As Told to Stephen Miller, and Shared with President Trump's 86 Million Disciples via One Hundred and Fourteen Individual Tweets. Adapted and Interpreted by the Right Honorable Reverend Jerry Falwell Jr. (a distant acquaintance of the president, with whom he has had no contact in many years.
"These are Thy Commandments, Ten in Number, Given Thee by the Almighty Lord of Heaven and Earth, His Royal Highness, Field Marshal Doctor Donald John Trump, PhD, MD, JD, CPA, DDS, SOB (Sons of Billionaires), President-for-Life of the Divided States of America, Thy Beneficent Shepherd and Unrelenting Fleecer. Lone Guardian of the Galaxy, Grievous Avenger of Those Who Defyeth Him, and All Round Good Guy." So bespoke the All Powerful Prince Golden, showering his flocks with the blessings of merciful (albeit slightly salty) rain trickling down upon them. Attend thee not to these commandments at thine own risk, for behold, the Lord Trump is a Jealous Lord, and a Vengeful Foe to all Recalcitrant Rioters, Defacers of Public Property, and Disgruntled Malcontents in his sight. He seeth and heareth all (that happens on Fox News, that is) Thou wouldst do well to tread lightly in his Omnipresence! Thus Spake Trumpathustra:
I.
Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Presidents Before (or After) Me. I am the Alpha and Omega of the Oval Office.
For heedest thou the powerful words of the prophet, Doctor Ronny, who sayeth that
with a more wholesome diet, I might live to be two hundred years old. When he
spake these words, I rejoiced exceedingly, and immediately ordered two buckets
of KFC grilled chicken (instead of extra crispy) that afternoon. Then, I contacted
a friend of mine who works for the nonprofit charitable group, "Doctors Without
Scruples." He put me in touch with the CEO of the organization, a
well-respected physician, highly intelligent, a graduate of Harvard Medical
School (probably the most highly regarded medical school in the country). I
told him it was vital for the wellbeing of the nation (and the world) that I
live at least another two or three centuries. He assured me it was possible, provided I was willing to undergo a
series of what he called "Preemptive Rejuvenation Procedures." Apparently, it
involves the participation of a number of healthy young volunteers from shithole
countries around the world: China, Pakistan, India, Colombia, Angola, and a lot
of other places no one has ever heard of before. And I'm told they make a lot
of money for doing nothing but watching TV in a cushy hospital bed for a few
days, while they recuperate from the surgery. In fact, everybody says it's like
a vacation for these kids. Once they're rested, ICE agents dutifully return
them to their native lands (free of charge), where they are immediately
abducted, robbed, raped, disfigured, and forced into drug addiction and sex
slavery. It's a shame, really. I wish there was something more I could do"
II. Thou Shalt Not Make Unto Thee Any Graven Images. Statues, graven and ungraven, tend to make me look fat, which is why I call them "fake art." Contrariwise, two dimensional renderings seem better suited to capture my essence, whether it be my commanding physique, or the incomparable intellect emanating from behind my icy blue Scandinavian eyes, and beneath my meticulously sculpted waves of goldish hair (L'Oreal calls it "Oxidized Iron Pyrite," whatever that means). Bottom line? Statues bad, paintings good. And speaking of paintings, it just so happens that the (recently dissolved) Donald J. Trump Foundation (which has given away billions of dollars to worthy [albeit so far unidentified] causes) has recently unearthed a number of priceless portraits of His Eminence, Me. I might be persuaded to part with some of these historically significant masterpieces (for the right price, of course). To submit a bid on one or more of these magnificent treasures, please contact my son at donaldjtrumpthelesser@Qanontruth.org.
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