President Donald Trump has just released fragrances for God-fearing, America-loving patriots. While proudly wearing Trump’s trademark red MAGA caps, they can now make an olfactory declaration of their love of the U S of A!
The fragrances named “Trump Victory 45-47” — referring to his capturing the 45th and 47th presidencies — are available as cologne for men and perfume for women, and are bargain priced at only $249 for the limited edition 3.3 fl oz numbered collectors version. You can get them at the dedicated website. Hurry! They won’t last.
I recognize that there are some nasty people out there, cynics who would want to portray Trump as being a crude, obnoxious opportunist, using his prominence as the world-renowned leader of the most powerful and wealthiest country in human history, to suck money out of the wallets of Trump loyalists and other gullible chumps. This would obviously be a grotesque and insulting abuse of power.
But hey, let’s cut the man some slack.
What’s his motto? It’s not MTRGA: ‘Make Trump Resorts Great Again’. It’s MAGA! ‘Make America Great Again!’ That says it all! That tells us where his loyalties really lie.
Trump is not getting any younger. He probably hasn’t — especially considering his diet — got that many years left on this Earth. Yet he’s dedicating this final chapter in his life to service to our nation. His devotion to the United States of America limitless and beyond dispute.
Look at the reality. He’s been a super-entrepreneur all his life, wheeling, dealing, perfecting the art of the deal. He could right now be in the private sector bankrupting companies. Instead, he is selflessly committed his life to the public sector, bankrupting the country.
No, you naysaying nitpickers, ‘Trump Fragrances’ is not some scam. Trump Fragrances is our deeply patriotic, courageous, noble president’s bold and history-changing attack on the stench that now belches from our bilious economy, the noxious fumes hovering over our whole putrid and stagnating society, the effluvium exuded by the political milieu of Washington DC.
And what a stinky mess our governing institutions, including the Executive Branch, have become! The swamp creatures roaming the halls of power are exclusively beholden to the ruling elite — the extreme ultra wealthy — pathologically beguiled by American exceptionalism, addicted to war, paranoid, xenophobic, ill-informed, insular, myopic, misinformed, delusional, deaf, dumb, and blind. And that’s on a good day!
But there is hope!
Trump Fragrances will displace the putrefying off-gassing of our dying democracy, the foul stench of corruption and treachery, the malodor of malfeasance and incompetence, the rank miasma of hypocrisy and betrayal, and doggedly overpower the fetid reek of failure with the SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS . . . of winning and winning and winning again and again.
Yes, good people, with Trump Fragrances, we are witnessing a revolution in the making!
Call it the . . . New World Odor.
Life In Japan: City Boy Gardener
Yes, we’re at it again. Playing in the dirt, stocking our shelves and fridge with fresh, healthy vegetables.
Actually, as many Japanese do who are not officially farmers, we do this every year.
Mind you, growing up I didn’t have a garden. I lived in a mobile home park and our yard was about the size of a throw rug. And it was suburban Detroit. Detroit was not exactly famous for its farms at the time. It was the Motown sound and automobiles, i.e. groups like the Four Tops and Supremes providing the rhythms for tearing up the dance floor, and gigantic factories belching smoke to provide the world with family transportation. The population then was over 2,000,000. Now it’s less than 750,000 and I’ve heard — have not confirmed this with a personal visit — now there are actually huge tracts of abandoned property and Detroiters are growing all sorts of organic veggies. Right in the city! Amazing how things can change!
Anyway, so far we’ve already harvested more onions and potatoes than we can possibly use. We give a lot away.
The garden pictured above is at the early stages of producing the next round. We’re raising tomatoes, green peppers, eggplants, cucumbers, butternut squash. And of course, we planted a nice amount — fifty-five plants, to be exact — of black beans.
Maybe this fascination I have with growing stuff seems silly. But for me, every year it’s the same. I find it miraculous that you can start with a seed and a few months later end up with a salad, or a delicious bowl of mashed potatoes.
City boys may be street smart.
But we’re garden dumb.