He’s Two Years Old
I rarely tell tales about my fabulous redheaded grandson, but this one seems appropriate now. He had just turned two when his Uncle’s birthday party was at a fancy restaurant. I had promised him cake and he was not going to let me off the hook. When the cake arrived he was gloriously amazed. “Gigi,” he said in amazement, “it’s cake AND it’s chocolate.” Until that moment he thought all cake was vanilla and all chocolate was M&Ms, but here were the two favorite things all in one. It was adorable because he’s, you know, two years old.
Now I take you to Donald Trump, who is supposedly older than two years old.
He’s describing the night he took ole Syria down.
I was sitting at the table. We had finished dinner. We’re now having dessert. And we had the most beautiful piece of chocolate cake that you’ve ever seen and President Xi was enjoying it.
And I was given the message from the generals that the ships are locked and loaded, what do you do?
And we made a determination to do it, so the missiles were on the way. And I said, Mr. President, let me explain something to you. This was during dessert.
We’ve just fired 59 missiles, all of which hit, by the way, unbelievable, from, you know, hundreds of miles away, all of which hit, amazing.
It’s so incredible. It’s brilliant. It’s genius.
And that wasn’t even the looniest thing he said in the interview.
And yes, by the way, they all hit. The ground. They all hit the ground but not much else.