WARNING! This article contains multiple uses of the word s**thole. Read at your own risk.
With the aid of a little-known scientific method, researchers have been able to identify and record conversations from the past, as far back in time as the 3rd century A.D. About this unprecedented development Dr. Emmett Brown, spokesperson for the group, said, “It’s just a matter of time before we’ll be able to capture ancient tête-à-têtes from even a million years ago. By then we’ll have the means to actually hear these dialogues. Eventually we’ll be able to recreate images from those same times. When we’ve accomplished that we’ll be able to answer some of humanity’s greatest mysteries, like whether or not the poster for the movie One Million Years B.C. contains a valid image of an early homo sapiens woman, or if Raquel Welch has the most remarkable line of genes known to man.”
One of the most notable recovered conversations so far is one between the Native American, Chief Powhaten, and his daughter, Pocahontas. The old chief thought he could overcome most of the obstacles that prevented the Algonquins from being able to co-exist with the Pilgrims. As a part of the deal Pocahontas married the immigrant, John Rolfe. There were eight years of peace. Then the Pilgrims started claiming the land as their own and the Native Americans sent them running with their tails between their legs.
As the ship exporting the last of the Pilgrims sailed out of sight, Pocahontas said to her father, “Pardon my French, Daddy, but I hope nobody from that shithole of a place called Europe ever comes here again.”
Chief Powhaten replied, “I agree, Pokes. We’ll let the Norwegians in, but as for the others…we’ll build a wall around our country if we have to.”
Throughout the sixteen and seventeen hundreds, people from all of the s**thole nations across the Atlantic immigrated to Columbus’ America. The great white European ancestors of most of us exploited the indigenous people of America and finally brought their s**thole armies with them – armies of rapists, thieves, and diseased. If that weren’t enough, they also brought in slaves from where else but the s**thole countries in Africa. They were up to no good. That’s the way people from s**thole countries are. I’m sure, though, that there were good people on both sides of the deal. Very good people.
Now we have a nation of the descendants of those s**thole people from s**thole countries. America has a s**thole President who does s**thole things. I guess that makes us – for the time being – a s**thole country, too. The irony about that is that “T for turd” rump’s mother and fraternal grandparents immigrated from Germany and Scotland to the U.S. T-rump is only two generations away from being an immigrant himself.
So our twitty President wants to restrict the immigration of people from s**thole countries like those in Africa (poverty stricken – probably of their own doing of course), the rapists from Mexico, and Haiti (they’ve all got AIDS you know). He wants more Norwegians. The problem with Norwegians, though, is that they’ll bring their accordions with them, hook up with the Scots and their bagpipes, and drive us all back into caves.
Lady Liberty holds up a torch that is intended to welcome refugees who are for the most part the tired, poor, homeless, and tempest tossed masses – the wretched refuse of s**thole countries. If T-rump’s American nightmare come to fruition we may as well turn out Lady Liberty’s light. The party’s over.
After Bill Clinton’s rendezvous with Monica Lewinsky, Rush Limbaugh was fond of calling the Oval Office the Oral Orifice. Now the focus is on another orifice – one that stinks to high heaven. Will somebody please call the Surgeon General? There’s a major infection in the White House that’s hemorrhaging pus and the only thing that will cure it is a hemorrhoidectomy.
Every year the Oxford Dictionaries choose a Word of the Year. Last year it was feminism. If they were to choose the Word of the Year for 2018 right now I have little doubt that the word would be s**thole. And we have three more years in which to continue this trajectory. If I could choose the Word of the Year for 2018? Impeached.
And that’s the view from The Balcony. 
