Hey, I’m the Victim Here


October 13, 2016

Okay, it’s time to address the elephant penis in the room. One after another, women are coming out to accuse Baby DonDon of being a groper. As that piece of ass Ivanka said, I am not a groper. I am the gropee.

For decades women have put their hands all over me—they’re like octopuses, or octopussies as I like to call them—because of how I smell. What does Baby DonDon smell like? I smell like the private room at Harry Winston.

Besides being vehicles for mammary display, women love jewelry. It’s all about the bling. It’s a bling thing.

THAT’S why they unzip my fly and immediately grab my nutsack. They want tennis bracelets.

Instead of being an example of toxic masculinity or male privilege, I am the victim here. I want to keep my genitals to myself, but women won’t let me.

Did you see yesterday I said my new TV network would be called Don’t Think Twice It’s Alt-Right? And today Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature? Did I call that Nobel Prize or what? Which makes me wonder: Is there a Nobel Prize for Groping?

On the really bad news front, Melania has me sleeping on an air mattress on the roof again. She’s such a skeptic, such a counterpuncher.

The following two tabs change content below.
Andrew Feinberg is the author of Four Score and Seven, a novel that imagines Abe Lincoln comes back to life for two weeks during the 2016 campaign and encounters a candidate who, some say, resembles Donald Trump. It is available on Amazon. He is the author or co-author of five non-fiction books. His political journalism and humor have appeared in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Playboy, GQ, Barron's and Kiplinger's Personal Finance.

Latest posts by Andrew Feinberg (see all)