Massive Representation : VP’s for the Trump-meister

Massive Representation : VP’s for the Trump-meister

A few disclaimers from the writer – This was written on a Saturday morning pre sustenance of any sort after a night of casual drinking. He did not put research of any kind into this, just observations and that which he already knows or believes to be true. He hasn’t the faintest idea of which party he’s registered to, and looks forward to the coming general election as much as kissing girls with halitosis.

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The current presidential race, GOP specific, is (as ever) historic. This might be interpreted in many a way. There’s the “never been more clear” buying of candidates by Franklin’s wrinkly face in the interests of men behind curtains, Twitter’s highjacking the conscience of 50+ year olds at rates I previously assumed fantastical, and of course, our push into a full bore United States of Broadcast Television.

Donald Trump, like it or not, is going to be the GOP candidate. Part of me believes this is a good thing, because the old hats of the Republican party (or the party system in general) have done reprehensible damage to this country. This is something that Trump must inherently understand, for he is not blind, he is not stupid, and he surely sees the force with which his word swells have morphed into humanoid tornadoes of bigotry and its recognition spanning sea to shining sea. This most likely would not be happening had men like the Koch brothers made even a sloths attempt at getting back in touch with reality over the last two decades.

These are the types of men backing whatever it is the Republican party’s modern iteration has, ever confusedly, become. Types of men who, on one pole, poured hundreds of millions of dollars into a fading family dream. On the other, assumed the approval of minority interest thought to be swallowed whole by Obamanation for the previous two election cycles. This is the painfully fucking awkward, kind of guy you could see peeing his pants on the mound, atrocity of debate rhetoric Jeb Bush. Side by side with a freshman senator, child of immigrants, all signs point to in over his head Marco Rubio. These set in stone strategies, to me, serve as the best proof we’ve ever had that the GOP has crumbled from within. I’d say this is good news for Trump, but he seems to be the catalyst. And for those feeling the ‘Bern suddenly shaking in their boots at the increasing likelihood of America’s least personable woman stuffing the left’s savior candidate in a locker, do not fret over the Donald. Complaining about one thing is so the same as complaining about the other, like you’d really fucking prefer Ted Cruz to this shit.

In any event, American citizens are surrounded by…something. Insofar as Mr. Trump goes, this warrants a serious discussion on whom he’s going to tag as his running mate. Even the (potential) healthiest president of all time needs a security blanket or, someone else to flub lips amidst all the winning.


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5.

Sheriff Cooley – O Brother, Where Art Thou

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If Mexico is actually going to pay for the wall while ISIS simultaneously has its head cut off and oil ripped from certain cold, dead hands, this ever hatable law enforcement figure could be the way to go. Managing to track down George Clooney with nothing but a band of serially inept henchmen, good ‘ol dogs, and a trail of early fashion hair gel isn’t anything to scoff at. He seems to have a habit of losing the prize via unfortunate location at the time of a natural disaster – but he strikes me as the type of man who can really get behind China’s invention of global warming to chop the knees out from under U.S. manufacturing. So, fuck it. He’s reminiscent of laughing at Ray Lewis’s dumb ass fur hats over the Monday night broadcast, then realizing none of the nerds in the production booth are going to tell him to take it off.

4. 

Blue Man Group

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Look at them, curious, insightful, morally and sexually ambiguous. No, I don’t care that they have “man” in the stage name, it’s 2016 you asshole, for all we know they’re showing up to the venue in dresses ripping shots to a Sporty Spice chorus. I may be in the minority here, but I’m not sure what it is exactly Trump is trying to represent — I feel the same about the blue man group. Where are the certainties? They’re both world traveler circus performers who’s natural beauty is aaaaaabsolutely not the power behind them getting laid.

3.

Every mother on Toddlers and Tiaras, ever.

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Brash, unapologetic, and certainly not concerned with forms of lower intelligence like spelling and grammatical correctness. Perfect backbone for a guy who would probably date his daughter if she wasn’t his daughter.

2.

Shaq era Kobe.

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The 2000’s, pretty times, pretty times. He still wore a single digit, publicly embarrassed everyone in French, and ran his costar out of town only to get diss-tracked afterward. See that fucking smirk? He probably just jumped backwards over Allen Iverson and dunked it with his foot while making a joke about maxed out credit lines. A pretty logical rape charge couldn’t even bring the guy down, only lost the Nutella sponsorship. I redact my initial post on this site – Shaq era Kobe is the antihero, not Kanye.

1.

Yoko Ono

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Few people on this planet as famous as Trump, the old Beatle crusher just might be one of ’em. She’s a woman, who Trump loves. Granted, she’s got the Asian thing going against her, but breaking up America’s biggest threat to rock supremacy (given his tune choice at campaign rallies) most likely gives her the pass. If you shouldn’t hate what you don’t understand, there’s no better candidate to take temporary measures while we figure out “what the hell is going on” than this pretty bird.

 

Honorable Mention

Eric Cartman

What should be fairly obvious reasons.

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