Gigantic crybaby loser Donald Trump is having a bit of a fit. Because this is what he does: He sits in an office on the upper floors of some shoddily built skyscraper that has his last name plastered all over it and has conniptions over things people say about him on the web. Literally. He has people print out critiques so he can hand-write insults on them and mail them to the reporters that wrote them. This is how he spends his time, in tiny fits of pique that cause his hair to fall up.

Yesterday we noted that a Scotsman who stood up and opposed Trump’s plans to build yet another useless development was named “Top Scot” at the Spirit of Scotland awards. The awards are sponsored by Glenfiddich, a Scottish whiskey company. And sure enough:



Which means that there’s only one thing for good, honest, red-blooded Americans (over the age of 21) to do: Go buy some Glenfiddich. Give it as a present for the holidays. Show the company that you support their honoring a man who stood up to the world’s biggest jerk. And remember, today is Repeal Day, the 79th anniversary of the repeal of Prohibition. It’s basically mandatory you go get drunk.

Donald Trump will not be celebrating, with Glenfiddich or anything else, because he is a tiny immature baby whose only happiness in life comes from talking about himself and dictating tweets to the poor, forlorn people underpaid to serve him. Mr. Trump, if you’re reading this, I’m happy to provide my address for your insane scribbled feedback.

Grist thanks its sponsors. Become one.