Trumpical paradise

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JUST LISTED — Looking for a getaway where you can dig your toes – and head – into the sand?

Announcing multiple opportunities to escape reality in a private – and getting more private by the minute —  setting formerly occupied by the likes of the Senate Majority Leader, the U.S. Attorney General and a mummified televangelist.

Yes, we’re talking about Trump Island, where seclusion and delusion combine to create a paranoid paradise.

Hunt kraken. Eat hamberders. Drink as many Giuliani Sours as you like. Don’t worry. Check the label. Zero proof.

Breathe deep. That’s the smell of fact-free air.

Don’t wait! Time is running out to swap conspiracy theories with the island’s indigenous population of crackpot lawyers before they’re disbarred.

Who knows? You might even get to join a coup!

Grab your tinfoil hat and see for yourself. Flights depart the real world every hour. However, due to the volume of people currently leaving the island, expect a long delay if you want to return.

Trump Island. Come for the covfefe. Stay for the convictions.

Brad Broberg

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