Don’t you just know after about the 20th salute, Trump hated the thought of having to salute each West Point graduate? And only 1,087 to go.
The physical exercise of the salute was more strenuous than proudly signing his name on documents in the Oval Office. With a short attention span and more activity than he can muster, after the 20th salute, he may have been thinking, Where is Pence when I need him?
After the 60th salute, If I claim bone spurs in my elbow and quit, will anyone think me a sissy?
The West Point god replied You bet your nuts.
After the 200th graduate, he almost poked his eye out with his thumb, Son of a bitch!
Only 907 salutes to go. Double son-of-a-bitch!
While his struggle to properly salute was going on, under his buttoned jacket (on a sweltering day), Trump was also struggling to hold in his belly.
Why did I have those two hamburgers and a milkshake for breakfast? If I relax my stomach, my jacket will unbutton all by itself, and I'm on camera. Here comes another f--king salute. And she's in a skirt. Does she think she's going to wear a skirt when I send her to the Mexican border?
Trump’s commencement address lacked inspiration, but was more of a get even speech.
"And when we fight, from NOW on, we will only fight to win."
Didn’t you do the opposite when you sought refuge in the White House bunker? Why didn’t you stand your ground on the Truman Balcony waving your golf club?
Here comes salute number eight hundred and god damn ninety-seven. The belly's going. Hold it in. Hold it in! Naturally, I'm sweating like a fire hose. The hairspray is melting and running into my eyes. It looks as though I'm winking at the graduates. If they turn on the fans, my hair will take off. Jesus Christ, why did I insist on this graduation speech? Cuomo cursed me. I could have Zoomed it here from the air-conditioned Oval Office sitting down. Is it spelled h-e-r-e or h-e-a-r?
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