Raw Story’s David Edwards has a great little post up highlighting one Trump supporter’s unique explanation of why he supports that terrible, terrible man.
Ernie Boch Jr., billionaire CEO of Subaru New England, offered his take on Trump in an appearance on CNN earlier today. Taking a look at him, you might assume that he’s supporting Trump out of a feeling of solidarity for a fellow billionaire with bad hair.
Nah. He has a somewhat different, if no less silly, explanation.
You’ve got to think of it like this, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning and there’s a few girls at the bar, you have to go home with one of them. So, you have to pick who you are with. And I think that Mr. Trump is the best qualified.
That’s right. Trump is the political equivalent of the drunk gal you approach at a bar two minutes before closing time. Trump is Ms. Right Now.
When CNN’s Chris Cuomo asked him to explain this rather unique take on Trump, Boch insisted that
If you’re single you understand this. You know, it’s the end of the night, you want to go home with somebody. You know, the bar is about to close. You have to pick somebody! You have to pick somebody!
Here’s the whole interview:
Huh. I guess Trump gets the supporters he deserves.
I … wow.
I really want to see Trump’s reaction to this description of him. I’ll need more popcorn first.
So what he’s saying is: “I’m only picking the candidate I would like to take home and fuck?”
Or is he saying: “I just decided on Trump because reasons that make sense only to me.”
Yuck.
Why do you have to pick somebody at the bar at closing time? No shame to going home and having drunk sex with Ms. Handy and Dildz, yanno?
That’s an awful lot of of words just to say “Oh, you know, he just seemed like the best candidate to me.”
He’s right about one thing: Any woman who goes home with him is definitely drunk.
There are so many better, less cliche and less gross metaphors for “best of a bad lot” that his choice is probably pretty telling.
There ain’t a pair of beer goggles foggy enough to take the fugly out of that.
Once again, women are metaphorical meat.
I guess he’d never speculate on how maybe HE, too, is the type of guy women just go home with out of desperation? Perish the thought.
There’s nothing like men who in no way resemble models complaining about having to settle for women who don’t look like models.
“You know how you long for genuine love and affection but the closest you ever get is a drunken willingness to temporarily tolerate you for your body?”
There’s a word for that, Ernie Boch Jr., it’s called rape.
Wow. What a resounding endorsement for Trump.
/sarcasm
Never knew it was compulsory to go home with someone at the end of the night.
I think we should all come up with our own night-out related metaphors.
Donald Trump is like that moment when you’re laughing at a funny night out but then you have one drink too many and vomit. A moment ago was hilarious despite being ill-advised, but now you feel sick and wish you could undo the whole thing.
ETA: Hope that makes sense, I had a general anaesthetic today and am also a bit “floaty” from the opiate based painkillers they gave me.
Donald Trump is like when it’s super late and you make some really goofy suggestion, like “Global warming is caused by daylight savings time! All that extra daylight is warming up the earth!”, and then your friends not only think you’re serious, but they agree with you.
“He’s not Ted Cruz” would have been a much, much more eloquent and compelling response.
So…. why doesn’t he pick a democrat?
Oh, right. Because one is a socialist and the other is a woman and I assume this guy is a Republican and they hate both of those types. :U
Actually… No, you don’t have to pick anyone. Voting is not mandatory in the US. Simply go home and masturbate instead of picking a woman/president who is not in conditions to consent/govern a country.
Voting for Donald Trump is like when you go with a guy you met in a bar to play cards at his house and when you get there, there is a giant, and I do mean giant swastika flag on the wall and he and his roommates start playing hate rock and you wonder if you’re going to be murdered for having Barrack Obama and Keith Ellison campaign buttons on your purse.
Yes. This actually happened to me.
Voting for Donald Trump is like waking up and remembering that you made out with the guitarist in the crappy cover band at the dive bar you were drinking tequila sunrises in the night before. And you can’t find your shoes.
So when he wakes up in the morning and sees the election results, is he going to be like, “Oh man, what did I do last night?” and is Trump going come in from the other room wearing his shirt be like, “Morning lover, I hope you’re hungry, I made scrambled eggs and toast” ?
Voting for Donald Trump is like being at a bar at closing time and… never mind, I’m opting for a life of celibacy and sobriety.
Ernie Boch Jr. is a musician who inherited the family car megabusiness. He’s seriously one of the biggest car dealers in the area, but he would clearly rather be playing with his band than actually selling cars — I mean, he can afford to have people run the business for him. The fact that he’s supporting Trump mostly makes him look like an airhead. (Then again, I think a lot of people think that about him around here anyway.)
His dad plastered most of route 1 in Norwood (a town south of Boston) with car dealerships after most of them moved out of what is now the Boston University campus on Commonwealth Ave in Boston. I strongly suspect Ernie Jr’s knowledge of cars amounts to whatever the current models are and how to read a P&L statement; I’d be shocked if he actually understood more than the very basics of the business.
“You have to pick somebody.”
No, dude, you really, really don’t have to.
Voting Republican would be like going to a bar for a night out but all the drinks are spiked with urine, rabid wolverine blood, smallpox mucus and rohypnol, in varying quantities.
You have to guess which drink is going to be least risky, but the bar staff won’t tell you, the bouncers are surly and threatening, everyone is armed and the music is all supplied by those children who did the Trump dance routine.
It’s deafeningly loud, but doesn’t quite drown out the cries of someone being beaten up in the stairwell.
The fire exits are welded shut, and you aren’t allowed to leave. People keep prodding you in the kidneys with nightsticks and telling you to smile.