I think it is safe to say that the Internet’s Band of Incorrigible Spitballers has probably known that Prznint Stupid was a dumb, lying, racist, bigoted, thieving grifter since our golden youth reading the late and lamentably gone Spy Magazine.
We probably knew that this day was coming the moment the Mango-Hued Shitgibbon put his hand on the Bible (for the first time ever, probably) and took the oath of office. We knew because there is no one he loves more than himself, and there is nothing he loves more than money. It’s simple, really.
If Comrade Trump didn’t exist, some failed writer of fiction would have to create him, just as a metaphor for our times: a billionaire buffoon decides to run for office as a grift to get back a reality teevee show, and he inexplicably convinces morons and the weak-brained that a NYC monster cared about THEM and would kick out the swarthy immigrants and make Possum Hollar White Again, and that he would run the gubmint as a bidness (of which he has almost nothing but failures and bankruptcies). Once in the White House he essentially raids the treasury, installs his grasping Veruca Salt-like daughter and her C- husband into positions of power (because unbelievably they were the BEST of the lot), and drags his reluctant, vulpine, soft-core third wife (who probably was an illegal immigrant) into the act (The Aristocrats!), and shows the world the depravity of one of our two political parties who can find nothing wrong with any crime he commits, in public, and on record.
But no one did write this fiction, it is our reality, and we, Dear Readers, saw it all coming. We knew it from the start, before the start even. We knew it in the ’90s. We knew then that Donald J. Trump was and would always be a short-fingered vulgarian.