Insight into the Trump voter mindset.

[floridafan]

1. A poor person has never given me a job. Giving tax breaks to employers benefits many besides the employer. Furthermore, if you confiscated every dime from duh rich, it would run the Federal gubmint for about nine days. I would rather see a company get to keep more of their OWN money than handing out checks to lazy fucks, who contribute nothing to society, to sit on their sofas. I don't want a handout.

And "a political system which takes away your ability of choice with personal decisions in life that involves only your body?" I present the jab or job mandates. I'll just leave it at that.

2. We are all dealt a set of cards and have to play them to the best of our abilities. Life isn't fair, that is just how it is. I don't begrudge anyone who was born into wealth.

Therefore, your proclamation of "voting against your best interest" is purely subjective as I see it completely opposite from you. Voting Democrat is the pinnacle of voting against your own self interests and I will add -- freedom.

History has proven time and again that tax breaks for corporations do not create any jobs, but they do increase executive bonuses and stock buybacks. It time to end your BS.

[NiftyNiblick]

Life is Golden, with every post, makes a better case for Liz Warren's wealth tax.

The poster "serenity" has taught me how to speak with the logic of a right-wing lunatic which aids communication.

I will give an example:


Given flugelhorn with the yes stirrups in general supposition, fragrances gallop metaphysically in pool dimensions.

Are mufflers enduring maroon concepts through fear or lust?

Bigsby tailpiece through the frozen atoms as gullible manifestations appear above the clitoris of life.

Louisville ash climbs kiosk amid furls of indigenous crayons garnering webs through metastasis and fingers, but why?

Are we ice cream gliders smoking on the grassy knoll? Within what sauce, and who is to frolic? Inflated OPS arises on the gums,
but is it spearmint or is it Asper? Profundities seed gumbo, and post years moss the grain, first then, and then now.

Yellow vibes flourish on conservative dimensions, but only as the mosquito assesses its prospects for cunnilingus over the gills.
Tuned port injection feels the necessity of syrup, even as the marigolds are flossed with steam and hunger. Shall we flee or shall we mammal? Does it grow either flop?

In the girth, we finally oasis the beginning and the kink explodes into rational paving stones. Likeness abounds as do many ferns, and the lamp oil tells tale of inner tubes and scabs.
Yet through it, the flamingo washes her many novels and the bliss turnbuckles black fonts of gloom.

Lest I demur, the above scallops the frog of St. Blitzen tomorrow and purple as well.
First came the sawdust of discovery from which the kindling and the anchovies emerged as molten grapes. Are memories merely the hinge of vestiges from where the foster care emerges as tumultuous pudding?
Trout and carriage bolts visit the frankness of obscenity, but even so, the tits of claustrophobia nurse the merits of Bohemian rivets.

Deny spackle if you will, my queen of trollops, but then know that jaundice travels like the blue light of suspicion over damp socks.
What patriotism approaches escarole when the normal wrinkles blend? We must ponder the resultant laces. We must strangle the presiding frame of Rubbermaid.

Wretched investigation of the Cracker Barrel rocker on the porch of Rasmus, he of flannel and calamine lotion arising over fermentation, can result only in fragments of wax.

Flash her closed but shallow numeral, but only as the precinct observes its Ramadan of urgency and flatulence.

Cracks abound on the surface of instinct, and wounds reopen with the grace of a well struck cleek. Veils over the many faces of urethane, once balata but never again, project the
solitude of great mackerel and their brethren from the Alamo. Who is to deny the rabbits of hemlock? College ruled pages ripped from the journals of aardvarks languish over the undercooked ribs
from the great vacuum of irritability cover the fingers of unloved infants--perhaps the ultimate proof of God's intolerance.

Cyber-horns blow the chorus of inverted mollusks, and the strings of past failures provide strident harmony against their own will. We see. We deny. We almost perish but don't quite regurgitate.

Here, victims of Creation, lie the great truths of the recycling generation. Here we experience the mashed, the French fried, and the baked of urgent penetration.
As crystal-encrusted currency surges toward orgasmic climax, yellow dots of optimism diminish--first gradually and then brown.
From these numerals arrive polyester, and follicles of complacency begin to close the books of the assailants. The chain-markers stretch,
but don't the arrows bend as well? Grey lines of appetite appear skittish, while even the sparrows acknowledge the absence of plastic and dust.

Here we have the elasticity of mahogany praising the punctuation, but not as the glow of twisted gelatin swears otherwise.
Onward, ceiling tiles of the cordless mouse! My mug salutes the furtive sighs of the sharpener incarnate.

[Street Glider]

It wasn’t as if Trump’s money was just dropped in his lap suddenly, like your buddy’s. He already had millions, a network set up by his daddy, connections, a cadre of lawyers, accountants, etc. All in place by daddy. Not merely a million or so dumped in an unprepared and unsupported guy who had no idea what wealth meant.

Trump was and is a poor businessman. A con man. A user. A liar. Your pal was a poor, unprepared schlep.

So, he had millions, he now has billions, and he's a poor businessman.

Got it...

[Street Glider]

First off, your life story instances seem to change to suit whatever right wing wonk narrative your spewing.

Nonsense.

I would love to see you demonstrate how it has...

Here's the glaring flaw in your attempt at a comparative tale: Your subject WAS NOT BORN INTO WEALTH AND PRIVILEGE. He was NOT ADDITIONALLY GIVEN MILLIONS and inherit a list of high end business connections, along with high end banks willing to gamble large loans on his project. Also, he would ADDITIONALLY INHERIT all business and properties owned by dear old dad. You may want to educate yourself as regarding Dump's relationship with Deutsche Bank in his early days.

So yeah, your last sentence is basic moot points and a BS conclusion.

The assertion was made that he was a poor businessman.

He started with millions. He now has billions. Sorry, but that's just not the mark of a bad businessman. If not "good", certainly shrewd. Perhaps unethical. But the guy knows how to make a buck, and it's just silly to pretend that he doesn't...

[Street Glider]

So yeah, your last sentence is basic moot points and a BS conclusion.

It's really not.

Have you ever had money? I've had money and I've been poor (thankfully the former, currently). I worked my ass off for what I have because, and I work my ass off to make sure I maintain it. If I didn't, it's unlikely I would still have it...

[Blackwater Lunchbreak]

Nonsense.

I would love to see you demonstrate how it has...




The assertion was made that he was a poor businessman.

He started with millions. He now has billions. Sorry, but that's just not the mark of a good businessman. If not "good", certainly shrewd. Perhaps unethical. But the guy knows how to make a buck, and it's just silly to pretend that he doesn't...

these criminals only respect corruption.

the pelosis with their fascistic insider trading are who they respect.

[domer76]

So, he had millions, he now has billions, and he's a poor businessman.

Got it...

He says he has billions.

And he just didn’t get “millions”. It was hundreds of millions and everything in place set up for him.

He’s fucked over thousands of people through his scams, bankruptcies and failure to pay his bills. He could no longer get creditors here, so he had to go elsewhere.

He’s as bad a businessman as he was President. And that’s a very low bar

[Street Glider]

He says he has billions.

And he just didn’t get “millions”. It was hundreds of millions and everything in place set up for him.

He’s fucked over thousands of people through his scams, bankruptcies and failure to pay his bills. He could no longer get creditors here, so he had to go elsewhere.

He’s as bad a businessman as he was President. And that’s a very low bar

He was actually a very good President who, sadly, was remarkably unpresidential in his demeanor and his conduct...

[ThatOwlWoman]

Life is Golden, with every post, makes a better case for Liz Warren's wealth tax.

The poster "serenity" has taught me how to speak with the logic of a right-wing lunatic which aids communication.

I will give an example:


Given flugelhorn with the yes stirrups in general supposition, fragrances gallop metaphysically in pool dimensions.

Are mufflers enduring maroon concepts through fear or lust?

Bigsby tailpiece through the frozen atoms as gullible manifestations appear above the clitoris of life.

Louisville ash climbs kiosk amid furls of indigenous crayons garnering webs through metastasis and fingers, but why?

Are we ice cream gliders smoking on the grassy knoll? Within what sauce, and who is to frolic? Inflated OPS arises on the gums,
but is it spearmint or is it Asper? Profundities seed gumbo, and post years moss the grain, first then, and then now.

Yellow vibes flourish on conservative dimensions, but only as the mosquito assesses its prospects for cunnilingus over the gills.
Tuned port injection feels the necessity of syrup, even as the marigolds are flossed with steam and hunger. Shall we flee or shall we mammal? Does it grow either flop?

In the girth, we finally oasis the beginning and the kink explodes into rational paving stones. Likeness abounds as do many ferns, and the lamp oil tells tale of inner tubes and scabs.
Yet through it, the flamingo washes her many novels and the bliss turnbuckles black fonts of gloom.

Lest I demur, the above scallops the frog of St. Blitzen tomorrow and purple as well.
First came the sawdust of discovery from which the kindling and the anchovies emerged as molten grapes. Are memories merely the hinge of vestiges from where the foster care emerges as tumultuous pudding?
Trout and carriage bolts visit the frankness of obscenity, but even so, the tits of claustrophobia nurse the merits of Bohemian rivets.

Deny spackle if you will, my queen of trollops, but then know that jaundice travels like the blue light of suspicion over damp socks.
What patriotism approaches escarole when the normal wrinkles blend? We must ponder the resultant laces. We must strangle the presiding frame of Rubbermaid.

Wretched investigation of the Cracker Barrel rocker on the porch of Rasmus, he of flannel and calamine lotion arising over fermentation, can result only in fragments of wax.

Flash her closed but shallow numeral, but only as the precinct observes its Ramadan of urgency and flatulence.

Cracks abound on the surface of instinct, and wounds reopen with the grace of a well struck cleek. Veils over the many faces of urethane, once balata but never again, project the
solitude of great mackerel and their brethren from the Alamo. Who is to deny the rabbits of hemlock? College ruled pages ripped from the journals of aardvarks languish over the undercooked ribs
from the great vacuum of irritability cover the fingers of unloved infants--perhaps the ultimate proof of God's intolerance.

Cyber-horns blow the chorus of inverted mollusks, and the strings of past failures provide strident harmony against their own will. We see. We deny. We almost perish but don't quite regurgitate.

Here, victims of Creation, lie the great truths of the recycling generation. Here we experience the mashed, the French fried, and the baked of urgent penetration.
As crystal-encrusted currency surges toward orgasmic climax, yellow dots of optimism diminish--first gradually and then brown.
From these numerals arrive polyester, and follicles of complacency begin to close the books of the assailants. The chain-markers stretch,
but don't the arrows bend as well? Grey lines of appetite appear skittish, while even the sparrows acknowledge the absence of plastic and dust.

Here we have the elasticity of mahogany praising the punctuation, but not as the glow of twisted gelatin swears otherwise.
Onward, ceiling tiles of the cordless mouse! My mug salutes the furtive sighs of the sharpener incarnate.

This makes far more sense than the spewings of Reichtards like Minty and friends. Plus it's far more poetical. lol

[ThatOwlWoman]

He was actually a very good President who, sadly, was remarkably unpresidential...

It seems that the standards in your homeland, Lesser Krapuskistan, are far lower for leadership qualities than they are in America.

[domer76]

He was actually a very good President who, sadly, was remarkably unpresidential in his demeanor and his conduct...

That’s why a recent survey of historians ranks him 43/45 Presidents. Johnson and Buchanan edged him out for last place.

[BartenderElite]

He was actually a very good President who, sadly, was remarkably unpresidential in his demeanor and his conduct...

How do you define "very good President?"

He had one major crisis, which he handled terribly. He was statistically the worst jobs President in modern history. He divided this nation with gusto, delighting in pitting groups against one another for his own personal gain. Our discourse is worse because of Trump. He admired and catered to the world's worst dictators, and scoffed at some of or democratic allies. His last act was trying to overturn a legitimate election, and inciting a riot at the Capitol.

To me, he was one of the worst Presidents we've had, if not the worst.

[Street Glider]

It seems that the standards in your homeland, Lesser Krapuskistan, are far lower for leadership qualities than they are in America.

Record low unemployment across all demographics, the destruction of ISIS, sub $2 gasoline, low inflation.

Yeah, who would want any of that?

[Street Glider]

That’s why a recent survey of historians ranks him 43/45 Presidents. Johnson and Buchanan edged him out for last place.

Wow, sure, yeah... that's convincing...

[Street Glider]

How do you define "very good President?"

He had one major crisis, which he handled terribly. He was statistically the worst jobs President in modern history. He divided this nation with gusto, delighting in pitting groups against one another for his own personal gain. Our discourse is worse because of Trump. He admired and catered to the world's worst dictators, and scoffed at some of or democratic allies. His last act was trying to overturn a legitimate election, and inciting a riot at the Capitol.

To me, he was one of the worst Presidents we've had, if not the worst.

I've already addressed this in another post...