Out on an old hillbilly farm, an ancient man sits out on the deck, rocking in his overused wooden chair from dawn until dusk.

Finaly, his grandson comes home, his face sunburned from being outside all day long. The grandson sits down on the deck next to his grandpa’s rickety chair, and curiously says, “O’pa, watcha thinkin’ ’bout?”

The grampa sighs and massages his wrinkled forehead, as if being battered with a major headache, before calmly replying, “Sonny boy, I’m thinkin’ ’bout how our dear old president is like a monkey at a zoo.”

The grandson, now even more curious, inquires, “How is he like a monkey at a zoo, grandpa?”

The grandpa sighs and explains, “He ain’t supposed to be there in the zoo, and ever’one knows it. He sits around scratching his rear all day long, while all the puzzled people stare and wonder just how stupid he really is. But, son, deep inside they know it’s the human race’s fault that this complete moron is runnin’ the gover’ment.”

The grandson smiles mischievously and says, “Monkeys throw sh*t and make people hate them. Ol’ Georgey does that too, right, Gram’pa?”

The grandpa grins widely before saying, “You bet he does, Johnny. Sure as hell he does.”