Feel free to take your school meals with you, Michelle. And though it may be petty of me, I hope Trump paves that fake garden of yours.
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They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
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Happily, I was not drinking anything when this popped up on my screen.
I was. FOMCL and ROTF Lawsy lawsy This is just totally priceless. Would love to see this as billboards all over the country. Or the photo on the Presidential Christmas card this year. This is too good to forget.
Oy.
First of all, Madame Obama, you don’t have a job other than mother and wife, because you weren’t the one elected.
Second, the Twenty-second Amendment to the Constitution, not Melania, is taking your First Lady gig from you.
And third, I’m sure it’s only a matter of a very short time before you and Barry set yourselves up with an even sweeter, labor-unintensive, and lucrative gig in so-called private life.
Don’t let the door hit ya where mother nature split ya…