- What kind of a baby comes out of his mother’s vagina wearing a flashy Italian suit?
- Wait, why is he orange…were you fucking the orangutan again, Mary Anne?!
- You can see it in his eyes — the kid’s either going to be a swindling crook or the president…maybe both.
- Haha, look honey, he’s trying to grab your pussy!
- With all those hand gestures you’d think he was Italian, not German.
- Just watch, he’ll be bald like me by the time he’s 40…either that or he’ll start wearing one of those silly corn silk hairpieces.
- Guess it’s fitting that he was born in Queens…looks like a total twinkle toes to me.
- My God, he’s pooping all over the place — our little Donnie’s full of shit, Mary Anne.
- Hey, what d’ya know, he has the same puckered Nazi lips as his grandfather.
- We have a June 14th baby, my dear…Flag Day. Let’s pray he doesn’t go all “Make America Great Again” on us someday.
- Kind of a small banana he’s got there — he’ll probably try to compensate later in life by screwing every bimbo in sight.
- Let’s just hope he keeps up the Trump tradition and dodges the draft with some phony ailment — we don’t need any heroes in this family!
- Alright, Mary Anne, this is our fourth kid…and he’s no prize. You have one more chance to get it right.
- I made a bet with Joe down at the barbershop that he’d come out roaring like a lion. Instead he crawls out whimpering like a petrified puppy. Guess I owe Joe a beer.
- I know he’s just a baby, but shouldn’t his hands be bigger? They’re almost microscopic.
- In 70 years, this little guy will be managing his own whites-only apartment buildings.
- Some gypsy out in the hallway just said the anti-Christ was born in Room 111. What room number is this?
Thanks to all the many readers, fans, followers, and even my frenemies, for reading and commenting on my posts throughout the year as I continue my commitment to post every day, 7-days-a-week until the Orange Accident is no more.
I read every comment. And I try to answer.