What!? Pneumonia!? I Don’t Have No Stinking Pneumonia! Where’d You Ever Hear a Thing Like That!?

Just so you know …

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I don’t know what’s going on with this doctor and that sick guy, but it’s definitely not me. I’m as healthy as a race horse.

… I don’t use napkins when I eat. Instead, I drape a dishtowel over my shoulder and anytime I’m eating something runny—e.g., soup, chili, anything oozing with an over-abundance of condiments—I pull it across my chest like a bib.

Oh, you should also know that I carry reinforced paper towels around with me for nose-blowing. As I do a lot of nose-blowing, regular tissues simply don’t cut it.

Have I already told you about my skin tags? Yeah, ugly little bastards run in the family.

And I clean my ears with twisted-up Kleenex strips. Yes, I know we’re not supposed to do that, but I do it anyway, okay?

Oh dear. Pardon me for my lack of transparency. It was inaccurate to tell you I use Kleenex. The truth is, we buy some sort of cut-rate tissues whose brand name I can’t even remember.  Same with toilet paper. It’s to make our money stretch, you understand. (If you insist on seeing our tax returns before you will believe we need to use our money wisely by not purchasing the big brands like Kleenex … or Charmin Ultra-Soft for that matter … I’ll be happy to provide them.)

And hey, before anyone starts questioning why I do so much nose-blowing, it’s nothing serious. I simply have active snot glands. Always have had. Runs in the family.  Were you to choose me to be your President, I assure you my nose-blowing would in no way interfere with my ability to lead.

One last thing you should know: Since yesterday, I have been battling a minor bout of constipation. But it isn’t—I repeat … is not—of the opioid variety. It’s just regular old, off-the-shelf constipation. My guess is, it’s the cheese.

There. I think you know everything about me that you need to know. Now you can judge for yourself, loaded as you are with all of my most intimate details. So, are you ready to elect me President of the United States, or not?

WHAT!? You still don’t think I would be a good President!? I told you about my constipation, for God’s Sake! I told you about my fucking skin tags!

And you STILL don’t think I would make a good President!?

What do I have to do? … tell you about the pneumonia, too?

Oh damn! Forget I said that. Pneumonia? Heck no, I don’t have no pneumonia. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. Jesus, I can hear it now. Limbaugh, Alex Jones that asshole freak, the Brietbart and Drudge cruds, my opponent … the whole slimy, deplorable crew …

Get this, ladies and gentlemen. Cope made the claim this morning … and he did it as soon as he walked out of the doctor’s office, which should tell you all you need to know … that he has been diagnosed with a case of pneumonia. PNEUMONIA! Can you believe it?!  Suuuuuuure. Just like when he managed to put off appearing before the Congressional investigators that time because he said he fell down and bonked his poor widdle head. Face it, folks. Ol’ Lyin’ Bill has a long history of coming up with some ailment any time he needs a boost in the public’s opinion. Don’t believe it for a second. This is nothing more than a crooked liar trying to get your sympathy. You watch, next he’ll be pretending to lose his balance at some public event he shows up at. Then he’ll be making a BIG DRAMA out of his aides helping him into the car. Pathetic. Just pathetic. Has he no sense of PRIVACY!?

Well the hell with that! I’ve had these pricks mocking every damn thing I do, every damn thing I say, every damn way I look, every damn piece of clothing I wear, every damn move I make, for the last 25 year. From now on, I not giving them anymore than they need to know. My tax returns. My charitable donations. My health records. My policy plans for the economy and ISIS and NATO and the Supreme Court and immigration and reforming the justice system and bringing jobs back to America and health care … yeah, I’ll tell them about all that.

But as to the pneumonia? … screw ’em! I’ll be over it before they ever know I had it, the ugly little bastards.

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See? I’m fine.I think I look pretty darn fit, if you ask me. All healthy and shit.
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