What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
Editor’s Note: This article is a collaborative effort between J-Dub and 837 from First Order Historians. Read at your own risk.
We all know what happened the other night. Donald Trump was elected the 45th President of the United States, and Hilary Clinton freaked the fuck out. Sure, she kept it on lockdown while the cameras were on, but I think we all can figure out what the scene was like behind closed doors.
As is custom in such situations, the losing candidate calls the winner to concede the election. However, all through this campaign it was very clear that Clinton’s feelings toward Trump were more than that of mere rivals. She looked at him during those debates just like my cat looks at me after I give her a bath. If she could rip out my throat, she would…and so would Hilary with Donald.
Having said that, with our vast resources here in the Dubsism research department, we intercepted some raw audio of that traditional concession call, and guess what? It got uglier than Rosie O’Donnell in a thong. But to be honest, as he is wont to do, Trump might have “yanked her chain” a bit…
*Legal Disclaimer – J-Dub and 837 have a strange way of defining certain terms. “Intercepted” should be read as “completely fucking fabricated” by these two jamokes during yet another of their nights spent chuffing floor wax and Pez until 6 a.m. Despite that, we here at Dubsism would be willing to bet they aren’t far from the truth…
Trump: (Holding up phone triumphantly) Look who’s calling to concede! (Answers phone) Hello, Madam Secretary…
Clinton: (ice cold) Hello, Donald.
Trump: I’m guessing this has to do with the way the election numbers are running right now…
Clinton: Well, yes. You put together a very interesting campaign, Mr. Trump and I hereby concede the election to you.
Trump: Thank you, Madam Secretary. I would like to say it has been an absolute honor to run against you. I wanted to make this year’s campaign interesting because I was going for the polar opposite of your personality…you know, trying to be more interesting than a styrofoam cup.
Clinton: So humble, Donald…Why would I expect anything less?
Trump: Well, for starters…you’ve come to expect less than perfection. Let’s get real for a second, folks! (Between the late hour and his fourth scotch, Trump slips into “campaign mode”) For you, the past ten years have been a series of failures. You lost to Obama in ’08, and then ended up working for him. Then there was Benghazi…and then…
Clinton: (interrupting) I was really hoping to keep this formal. I’m trying to stay on the high road here, and just wanted to pass the torch even though I’m not happy with the results.
Trump: That’s a bunch of crap. You’re probably recording this so you can give it to your lickspittles at CNN and MSNBC…you know, the people who hid your fangs every time you were kissing babies. Too bad their putting a collective thumb on the scales didn’t help you. That’s the funny thing about counting though…it’s simple math.
Clinton: (irritated) Hmmmph…What do you know about math? How much counting have you done in your lifetime?
Trump: Hmmmm…let’s see…I’ve got a B.S. in Economics from the best business school in the country, just this morning I counted my $3.7 billion net worth, and right now I’m counting 279 electoral votes! (gives Melania a slap on the ass and does his “thumbs up” gesture).
Clinton: (gritting teeth, starting to turn red) I see.
Trump: (condescending) Awww….did somebody get their feelings hurt? Do you need a “safe space” to hug it out with some social justice warriors? By the way, you might wanna let Anderson Cooper, Wolf Blitzer, Rachel Maddow, and the rest of your liberal media water-carriers to have that picture of Elian Gonzalez screaming in a closet cued up on a loop, because that’s exactly how I’m going to snatch up a shitload of illegals, and their trying to get pictures of all of them is just going to get in the way. I figure I can knock out at least three-quarters of a million of them by Tax Day.
Clinton: (really starting to get pissed) Funny that you mention taxes. I really thought I could take you down with that tax return stuff.
Trump: Well, once again you were wrong. Too bad there’s no such thing as a professional “Being Wrong” league. Not only would you be the #1 overall draft pick, you’d probably go straight to it’s Hall of Fame.
Clinton: Knock it off, Donald. You could be more…
Trump: (interrupting) More what? More willing to let you get away with some bullshit narrative? Here’s a news flash, honey. The average American would love to be able to do what I did when it comes to taxes. Even the littlest guy using TurboTax takes every deduction he can. They know I earned my money, as opposed to opening a virtual supermarket for bribery and stashing the cash in a barely-legal “foundation.”
Clinton: Well, not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths.
Trump: What the fuck are you talking about?
Clinton: Your dad. Your dad lent you a million dollars to get started in life. My dad couldn’t do that.
Trump: First of all, it’s not my fault your dad was a bum. Second of all, I was born in a modest house in Queens, and my dad was the son of immigrants who started as a carpenter and built himself into the real estate business. He made a better life for both me and my sister, who happens to be a judge. That’s what America is about. At least it was until you and your leftie bullshit came about. Not to mention I paid back every cent, and leave it to an economic illiterate and professional parasite like you not to understand what it takes to turn a million into 3.7 billion. How much did you steal from the Clinton Foundation today?
Clinton: This is why you’re going to blow it, Donald. You just can’t help being bombastic.
Trump: Hey, welcome to “No Shit, November,” Toots! Have you been out of circulation for the last 30 years? That’s how I built the Trump brand; that’s what I do!
Clinton: This why you’re going to blow it, Donald. You just don’t understand how politics work.
Trump: Really? Because I’ve got 279 electoral votes that say I do. Not to mention, let’s talk about “blowing it.” This election is the first thing you’ve blown since whichever fat, dorky looking guy fathered that hog-lipped daughter of yours.
Clinton: (now even redder, and has veins coming out of her neck) Wait…What?
Trump: C’mon, Hilary…you can give it up now. We all know you don’t know who Chelsea’s father is…could be Bill, could be Web Hubbell. Could be Rosie O’Donnell with a turkey baster full of “ugly” sperm.
Clinton: Now you wait just a goddamn minute…
Trump: (interrupting) It was Rosie, wasn’t it. That’s the closest you’ve ever been to “blowing” anything…gargling with her big, sweaty clit…isn’t it? And even if it isn’t, how much Wild Turkey did it take to let one off those goofy-looking lard-asses plant his seed in your ice-clam?
Clinton: (explodes) That’s it! Fuck you! Fuck you and your Jersey Shore bronzer-job, your shitty Super-Cuts haircut, and that bimbo cum-sponge wife of yours!
Trump: You’re just pissed because you have the only pussy on earth neither I or your husband would grab, and trust me Honey…we’ve grabbed ’em all!
Clinton: (hangs up)