Coup d’Etat, By Churro

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The churro of death! At least I think it’s a churro. Perhaps it’s an elote with spinning metal kernels, like a tunnel boring machine.

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Once Trump is dispatched, urchins will breach the yet-to-be-built wall bearing Mexican flags.  This might be a case of being too truthful for one’s own good.

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Like depicting a mournful pig contemplating mortality at the entrance of your carniceria.

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Or portraying sex symbols as eight-nippled dispensers of milk.

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Udder-ly unironic.