DAVID'S PLACE:

You may have seen ads on Fox sponsored by Mike Lindell, from Minnesota aka The Pillow Guy who is supposedly a reformed drug addict and now has become a very big businessman and supporter of Donald Trump.  Lindell got lucky by jumping on Trumps bandwagon in 2016 and supporting Trump as a great president. He spoke for Trump a few times. Trump loves the creep. Trump spoke about Lindell promoting a possible a cure for the Covid-19 virus with an untested, unscientifically proven plant extract called oleandrin.  Anderson Cooper from CNN interviewed and ripped Lindell apart calling him a snake oil salesman for pushing a useless and possibly harmful virus treatment product which may give suffering people false hope.  Trump endorsed it even though Lindell has a financial stake in it and will profit if it sells. Trump is once again using his office for improper purposes. He cannot use his power to promote commercial products. But, we know he does not care about what he does.   Lindell has paid a

Reporter:  Mr. Trump. Do you have a problem with assertive women?  Trump: That is a stupid question. You are a stupid reporter.   Reporter: That is a mean, nasty answer to my question. Trump: You deserve to be told how stupid you are. Reporter: No. You deserve to be told how stupid you are Trump. You have been called a fucking moron, an ignoramus, a jerk and many other nasty names by great people you have appointed to important positions. Trump: How dare you speak to the president like that. Reporter: You are a fake president. You are a total dunce and unfit for office. Trump: Security, take this person to jail. Reporter: For what? For telling you the truth? Trump: You are barred from ever coming to the White House again. Reporter: Go fuck yourself you orange headed evil monster.  You belong in jail.

He sat alone at the table built only for him. He is the man they call the monster. No one is allowed to get within six feet of him.  Inmates filled the air with vicious insults. They hate him.  The monster kept his face down and grabbed food with both hands, stuffing his mouth and gulping diet sodas. Oblivious.   Four men in suits guarded him. Always. He was served only junk food as he wished.  He ate and drank like a hungry animal. Eating was his only joy.  He did nothing else. No one was envious.  He had ruined America.

Exactly forty two more torturous minutes until he got satisfaction. He obsessively kept looking at the time on his little television screen.  Then, three Big Macs, four bags of burned French fries, and two extra large sodas, with three chunky chocolate chip cookies, would be arriving.  His small, smelly, solitary cell sat alone in a corner in the bowels of the prison. He could not be allowed nor did he want to be in the general population.  He was too hated for destroying the country. He would be easy, high value, desirable prey. Two different, muscular, serious men in suits would make each food delivery three times a day, everyday, without comment. The men would return exactly thirty minutes after each feeding to take away the always empty, sloppily, crunched up garbage.    The waiting was excruciating for the man they named the monster.  The monster nickname was an oxymoron.  The other prisoners knew him to be a physical coward from the few times he was tested when he first arrived.