God and Santa Claus Trump Trump

Uh-oh! God the Father’s done wigged out. Santa’s just reported that the entire tone and texture of Earth has darkened, in the USA especially, on his Christmas rounds this year.

It seems a would-be tyrant is gearing up to tyrannize. America’s democratic republic teeters on its last legs, this mockery of a man having rent its fabric, perhaps irreparably, in the weeks since his highly suspect election.

Checks and balances? Out the window. Sexists, racists, anti-Semites, science deniers, homophobes, fake Christians, and bigots of every stripe feel emboldened to publicly trot out the cockroach natures they’ve hitherto hidden.

When the sanity God and Saint Nick wait for refuses to materialize, it’s up to them to visit this godforsaken fucker moments after his super-weird inauguration and, in the infinite space afforded them by magic time, repair his wounded psyche.

Although it’s a psyche as warped and mangled as any God Almighty has ever seen, he has a plan. He has several plans. But one by one, they fall through.

Holy Hannah! Will God and Saint Nick succeed in threading their way through this perverse morass of Trumpian motherfuckery? Or are they . . . well, you know . . . DOOMED TO FAIL?

Hold onto your hats, boys and girls. You’re in for a wild ride!