If I ever need a photograph to explain what “fugly” is to anyone, I will reference this photo.
New Trump accuser Karena Virginia claims Donald grabbed her breast, asking, "Don't you know who I am?"
I was expecting a mini giraffe:
Opulence. I has it.
I would like a mini-giraffe. But I’d rather have a pot-bellied elephant.
There’s a diff between opulence and ostentation, though.
I loved that the audience laughed out loud when he said “Nobody has more respect for women than I do!” They weren’t even miked but it was loud enough to be audible on TV.
No you wouldn’t.
I JUMP IN IT
Why do you have to ruin my dreams of an elephant that’s the size of a pig, “because it’s poop is small.”
Add “a plausible toupee” to that list, evidently.
“Don’t you know who I am?”
“Of course I do . . . you’re the creep who’s touching my boob.”
"There are probably more."
Sex offenders do tend to repeat as long as they get away with it. Men with the kind of privilege tRump has get away with it.
Yes. You’re Breasty McBreastgrab.
In Classical sculpture, small penes were considered a sign of wisdom and self control, so he should have a yuuuuuge one
DO… you know WHO… I am?
And the guy with the big feather fan standing in the background.
Except for depictions of Priapus.
“Attention everyone: this gentleman is elderly and confused. He doesn’t know who he is. Can anyone tell him who he is?”