Earaches, parasites and skin lesions - oh my!

When you care enough to take the grand kids swimming in poop puddles.

What says ‘wholesome family fun’ more than taking your grand children to a contaminated waterway for a little swim and possibly the worst earache they’ve ever had in their lives? Doesn’t it warm your cockles to see the current director of Health and Human Services for the whole damn country swim around in sewage with his progeny? Maybe next year he’ll make them a fort out of small pox infested blankets so they can have a lead paint chip picnic while he pontificates on the secrets of autism.

(I would be remiss if I didn’t make a ‘shit creek’ reference here, so maybe he was preparing them for bad times by taking them there without a paddle. How sweet.)

Dude. You’re swimming in fecal matter with children you led into the woods like a buff plumbing witch from Grimm’s Fairy Turds. I am honestly not concerned about the things autistic people can achieve in their lifetime but I have grave doubts about whether or not you should be left alone with little kids, anywhere.

Swimming, wading and even letting your dog dip their puppy paws into Rock Creek is prohibited by National Park Service.

“Rock Creek has high levels of bacteria and other infectious pathogens that make swimming, wading, and other contact with the water a hazard to human (and pet) health. Please protect yourself and your pooches by staying on trails and out of the creek. All District waterways are subject to a swim ban - this means wading, too!”

So what does Captain Brain Worm do? He dunks his grandson in it. Because human health is important to him. And he posted a picture of it on social media, just to make sure we know the poor child has been baptized in offal. It’s not bad enough that his name is ‘Chigger,’ or something equally as baffling, Grandpa needs a photo-op so little Chigger can be called Poop-Eyes by his peers for the rest of his life. That’s if he survives without contracting a deadly parasite or at the very least, hepatitis.

This little soiree in shit swamp tells me a lot about Mr. Bear Carcass. Mostly, it tells me he has no business being in charge of his own health, much less that of an entire nation. It also tells me he’s never had to sit up all night with a kid who had something that resembles anti-freeze dripping out of their ear while they soil your lap with diarrhea and wail pitifully. It tells me he’s either unaware of really important things involving the environment around him, or he just doesn’t give a flying freak about it.

Meanwhile, little Chigger and his sister Hymen Flower are the ones who tote an earache and questionable names. Once again, the innocents suffer for the brainworms of the elders. One day, y’all, the innocents won’t be little anymore and they’re going to want an explanation for why they were rendered feeble from being baptized in human ca-ca by their grandpa.

So here’s another apology to the future - we’re sorry, Chigger. Someone should have watched you closer and someone definitely should have locked your grandpa in a padded room a long time ago. The closest he should be to humanity is on the porch with a glass of sweet tea, telling the mail carrier about the time he was at the White House and in charge of Health and Human Services, while his nurse makes sure he doesn’t lick the sinks and wallow in the cat box.

This is where we are, kids. You can laugh or cry, or a little of both, but you can’t swim in poop and expect to come out of it unscathed. Until next time, read the signs and be kind to each other.