BILLINGSGATE POST: He has to be somewhere. Now we know. With most of the incoming news on Hunter Biden’s whereabouts coming from the New York Post, including lurid pictures of Hunter balancing two totally nekid hookers on his lower abdomen, each facing opposite directions, it was of paramount importance for his old man to ship him off to one of the most remote areas of the World, the Galápagos Islands.
The following report comes from roving BILLINGSGATE POST reporter, Elmer Smuckmeister.
“From my perch on Wolf Volcano, the highest peak on Isabella Island, I can watch the comings and goings of everything below. Many years ago, I chose to leave the hustle and bustle of Beaver Crossing, to harvest bat guano in the Galápagos Islands.”
“I virtually had the market to myself, until just lately. Some young whippersnapper, down the road from my cave, had bats working overtime. Hadn’t seen so many bats around since I visited the Hillerich & Bradsby plant in Louisville, Kentucky, back in 1972. Sumb*tch must have been feeding ‘em ex-lax - bat shit flying everywhere.”
“Went down the mountain to see the guy. He came outa his cave wearing a red flannel loin cloth and nothin’ else. I saw that he had turned a Giant Tortoise on its back. Asked him WTF he was doing.”
“He whispered in my ear: ‘Traction, Dude. Just wanted to see if it could gain traction while it was kicking its legs in the air.’”
“I recognized the guy immediately - big idiotic grin on his face - playing with a bandalore as he shuffled around petulantly, mumbling umbrageous mumbo-jumble; no doubt a dipsomaniac off his feed.”
“He introduced himself. ‘Hi, I’m Hunter. My Dad is President of the United States. Do you have any weed?’”
Dr. Slim: “What a remarkable story. Smuckmeister at his best.”
Dirty: “Yo, Dr. Dude. He’s a long way from Beaver Crossing.”