Impaler

Me: Don’t poke that guy. He might poke you back, and you don’t want to be poked by Vlad the Impaler.
Thirteen-Year-Old: It’s okay. He’s dead.
Me: Again, with this guy, being dead—that may not stop him from coming after you.

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Fantasies

Me: Interestingly, a lot of the “Donald Trump” category at Archive of Our Own is not actually slashfic, but assassination fantasies.

Stuck

Me: Sixty million people voted for Trump. A few hundred per year can get their penises stuck in shop vacs.

Jewels

Me: I had a really bad dream last night. It was like Donald Trump was in The Silmarillion. Imagine if Trump were leading the armies in the War of the Jewels, instead of the sons of Fëanor. “We’re going to build a wall around Angband! And who’s going to pay for that wall? Morgoth!”

Stumbled

Me: Cthulhu for President: A mountain walked or stumbled.

Misbehavior

Me: Is Anthony Wiener‘s misbehavior actually the most brilliant viral marketing campaign of all time?

Wit

Me: In all three cases, once I knew that there were two opposing factions, I knew immediately what the primary bone of contention was. To wit: relations with the mainland, how into it the wife is allowed to be while it’s happening, and whether soap is ever appropriate.

Edgar

Me: Has anyone every seen dead J. Edgar Hoover and Bill Gates in the same place?

Political Party

Cousin [reading]: “I want to make pants illegal.” I’m in that political party. I hate pants.

Alternative

Me: Unfortunately, the ATM only dispenses Wal-Mart’s alternative currency.