“Perfect,” said the T-Rump.
“I think it’s a winner,” said the Stephenmillerus with an extra devilish grin.
The two dinos were very pleased with their latest, greatest rallying cry for November’s Midterm Mayhem.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, the Cryingchuck shook his head and smirked.
“Jobs, Not Mobs? “That’s the best they can do?”
He was joined by his cousin’s daughter, the ever jovial Amyschumer.
“They left out angry and unhinged,” she said.
“That would be too many words for his deplorables to remember.”
“Well, you and the Nancypelosi did agree the Donkeykongrus would educate them.”
“Educate? All we need to do is wave shiny objects.”
“S-o-o-o-o,” she said. “You asked me here to help you with your own battle cry for the November trenches.”
“Yes, I was thinking we should try and build up the Langleyops reputation after the T-Rump has essentially destroyed it.”
“Sure. How about “Comey’s Our Homey.”
“Then there’s the Sessionsopossum, the Muellersavus and his Russodino investigation.”
“Obstruction is NOT a Virtue?”
“Or … who can forget the T-Rump ripping dino tots from the arms of their mamas at the Great Tex-Mex Divide?
“Um … Would You Let the T-Rump Baby-Sit Your Kids?”
“What about all the money the T-Rump has made from foreign dinos with his luxury caves?”
“The Oval Dwelling’s NOT for Sale!”
The Cryingchuck paused.
“We’re only just scratching the surface here, aren’t we? There’s the Rickyprisongates, the Manaforta and the Michaelcohen.”
The Amyschumer brightened.
“Support A T-Rump Flipper Today!”
“What about that Nooyorktimesian dinos and their 18-month investigative story on the T-Rump’s rise to fame and fortune?”
“Hmm … Daddy’s 400-Million Moolah-Moolah Bogus Bonus Baby?”
“Oh, he’s a baby, alright. I think I hear him crying right now. What about the Jamalkhashoggi incident?”
“B.M.S. – Mediacircustops = B.S.”
“We’re getting there. And the T-Rump’s not shedding his green skin, not sharing his mytaxes returnus?”
“Let’s see … We Showed Ours. Your Turn, T-Rump!”
“Uh, you realize he will take that the wrong way.”
The Amyschumer winked.
“Have we bottomed out on the T-Rump’s debauchery?
“Good point. Speaking of which … ”
“Way ahead of you, Uncle Chuckie. How’s this? Are You a Lady Dino, a Playmatapus or a Pornodactyl Who the T-Rump Has Paid to Shut Up? Me Too.”
“That line’s a little long.”
“Because that line is very long.”
“What about all his fake news rhetoric? There must be something.”
“All Conspiracy Theories Lead to the T-Rump.”
“You’re so quick, Amy.”
“Last dino standing, y’know.”
“Something that includes the Putinodon maybe?”
“I Left My Heart In Smelstinki.”
“And the T-Rump’s penchant for conveniently, uh … forgetting the truth?”
“5000 Lies. And He’s DOUBLING Down.”
“You’ve been a great help, Amy. It’s been a jaw-dropping 20 months.”
“But I’ve only just begun.”
“I see that. What I’m getting at here is that we need a well-thought out, serious, to-the-point slogan that will resonate with every decent dino with a lick of sense. Something every Donkeykongrus dino will want to be shouting from the mountaintops.”
“O-o-o-o-o-h. Well, why didn’t you say so?”
The Amyschumer and the Cryingchuck cocked their heads and sang out long and hard three words that would echo throughout the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir …
“DUMP THE T-RUMP!”
David Belisle 