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Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump speaks during a campaign stop April 4, 2016, in La Crosse, Wis. Wisconsin voters go to the polls for the state’s primary April 5, 2016.
Scott Olson/Getty Images
I have a confession: I’m the voter from hell.
I don’t care about politics and rarely even show up to the polls. When I do, my voting process is ignant: “Put me down for Hector Gonzalez or whoever else ain’t a white man, and gimme my ‘I voted’ sticker so I can bounce.” As a member of the gays, I even considered voting for a local politician because her name was Lesbia. No lie—her mom really thought that was a good look.
This year, my ignorance has peaked—not because of why I’m voting Clinton (she’s against bringing slavery back, right?) but because of why I’m not voting for Trump. Of course there’s the likelihood that if elected, he’ll promptly call a Middle Eastern dignitary a sand n–ga and get our entire country merked.
But my primary reason is more simple: He looks a s–tty mess.
This is the single most ignorant reason not to vote for someone. Or is it? I’ve got a few other petty, but completely legit reasons, not to vote Trump.
1. His hair is mentioned in Revelations: A caucus of NASA scientists, MIT scholars, mathematicians and civil engineers has convened annually to review what the s–t is on Donald Trump’s head. Sadly, they’ve gotten nowhere in determining why this man appears to have a cumulonimbus cloud settled around his temples. We are left only with endless questions: Is it an allergic reaction? Does it fly for free? Is it a personal cooling device? Is it a spirit guide or perhaps a guardian angel? Will it be his vice president? Is it a parasitic twin? Is it armed? Did his head not close at the top and it’s a protective covering? And perhaps most important of all, does it eat off the kids menu at IHOP? #CarAintGotNoRoof game proper.
2. His wife is an alien: Recently, Trump suggested that based on looks, his wife is the best choice of first lady. Well if by “first lady” you mean “alien overlord,” I concur. Look, I’ve watched the Area 51 documentaries and seen the sketches—I’m 99.9 percent certain she landed in Roswell. With those tight-cinched puma eyes—how are we gonna have a first lady with no peripheral vision? Terrorists will sneak up on her and get all the secrets. Be slam-reading right over her shoulder. And just how much will taxpayers have to spend for environmental remediation when she dies? We can’t just be putting all of those chemicals and preservatives into the ground. We’re about to put a gotdamned Klingon in the White House and nobody’s bothered? S–t, it’s like Independence Day didn’t even happen.
3. His body ain’t right: Trump is shaped like a cinder block and something about his midsection is off. Has anyone ever seen him at the beach? Real talk, he might be a robot. That might be Pinky and the Brain in a man suit. What the hell is under that shirt? I’ll tell you what—helium. Yep. He’s an inflatable. How are we gonna send him on international business? Everyone’s gonna take their shoes off and jump on him. That or poke his ass with a needle. He doesn’t belong in the White House. He belongs at lil Twan’s birthday party.
4. His face is not of de lawd: I really shouldn’t rag on his X-Files-lookin’ wife. Because anybody who can look at that duck-billed platypus and have actual human sex with him is a thug. Straight gangsta. Lord knows, I’m scared he’s gonna put his face on our money and trigger a global depression. Won’t nobody want any money. They’ll be like, “You know what, just pay me in bitcoins. Write me a check for da blood.” Wait, maybe that sly bastard has a plan—he’ll put himself on all the small bills so other countries won’t want their change back and we can build our own reserves! All I know is, as a real estate developer, he should know when it’s time to cut your losses and junk a place. And that scenario he’s calling a face should’ve been boarded up in the ’80s. Or at least subjected to extensive renovations in the form of lip unpuckering and jowl reduction.
And why the hell is he orange?!
These may all seem like petty potshots and you know what? They are. Petty shots at a petty man. In between cackles, it is my sincere hope that you all have picked up the real message: This guy just ain’t the one. If you can’t be straight up about your views, your past or your hairline? You’re not fit for the White House. I’m just sayin’.
Dhiraj Naseen is a renowned ratchetologist, a celebrated advocate of foolishment and an aspiring spinster. Her hobbies include judging, not minding her business and yoga. Her spirit animal is an octopus, because she says so.
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