Not Jesus, But Close
Jan Castellano was preparing a simple breakfast of buttered toast in her Missouri home Saturday morning when she was confronted by a familiar, unwanted face.
It puckered, mouth agape with lifeless yellow eyes. It appeared to be caught mid-sentence, flagrantly dispelling angry epithets through fermented cream.
It was the face of Donald Trump in her butter.
Check your food for traces of Donald Trump before you eat. I say this for your own good.