Hearing all this, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sympathy for Donald. I'm a homeowner, too. Sure, my name isn't emblazoned across the front of my home in giant gold letters the way only an Egyptian Pharaoh could truly appreciate, but if there's one area Donny and I can see eye-to-eye on it's the struggles and anxieties of homeownership. If there were two, the second would be grabbing pussy.
In the past, I've detailed the waking nightmare of having to deal with a termite infestation. Homeownership dumps that headache, plus a garbage truck's worth of other responsibilities onto your lap, and that includes having to deal with the nasty recurring problem of illegal gambling rings run by notorious Russian mobsters nesting secretly in your home. They're such a nuisance.
Just a few months after moving in, my wife and I heard noises coming from somewhere within our home. We grabbed a couple of flashlights and gave the darkest nooks and crannies a thorough look-see. Lo and behold, in our utility closet was an illegal Russian gambling ring made up of around 30 men in track suits waving rubles around a roulette table they'd cleverly fashioned out of an unused decorative potpourri bowl and an ironing board.
We were shocked and more than a little grossed out, to say the least. Under the harsh light of discovery, the Russian mobsters scurried back into the shadows in different directions, rubles wafting out of their grip as they fled, spilt high-end vodka leaving pungent snail trails behind them. All that remained was a single decorative flower pot stone skipping along the numbers on the spinning potpourri bowl. It landed on black 13. There were no winners, but this was my house and the house always wins.
*Cool music blares and I strut through a casino looking like I get all the pussy.*
I'd love to bash Donald Trump for somehow having yet another disturbing connection to Russian criminality, but I can't. This problem is too relatable. No, we didn't have access to a SWAT team led by federal investigators armed with guns, batons, bulletproof vests, two years worth of intel, and a court order to get rid of our infestation but we made do with a can of Raid. That was a Band-Aid, of course, and it didn't get to the root of the problem. I was able to clear them out for good by poisoning their pierogis.
To prevent your home from being swarmed by Trump-level Russian illegal gambling ringleaders who couldn't be captured because they had already fled the US after being accused of trying to fix figure skating competitions during the 2002 winter Olympics, you have to know what to look for before they do too much damage to your property and/or image should you eventually become the leader of the most powerful nation in the world while also under federal investigation for colluding with the Russians to win a presidential election.
The heads of illegal Russian gambling rings who also happened to have walked the red carpet of events thrown by billionaires who later become presidents are attracted to obscene opulence like a moth to a flame. So making sure they never bother you to begin with is as simple as removing all gold-plating from your ottomans, toilet brushes, grand pianos, hair, and every other square inch of the home you told your interior decorator to "Smaug the fuck out."
He seems so down-to-earth, ya know?
I offer this advice freely to all, but especially to our president Donald Trump, as well as my heartfelt sympathies. No one should have to endure the pesky presence of an international illegal Russian gambling ring in their home, no matter if you own a two-bedroom apartment or a grotesque obelisk you've erected in your own honor in the heart of a city that absolutely despises you.
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