Main course: New Trump Venture Smells to High Heaven ...

Leave it to Donald Jehosephat Trump to come up with the perfect name for his new cologne and perfume line: FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT! It’s really quite extraordinary isn’t it? Trump can develop and market a new fragrance line at the same time he has pledged to end, like, all the wars and stuff. How does he do it?!?

The packaging isn’t subtle. No milky glass stopper shaped like a mythic creature or a chicken thigh depending on your angle of view. Nope. FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT features a photo of Trump raising his fist on that fateful day when his earlobe was assassinated!

I imagine the new cologne has notes not so much of “birch, pinecone and herbaceous forest floor,” to use typically overwrought perfume parlance. No, no. I expect the fragrance is more reminiscent of whatever was pourin’ out of Josh Hawley’s pits on Jan. 6 as he sprinted away from the fray. And immigrant tears, of course. Lots and lots of those.

Ever the marketing stable genius, Trump managed to sidle up to a helpless Jill Biden long enough to get his picture taken with her in Paris last weekend so he could immediately post the pic on his social media captioned: “A Fragrance Your Enemies Can’t Resist!” Although, to be fair, the look on Jill’s face was less “Oh, my! You smell amazing Mr. Almost President!” and more “Oh, dear. Is there a gut wagon passing by?”

Because he’s apparently already solved the whole Russia/Ukraine kerfuffle (Yay!!!!) Trump felt comfy taking a moment out of his super busy Almost President schedule to hawk his new fragrances as “Great Christmas gifts for the family.”

The FAMILY???? Sorry, little Susie. I know you had your heart set on Santa bringing you that Barbie Dreamhouse Pool Party Doll House but, lookit, don’t be such a selfish lil bish. You’ll be the envy of the third grade playground if you splash on FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. Same goes for you, little Bobby. Tell Santa all you want is FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT cologne. Sure, it’s $199 a bottle (because $200 would’ve been crazy, amiright?) but how else are you going to pay millions owed in legal fees? Not you, Bobby. I’m talking about Trump. You’re not really much of a patriot, are you kid?

I’m assuming Trump was wearing a heavy dose of FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT as he leaned over Mrs. Macron’s mysteriously empty chair and Jill Biden’s eyes inexplicably watered.

Was the cologne burning her eyes or was she misting up as she was reminded Trump was going to be president. Again. In either case, tears seem like a perfectly logical response.

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Salty Snack: Pantone’s Color of the Year Looks Kinda Like Shit …

For those of you who eagerly await the announcement of the new color of the year from fancypants Pantone paints, 2025 is gonna leave a mark, A skidmark actually. Because “Mocha Mousse” looks like shit. There’s simply no nice way to say it. I’ve always enjoyed Pantone’s picks which are a sort of artistic shoutout to a new year but this? THIS???? If Pantone’s idea of 2025 is essentially a poop emoji, we are in trouble. Mocha Mousse is bleak and fecal. Let’s call it “bleakal.”

Damn, Pantone. I was hoping for something more…hopeful. But no. You sized up the new year and announced the color that will best represent 2025 looks alarmingly like what a neighbor’s dog (or possibly horse judging from the size of the prezzie) left in my front yard this morning.

In making the announcement of its shit-color of the year, Pantone noted the earthy color seizes on “a growing movement to align ourselves with the natural world.” Ohhhhhh. So it’s not just shit, it’s more specifically BULLSHIT.

If you’re thinking “So what? I just won’t paint my walls this color” you should know Pantone’s Color of the Year is a very big deal, influencing fashions and interiors for the year to come. Forget color! Think colon!

Laurie Pressman, vice president of the Pantone Collection, told NPR “It’s us taking the temperature: What’s taking place in the world around us and how does that get expressed into the language of color?”

Exactly. Sorry, Pantone. I know you’re right, but I had hoped you’d join me in a little fantasy that everything’s going to be fine. Thanks for nuthin’.