DID TRUMP REALLY SAY THIS?

On yesterday’s special bulletin about the war with Iran which, according to Donald Trump,

is going better than any war in the history of the United States including Custer’s Last Stand.

Donald Trump actually said…

“In Iran, there are people walking the streets with their arms and legs blown off.”

Yes, Trump actually said it. So it goes on one of my favorite lists:

THE DUMBEST WORDS THAT EVER CAME OUT OF A POLITICIAN'S MOUTH

Here are some of them:

"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."

-Dan Quayle

"Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?"

-George W. Bush

"A zebra does not change its spots."

-Al Gore

"I've now been in 57 states – I think one left to go."

-Barack Obama

"Life is indeed precious, and I believe the death penalty helps affirm this fact."

-Former New York City Mayor Edward Koch

"Outside of the killings, D.C. has one of the lowest crime rates in the country."

- Former Washington D.C. Mayor Marion Barry

IT’S DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME. THE SUN IS OUT. THE SNOW IS MELTING AND I’M SO HAPPY I’M GOING BACK TO WHEN I WAS A HORNY 16-YEAR-OLD.

I remember a thousand years ago when I was a horny 16-year- old. Granted, when I was 16, dinosaurs still roamed the Northern Hemisphere. And I must admit that my skin had erupted to the point that I resembled one huge strawberry.

Like millions of other 16-year-olds, I had nothing but fantasy to get me through my miserable life.

Sixteen was the magic age when I stopped fantasizing about playing shortstop for the New York Yankees in the summer and quarterbacking for the New York Giants in the winter, and I got down to wholesome fantasies like getting it on with my sexy female Earth Science teacher.

This fantasy was the reason why at Lafayette High School in Brooklyn, I took Earth Science, a class that had to be the most boring subject in the world. But I didn't take it just once. No, I took it two years in a row. The teacher of this class was a woman I will call Mrs. Wicker (not her real name), who was pretty and buxom and in her late 30s. The class was made up of four or five girls who were interested in Earth Science and 34 boys who were interested in Mrs. Wicker.

She sat at her desk, prim and proper, always wearing a nice, starched white blouse and a tasteful skirt. Thirty-four boys and their 68 eyes were focused for the entire period on the front of her blouse. She would reach up with a piece of chalk to write on the blackboard and then when she innocently stretched, her blouse would be pulled against her ample bosom. Those boys sitting in the choice row of seats on the far side of the room would be treated to this incredible sight. This is what young boys looked at before the invention of the iPhone.

My own sexual experience with Mrs. Wicker — a scene whose memory has launched a thousand cold showers in my life — was when she called me to the blackboard in a final attempt to get the theory of stalagmites through my thick head.

"This," she said, drawing on the blackboard, "is the cave."

My mind racing, I thought, "Ohmigosh! The cave looks just like a ... "

Then she drew a stalagmite sticking up in the cave. There is no way that a stalagmite doesn't resemble a phallic symbol. At that point, I remember thinking, "I can't breathe."

Then it happened, the culmination of two years of my studying this incredibly boring subject: Mrs. Wicker reached up to finish drawing the stalagmite and a button at the top of her blouse, straining under the force of her magnificent breasts, popped open.

It was then I saw a sight that will stay with me the rest of my life — Mrs. Wicker's bra strap. It was a white, virginal bra strap and it contrasted so beautifully with her soft pink skin that I felt tears of happiness filling my eyes. It only lasted a few seconds and then she shifted her arms and it was gone.

I remember hobbling, bent over, going back to my seat with the giggles of the male students ringing in my ears. It was all worth it. The picture of that white bra strap will stay with me forever.

Are these the ramblings of your common, garden-variety, aging degenerate? No. I discussed this with my male friends over the years and they all had similar stories to tell when they were 16.

I had a brilliant writer friend tell me about joining the glee club at his high school in the Bronx just to stare at Mrs. Lieberman who, he insists, had a body that would put my Mrs. Wicker's body to shame. There was the financial wizard who took part in his Queens high school's theater program for four years just to stare and drool at Mrs. Levy, who ran the program.

I heard countless tales of dropped pencils to gaze at the crossed legs of teachers whose beauty obviously grows sharper with each dim passing year. Men over 75 can no longer remember where they put their car keys ten minutes ago, but they can vividly remember the look of the outline of the well-covered thighs of a substitute teacher they saw for five hours, 60 years ago.

I don't expect women to understand or agree with this. In fact, as they are reading this, most women are thinking, "How disgusting," while their husbands are thinking, "Miss Harrington!!!" "Mrs DiBartolo!!!" "Miss Linder!!!" "Mrs Russo!!!" "Miss Brooks !!!"

All I can do to placate women who are shocked at how men really think is to remind them of the great put-down line in the Tammy Wynette song, "Stand By Your Man," where she sums up and puts down men from 16 to 90 with these words:

"But if you love him you'll forgive him

Even though he's hard to understand

Cause after all he's just a man."