Okay, just because the American Psychiatric Association doesn’t want their members to publicize ‘armchair’ diagnoses of the Presidential candidates – meaning Donald Trump, of course – doesn’t mean that we non-psychiatrists can’t do it. And, although “Looney-Toons” isn’t the most clinically accurate ‘armchair’ diagnosis, it at least allows for a little humor to start the week.
Herr Trump seems to have been given a lot more unearned medals than just that poor guy’s Purple Heart.
Herr Trump can’t even rule his own hair.
“Hmm..”Victory Thru Herr Hair Hare Power”!?”
“Look at this – my hair’s a mess! Can’t anyone help me?”
“Can’t you see you’re next?”
“Okay, why not?”
“I’m not sure what’s in this, but if it dissolved that thing on his head, that’s a step in the right direction.”
“Flowers?! Are you kidding? I can’t even comb them over!”
Although it could have been worse, i.e.:
...The blow to his vanity was just too much, pushing him over the edge. His self-image as “Donald J. Trump, Billionaire” was destroyed.
He began to dress in a bunny suit, repeating over and over, “My name is Elmer J. Fudd, Millionaire. I own a mansion and a yacht.”
Longtime friend and co-worker Daffy Duck describes a recent visit:
He “may be crazy, but” he’s not going to the White House!
This is our daily Open Thread. Please feel free to discuss anything you like – or dislike.
