Jake's pick-up truck was low on gas, as he made his daily pilgrimage down the Tennessee Highway from his small ranch home into the outskirts of Nashville. Since President Brandon took office, he'd struggled to keep his tank full, his lights on, and his mother's cholesterol medication paid for. But he was lucky to live in a state with good coal jobs, and he'd managed to save up enough during the fat years to coast for a bit.

As he approached the city, traffic grew worse. The urban decay of the once-beautiful city grew more apparent every year. Crime in Nashville had been on the rise, after the city's police chief was ousted by a radical new city council. Trash littered the side of the road and panhandlers clogged every crosswalk. The sounds of chanting drifted through Jake's window. Most likely, another BLM protest march. He sighed, patting the Colt .45 in the holster beside his cup holder, and turned down the radio so he could be more tactically aware of his surroundings. Hopefully, his foreman would understand why he was going to be late again.

A sudden motion at the corner of his eye broke his reverie. At first, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. A tiny compact car, one of those cheap foreign imports, had started honking frantically. From this distance, he could see a hand slapping at the windshield. Confusion gave way to horror, as Jake saw the cause of the commotion. Trapped in the dense traffic, the driver was being surrounded by a swarm of creatures pouring out of the woodlands abutting the edge of the highway. He could see them, honking and squealing, tearing into tire rubber and chrome and glass. Thirty to fifty wild hogs had invaded the freeway, and if he didn't act fast the streets of Nashville would be wet with the hot, red American blood.

"Fwuahhhh!" groaned Quaid as he released himself within Janet with his magnum dong for the third time that night. Quaid had just got off rotation from the border where he was responsible for sniping human traffickers and Hamas infiltrators trying to cross from darkest Mexico to the Holy Land of Texas or whatever.

"I love you Quaid" cooed Janet, nuzzling Quaid's sandpaper like, chiselled chin.

"Save it for our Lord and Saviour" said Quaid. "I'm about to redeploy, how about another round?"

"Quaid, I'm pregnant!" Janet responded.

"Ewww, yucky, does that mean my dick was touching the baby's head? Eugh!!!", cried Quaid, mannishly, as he hastily pulled on his combat trousers (pants?) before flying away in his blackhawk.

The end

Sergeant First Class Brenth Gurpin was nervous. He had been through it all: no-knock raids in Iraqi neighborhoods, enhanced interrogation to get enemy locations from children in Syria, even calling airstrikes on birthday parties in Afghanistan. But today he was taking on a challenge he had no idea how to handle - Brenth was to be a bodyguard for the president in the Secret Service, and on the day of inauguration. He had been a fierce supporter of the president, who promised to Make America Great Again, and in the middle of the president's speech, couldn't contain the joy within, letting his eyes well up until tears slid down his cheeks while the president promised to build an Orphan Crusher at every ICE detention facility. In his periphery he noticed a woman looking in his direction and laughing. It was the president's wife. Brenth suddenly became embarrassed about making such an emotional first impression with her. Little did he know that it would be far from the only emotional moment he would share with the new first lady.

Blind//Drunk did a series reading this if anyone's curious enough about the plot but not willing to put yourself through the ordeal of reading it.

TL:DW - poorly written straw feminist goes to a Trump rally for material to write about in her blog, falls in love with a instead. The brief attempts at having the protagonist explain her feminist beliefs really highlight the depths of the author's understanding of such topics.

it's a rant about the mysandrist nature of modern society, as only women are allowed to survive shipwrecks. this sets up the central conflict of the book, where the only patriotic couple in the maiden voyage of the titanic 2 keeps their family unit together by having the military cum policeman husband identify as a woman. when this happens the author cuts through the fourth wall and gives the reader some minutes to laugh at this genius reveal.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a car dealership, must be in want of a trad-wife.

"Hi yah!"
Eva looked up from her embroidery to see her husband, Staff Sergeant Jackwell "Jack" Plantation doing karate moves on her 6 year old son on the front lawn. She knew it was important for her son to learn how to resolve his problems with physical violence and aggression, but, like all of her sex, she was afraid of pain. Her son had a bloody nose and was crying while her husband explained to him that tears were for women and homosexuals with a series of loving shouts and shoves. Jack was clearly the most powerful father in the subdivision, a fact which made her loins tremble in anticipation of another pregnancy. She asked God to forgive her and began getting ready for the next church service in their basement. Jack had hinted tonight's sermon would be about the evils of social workers.

She was easy on the eyes...

A treatise on how to please your woman and put her sexual needs first. Except for America. So it's America, then her needs.

Actually it's America, then God, then your role as a man, then your relationship to other men, then your wants, then beef, then beer, then sports, then how to behave in a public restroom, then ancient Rome.

And then her needs.

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

Beautiful, traditional White blonde ladies go first to secure the existence of our people and a future for White children.

White men go first? That's a paddlin.

Women of color go first? That's a paddlin.

Men of color go first? Oh, you better believe that's a paddlin.

Sister

Ke America Reat Again

Chapter 1

Laird fights against the crowd before being shoved up the steps as a man shouts "MY PRESIDENT" somewhere behind him. He had only meant to show up and support President Trump after the great Steal but this has turned into chaos. "Must be an antifa plot", he muses to himself as he resigns to the movement of the crowd towards the entrance of the capital building. Ahead of him there is only more pandemonium as the police have seemed to retreat. "Of course they don't have the manpowered since they've been defunded," he remembers bitterly. People being shoved over as the pace intensifies. This can't be happening in the freest country on Earth. A high pitched yelp erupts from his left as a rotund man in an black t-shirt with a red star topples onto a petite blond woman. She glances around in a panic struggling to free herself from under the corpulent mass of the man. Laird feels the sense of chivalry his parents instilled in him overwhelm is dedication to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Uncle Sam can wait, this woman needs help.

I assume it is a more American ripoff of Boris Johnson's 72 virgins.