Thoughts On Mommy, The Mother Of All Mothers

And your invitation to Office Hours

Office Hours starts 8:00 PM Eastern every Friday.

I’ll take your calls for the first ninety minutes, and then we turn it over to the community.

Donald Trump’s first wife died on Thursday, July 14th, 2022.

Those of us who knew Ivana Trump remember her as a kind and gracious lady, three abortions shy of greatness.

Donald Trump Jr. on safari three years ago with his mother.

As many of you know my mother also passed away.

Mom died surrounded by her immediate family since loved ones were unavailable at the time.

My mother died as she lived, completely inconveniencing me.

How would I describe my mother?

Imagine Bernie Sanders without the pleasantries.

Mom was born in Cleveland, Ohio and died in New Jersey. So, it’s safe to say that she’s in a better place.

My family requests in lieu of donations to the Southern Poverty Law Center you instead send us flowers. And money.

I can offer but one lesson I learned from this entire experience.

When you buy the coffin from IKEA, assemble it BEFORE, NOT DURING, the funeral.

For those of you interested, we’re planning a destination shiva.

Our #destinationshiva will be hosted either on the South of France or in Teaneck, New Jersey, depending on how much you donate.

Will our destination shiva feature delicacies from Zabar’s? Or Sam’s Club? All up to you.

My mother was a kind lady.

I’m sorry, I wrote that wrong. My mother was kind of a lady.

Let’s just say she had loud opinions.

I can’t count the number of times during the Trump Administration that I had to say, “Mom! Will you please keep it down? The Secret Service could be listening.”

Mom had one item on her bucket list.

To mix battery acid with Ivanka Trump’s face.

Our parents never leave.

They stay inside of us forever, like a human papillomavirus infection.

Although you never met her, you can feel mom’s presence every time you hear a fire truck racing towards a burning children’s hospital and grumble, “Do they have to be so loud?”

My mother will always be with us.

Whenever you see Clarence Thomas’s wife, Ginny, and wish for her a permanent vaginal itch, my mother is with you.

Whenever you’re holding a hot poker and openly fantasize about shoving it up Mike Pence, my mother is with you.

Whenever you say, “I know Adolphe Menjou is dead, but I wish he’d come back just so I could kill him,” my mother is with you.

The clock is ticking.

Make sure nothing goes unsaid. You never know when a loved one might shove off before you get a chance to tell them how much they’ve ruined your life.

Dad is gone. Now mom. I feel old.

At least I can still maintain an erection. Just wish it was mine.

I loved my mother.

See you tonight at Office Hours!

Stay strong! Protect the weak!

David Feldman