyfriend, was on her 2004 Howard Dean shit and decided she was going to scream her way through her whole fucking speech because she was totally not coked out. I think she believes that she was being impassioned but she just came off like a yelling banshee. Also, this was a prerecorded speech, which means whoever was recording could have said, “Hey Kim, ummm….we are going to give it another run but this time maybe give me less roaring tiger and more shy kitten.”

Also, Guilfoyle was the RNC’s version of a “proud Latina” and that worked out about as well as you’d imagine:

Man, the Blacks for Trump were in the building and they shucked up and tapped out. Fucking Herschel Walker. Again, I’m not a doctor but it did appear to me that Walker was suffering from CTE, which has befallen many football players. Of course, I’m talking about Caucasian Traumatic Encephalopathy, in which a Black man’s brain begins thinking like a white man.

“It hurts my soul to hear the terrible names that people call Donald. The worst one is ‘racist.’ I take it as a personal insult that people would think I would have a 37-year friendship with a racist,” he said. “People who think that don’t know what they are talking about. Growing up in the Deep South, I have seen racism up close. I know what it is. And it isn’t Donald Trump.”

You can see the rest of Walker’s speech below as I don’t have the energy or the wherewithal to type it.

I hate what I’m about to type, so I will be brief; I’m no fan of Sen. Tim Scott (R-S.C.) but he did his work yesterday. His speech was all right and the line, “Our family went from cotton to Congress” was probably the most compelling line of the night. But for Scott to have delivered such a competent speech for such a divisive party, my only cry while watching this was, “Don’t you see they’re using you?” I’ve never been someone who longed for the white gaze of approval but something tells me that after his speech, Scott walked off stage and lowered himself a bit so that his white friends could pat his head and tell him “attaboy,” which is white speak for “great job, handkerchief head.”

Can you hear that noise? It’s the hot bitter tears of Candace Owens crying into her Crate and Barrel bed sheets after watching Kim Klacik, the 2020 version of Owens just in a more sensible kitten-heel, deliver her rousing “Black people are living in blight because of the Democrats” speech at the RNC.

Klacik, the Baltimore congressional candidate who has a Klacik’s chance of getting into any of Trump’s resorts, pulled a page out of the Republican handbook that reads “bullet points for attacking a Democrat city.” She claimed that Baltimore has the potential to be all these things had it not been for Democrats, so if residents want to throw her the ball, she will gladly clean up Baltimore and get it back on its feet. Basically, she wants to put a kitten heel on Baltimore and, well, good luck with that shit.

The question of the night had to go to Rep. Matt Gaetz’s adopted adult son, whom he didn’t really adopt, Nestor. Sweet, innocent, Nestor, who has worked as both Gaetz’s intern and his son depending on who’s asking and what point he’s trying to make.

When Gaetz delivered his dizzying, blathering, bumblefuckery in which he called protesters “woketopians” and claimed that the Dems were going to have MS-13 living next door to your lovely Caucasian homes, he also dropped zingers like:

Fuck. This. Guy. And. His. Pompadour. That. Totally. Just. Called. Me. The. N-word. Hard. R.

And there are still three more days of this shit.

Luckily for y’all, The Root has obtained a copy of Melania’s speech, which she will deliver on Tuesday:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I don’t know what it is that you’ve done to me. But it’s caused me to act in such a crazy way. Whatever it is that you do when you do what you’re doing. It’s a feeling that I don’t understand.

Can you tell me? Oh, no, you can’t ‘cause you don’t know. Can you tell me? Oh yeah, you say you can but you don’t know. Can you tell me? Oh (which flower’s going to grow?). No, you can’t, but you don’t know. Can you tell me? (if it’s going to be a daisy or a rose?). You say you can but you don’t know. Say you can but you don’t know. You don’t know how, you don’t know how.

You made us believe, you kept us off the street. You put clothes on our backs, food on the table. When you didn’t eat, you made sure we ate. You went to sleep hungry. You sacrificed for us. You’re the real MVP.

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