121 Comments
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Joe Bacon's avatar

Just waiting for that gold paint to start peeling off and see who Trump will blame when that happens...

Carol Lama's avatar

Hope it doesn't peel off the gold ass statue. One moon in the sky is enough....

Elisabeth Birker's avatar

😂😂

Freddie Baudat's avatar

Oh my. Very good! 👍 😂

Gwendolyn McEwen's avatar

Keep a supply of Depends ready!

Linda Weide's avatar

"The ass that shit the golden poop," is the new name for the person in the oval office.

Robert Burns's avatar

Please. Not plain Depends. Gold embossed Depends.

Maria Jette's avatar

If only it were mere paint! It’s actual 23.75K gold, applied EXTRA THICK so it would cost even more—currently $5M. I love gold myself, but it looks weirdly stupid on those enormous statues, which looked beautiful in their weathered bronze before Mr. Tasteful decided sprucing them up was more important than healthcare or food for poor Americans.

Given how much gold has gone up in the last couple of years, it’s hard to imagine that there won’t be attempts to scrape off some of the extra-thick, practically pure gold. I wonder if they’ll have to have 24 hr security on them…

Joseph Jacobs's avatar

Remember when the Republican Party was the Party of Fiscal Conservatism? They have eroded away to a sad-but-still-powerful joke.

Freddie Baudat's avatar

Another no-bid contract, no doubt.

Phil's avatar

Oh yea? Damned expensive, pigeon poop roost.

Roger Fradenburgh's avatar

Ha! Beat me to it! I can't imagine how much Trump's no-bid contractor is charging us for each can of Krylon spray enamel. AND,... I'd put money on finding, "For Indoor Use Only" printed on the labels.

Deborah Kadin's avatar

Perfect…but will there be enough gilt to cover that monstrosity?

David Gardiner's avatar

The apex and circumference of gilded guilt.

Phil's avatar

No worry. The pigeons have it covered.

Joseph Jacobs's avatar

That Reply is excellent!

Leslie A Stensen's avatar

cremate him then rescue the gold from the fire place!!!

z (Archived) Gary Bradley's avatar

Still, old saying: you cannot gild a turd.

Joseph Jacobs's avatar

"You can't polish a turd... but you can roll it in glitter."

True then, and true today.

Kathryn Pierce's avatar

Great idea! We can paint him with gilt and then put him in a courtroom. Oh, wait - I meant guilt. Blasted autocorrect.

Anathema Addams's avatar

Is autocorrect developing sentience? That's a particularly apt play on words.

Linda MacDonald's avatar

You certainly have the correct angle on the situation Ann!😂😂😂

Nan Reiner's avatar

The trashification of once-fair D.C.,

To “service” Dear Leader, is par for the course.

In praise of himself, the next statue must be

The southernmost end of a north-facing horse.

Patrick Hughes's avatar

No amount of gold will ever make this excuse for a human glitter.

John M Dooley's avatar

Friendly amendment: "Cold Ass". And permit me to share a reprise of

Ozymandias

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Libby S. Harwitz's avatar

Our country’s sadly realized the dire predictions of P.B. Shelley’s brilliant poem..

Didrik's avatar
18hEdited

Among my favorites because it's so appropriate to Trump, and then I see Stephen Miller "...whose frown and wrinkled lip, And sneer of cold command," grace the lone and level sands stretching far away. All together, it's masterful imagery, that should remind Trump that this, too, shall pass. The question is, will it take Democracy with it?

Dave Parker's avatar

My favorite poem about narcissists.

Sharon Herrick's avatar

So how about Carl Sanburg's Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind:

The woman named Tomorrow

sits with a hairpin in her teeth

and takes her time

and does her hair the way she wants it

and fastens at last the last braid and coil

and puts the hairpin where it belongs

and turns and drawls: Well, what of it?

My grandmother, Yesterday, is gone.

What of it? Let the dead be dead.

2

The doors were cedar

and the panels strips of gold

and the girls were golden girls

and the panels read and the girls chanted:

We are the greatest city,

the greatest nation:

nothing like us ever was.

The doors are twisted on broken hinges.

Sheets of rain swish through on the wind

where the golden girls ran and the panels read:

We are the greatest city,

the greatest nation,

nothing like us ever was.

3

It has happened before.

Strong men put up a city and got

a nation together,

And paid singers to sing and women

to warble: We are the greatest city,

the greatest nation,

nothing like us ever was.

And while the singers sang

and the strong men listened

and paid the singers well

and felt good about it all,

there were rats and lizards who listened

… and the only listeners left now

… are … the rats … and the lizards.

And there are black crows

crying, "Caw, caw,"

bringing mud and sticks

building a nest

over the words carved

on the doors where the panels were cedar

and the strips on the panels were gold

and the golden girls came singing:

We are the greatest city,

the greatest nation:

nothing like us ever was.

The only singers now are crows crying, "Caw, caw,"

And the sheets of rain whine in the wind and doorways.

And the only listeners now are … the rats … and the lizards.

4

The feet of the rats

scribble on the door sills;

the hieroglyphs of the rat footprints

chatter the pedigrees of the rats

and babble of the blood

and gabble of the breed

of the grandfathers and the great-grandfathers

of the rats.

And the wind shifts

and the dust on a door sill shifts

and even the writing of the rat footprints

tells us nothing, nothing at all

about the greatest city, the greatest nation

where the strong men listened

and the women warbled: Nothing like us ever was.

Sharon Herrick's avatar

Sorry. It's Carl Sandburg, of course. Hate these typos.

Albert Studdard's avatar

We did not notice the typo, but did take notice of the poem. It was unknown to me. I appreciate your copying it to us. (A visit to his North

Carolina home, Connemara, encourages a further look into his work.)

Elise Feder's avatar

So, Gold Horses Ass

Evelyn Scolman Lemoine's avatar

You made me laugh out loud! Good one, Ann!!!

Jim Leach's avatar

He’s statuesque, all right.

Carol Lama's avatar

Anne, maybe the"Gold Ass" should become an annual award like a Nobel prize for the hugely ignorant and tasteless.

susan gentleman's avatar

Another one I'd like to give 100 likes to!

debbie's avatar

Instant LOL moment. Thank you

Sarah's avatar

Thanks for the funny not funny depiction of our Jackass in chief. The man is fking insane, there is no other way to look at his incessant need to pee in every corner of D.C.

Didrik's avatar

Yes, but even so, unlike a cat or dog, he can't remember where he's been.

Veronika Grimm-Matthews's avatar

Ann Telnaes, I love you!!!

You do the most perfect comment on our madhouse in just a few lines!

You are great!