Gutfeld reacts to report Trump didn’t want any ‘fat’ secret service
‘Gutfeld!’ discusses new book claiming the former president had preferences for his detail
In yet another scoop missed by Woodward and Bernstein. Washington Post reporter Carol Leonnig claims that Donald Trump didn’t want any fat or short Secret Service agents on his detail. Now that’s hard-hitting journalism.
If these allegations are true, not only was President Trump guilty of institutional fat-shaming, he also single-handedly crushed the lifelong dreams of a shy, chunky young lad by the name of Brian Stelter. Now this is from a book on the Secret Service – but the only “buzz” being generated is about the most interesting man on the planet since that old guy who drinks Dos Equis.
According to the book, Trump once said, “I want these fat guys off my detail.” He added, “How are they going to protect me and my family if they can’t run down the street?” So, once again someone’s trying to sell a book based on a conversation that likely cannot be verified by someone on record. And what happens: everyone in the press calls the same source to verify it. That’s their confirmation – a “misinformation loop”.
We don’t do that here at “Gutfeld!”. Mainly because we don’t have the budget for a phone and I’m really lazy. But also there’s no need to cuz I believe that quote is 100 percent factual. Of course, Trump would say he doesn’t want fat guys on his detail, cuz that’s what we’d all say! If we were the president too! He is us. We are him. And he’s right.
One of the only reasons to be president is the perks. This is not a great job. Half the country hates you and you always have to wear a suit and tie even to bed. And unless you’re a leftwing shill, the media despises you. And you can’t even look at a woman without being accused of something. And even if you get lucky – how can you be intimate when there are three men with guns nearby? I mean – I can. I practiced in prison. And God forbid you want to have a drink. You’ll have to put the whisky in a juice box. Something I learned from the gals on “Outnumbered”.
But having Secret Service is perk priority number one. As president, you can do anything. “Hey let’s drive by my old guidance counselor’s house and pelt his used Miata with rotten eggs.” And if anyone comes for you, the Secret Service can shoot them in the face. I think that’s in the Constitution! I didn’t check but I’m assuming
Look when I become president, I don’t want an agent who looks like a Coke machine with a head. I want him or her to look like Dolph Lundgren during the alleged steroid phase. Alleged. Or Carl Weathers in the Action Jackson phase. What a body. And he needed one – to fight Craig T. Nelson. Nobody remembers Craig T. Nelson
So: you need a show of force — not a show of flab. You want Clint Eastwood, Not Clint Howard. Remember, the movie was called “In the Line of Fire.” Not “In the Line of Dairy Queen.” This is why Trump was so beloved – he’d say what you would say. He didn’t lower the bar, he spoke like you do when you’re at a bar.
Of course, Trump also didn’t want short people either. So as a member of that community whose height has been historically underrepresented in law enforcement, and also on dating shows, should I throw a tantrum? Should I drown myself in a teapot? Or hang myself from a bowling trophy? No – I get it.
Look – if you’re supposed to take a bullet for the president, it’s kinda unfair if the president is a taller target than you. It seems like a thing that should be on the checklist of human shields. Is he in reasonably good shape, check. Owns a pair of mirrored sunglasses, check. Is taller than Peter Dinklage, check.
Of course, the Service has fitness standards for agents in the field. You have to be able to run a mile in under ten minutes. And beat up 10 hippies while riding a black bear. But some agents also have office jobs. That’s where I’d work. I know my place. I can catch a typo but not a bullet. I’ll take one for the team, as long as it’s a spiced latte with skim. Plus I’d have a really cool secret code-name, like “sorry, ladies, he’s married”.
But this excerpt is meant to portray Trump once again as intolerant, claiming Trump tried to remove staff he deemed to be too fat or too short. Boohoo. No one minded when he enforced these same standards for the Miss Universe pageant. Telling men who are too fat or too short, that you didn’t make the cut – that happens all the time. Among women, it’s known as “dating”. Kat, back me up.
I wonder what our angry White male thinks.
Tom Shillue as Angry White Male: You know, one of the things I’ve learned in life. Not everyone can do everything. When I was a kid I wanted to be a baseball player or a fireman. I guess I’m not suited to either one of those. Yea, there’s a lot I can’t do. But if you want a guy who can whittle a stick into something recognizable, I’m your man. What do you think? Human hand.
Hmm… I wonder what our angry Black male thinks.
Tyrus as Angry Black Male: What it is, what’s up? President Trump said he didn’t want a short fat guy as a bodyguard? No ****. Neither would I.
And so, once again, the media, experiencing their trademark Trump withdrawal seeks their next fix in another dopey excerpt. But remember this: Trump may not be a fan of imperfect physiques — but he never denigrated the working guy in law enforcement. You want a contrast? Try Joe Biden’s recent comments commemorating national police week – after a perfunctory expression of gratitude, he noted “a deep distrust towards law enforcement which has been exacerbated by the recent deaths of several black and brown people at the hands of law enforcement.” Like a guy with a sore tooth, he just couldn’t leave it alone.
Thanks for that Joe. Remind me not to have you give the eulogy at my funeral. Of course – the slandering of the police seems way worse, than wanting reasonably fit people to protect you and your country. And of course it was Trump’s insult, not Joe’s – that got more coverage. Do you think Trump gives two rips about what the positive body image crowd thinks? Fat chance.
This article is adapted from Greg Gutfeld’s opening monologue on the May 18, 2021 edition of “Gutfeld!”
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