"If'n ol' Donal' Trump went up aginst that ol' Fin Deezul, who d' y'r think'ld win?"
"Uh... huh? What are you talking about?"
"Simple question, Cope. Say Donal' Trump went macho t' macho wit' Fin Deezul, who d' y'r think'ld still be standin' at the end?"
"Red, that's maybe the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me."
"OK then, smarmy-pants. Let's make it that ol' feller what plays ol' James Bond. He's purty good wit' his fits, ain't he? That Greg Daniels feller? Let's say him and Donal' Trump went toe t' toe. Who d' ya' think'ld win that'n?"
"It's Daniel Craig, not Greg Daniels. And why on earth would Trump ever be in a fist fight with Daniel Craig? Or Vin Diesel, for that matter."
"Gull durnit, Cope! I ain't saying they would be in a fits fight. I's just askin' who you think'ld win if'n they were in a fits fight."
"Well... OK... if I had to say... if I absolutely had to guess who would come out on top in a fist fight between Donald Trump and Daniel Craig... or Vin Diesel... I'd say it would be Daniel Craig. Or Vin Diesel. No question. There. You happy?"
"Wrong, Cope! Jus' like y' al'ays is! Y'r forgettin' that the James Bond feller, and Fin Deezul too, ain't real! They's movie stars, tha's all. An' ev'r thin' they do in them movies is made-up stuff. Just acause they look tough in a movie don' mean they really are tough."
"And you're saying that Donald Trump really is tough, is that it? That's there's nothing made-up about what we see him doing?"
"Ain't you been lis'nin' to what he's been sayin', Cope? 'Bout how he'd like t' be punchin' them protasters in the mug? 'Bout how if'n it were up to him, they'd be haulin' them heckaleers out o' there on stretchers? 'Bout how ever'body's such pansies now-a-days that nobody wants t' hurt nobody no more, like they did back in the good ol' days. That ain't no made-up actin' stuff. Tha's the real deal, Cope! Tha's the kind o' tough talk what they only preten' t' do in movies!"
"Ah, Red. Please tell you're not foolish enough to believe Trump is a tough guy himself, just because he can prod the dunces in his audience to act like vicious apes."
"Who's you callin' fictshus apes, Cope? Them's real apes! Nothin' fictshus about 'em! An' don' tell me ol' Donal' Trump ain't no real tough feller, either. He's growed up in New Yorg City, f'r cryin' out loud! Don' you know nothin' 'bout New Yorgers!? Ain't you never seen no Marvin Scorpeezee movies!?"
"Trump grew up the son of a rich man, Red. He grew up in private schools. He grew up privileged from day one, your Donald Trump. He never worked for anyone but his daddy. He dodged the draft and never served in the military. He started out his own career with a million-dollar kick-start. So tell me, Red... at what point in this pampered bastard's life did he ever punch anyone in the mug or put someone on a stretcher himself? Why, I'd be damned surprised to learn he was ever in a fist fight in his life.
"Then hows come he's got so many o' his follower fellers inspirated to punch a heckaleer? Huh? Hows come he can incitipate that kind o' boldness out o' folks if'n' they di'n' see that kind o' boldness out o' him?"
"You have it ass-backwards, pal. There's nothing bold about sucker punching a protester when you're surrounded by a mob of morons egging you on. It's what cowards do. Bullying, mindless cowards. And they're being 'incitipated' to do it by the biggest, bullying-est, mindless-est coward in the room. A coward who probably hasn't been without a bodyguard at his back for decades. A coward who insults and debases and demeans others precisely because he knows he will never personally have to suffer any consequences for his words. Tell you the truth, Red, I picture Trump as more of a slapper, not a slugger. And the way he talks about women, I can pretty well guess who he's been slapping."
"You's ain't implistatin' ol' Donal's the sort o' man what'd whop a female, I hope, Cope."
"Sure as hell am. In every measure that counts as decency, morality and civility, I don't think there's a breath of difference between Trump and the lowest, most abusive bum that you'll ever come across in a domestic violence court. He's not tough. He's just plain trashy."
"An' wha's wrong wit' that? Gull durn, Cope, wit'out trashy, we wouldn't have no Monster Truck rallys 'r no professional wrestlin'. Wit'out trashy, we wouldn't have motorsickles what ain't got no mufflers, an' Carl's Jr, advertisin', an' the National Enquirement mag'zine, an' Honey Boo Boo 'r Duck Dynasty! Wit'out trashy, there woul'n't be no hats worn inside, n'r most o' country music, n'r most o' wha's on that Facebook, n'r most o' what that Lady Gaga does t' get attention. We wouldn't have shock jocks 'r cowboy clothes 'r Andy Sandler movies 'r tank tops 'r pay-day loan joints 'r Justin Beaver. Cope, you'd ought face it... trashy is what this country is all about! An' ain't nobody un'erstands that better'n ol' Donal' Trump! We's finally gettin' th' pres'dential canderdate we deserve!
"Wow, Red. I don't think I could have said that better myself. Out of the mouth of boobs, huh?
"Who's you callin' a boob, Cope!?