Trump can only look at a woman’s face for the amount of time a normal human being can look at the sun. After about 2.96 seconds, he starts to get dizzy and must resort to a more vision-friendly sight: her rack.
Although I don’t have first-hand confirmation for this, I imagine it’s harder for Trump to keep his eyes off a lady’s chesticles than it is for a child to keep his eyes off the unwrapped bag of Christmas gifts he stumbled across in the basement closet.
And I’m not saying I’m above drooling over a pair of sweater stretchers, but you need to pick your spots. Keeping up the facade of decorum is essential if you don’t want to get the reputation as a creepshow 1,000.
But I guess when you’re a self-proclaimed billionaire who makes doesn’t play by the rules of us peasants, you can stare at rubber baby buggy bumpers as much as you please. Ashley Judd knows this all too well.
The 48-year-old actress spoke to Jezebel reporter Ellie Shechet and summed up her nearly two decade relationship with the Donald.
“I’ve known Donald for 15, 17 years? I’m friends with someone who married into the family. Anyway, I would bump into him at the U.S. Open, for example, and I think I can say the amount of time he has spent looking at my chest rather than my face is proportional to his insanity and functionality,” she said.
“If I may, this is what it’s like to talk to Donald Trump.” Judd stopped and stared pointedly at my chest. “He’s a chest gazer, a breast gazer, let’s be more specific—and, referring to the person who at that time was married into the family, he just sexualized her. ‘Doesn’t she look great? Doesn’t she look—?’ He’s just revolting.”
Come on Donald, grow up.
No really. Be better.
You’re a goddamn neanderthal, Donald. A neanderthal.