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Quelle Suprise!

hey, folks? I’m not sure how to break this to you, but it’s looking more and more like the guy who lied about bone spurs and lied about hush money and lied about his dead pedo bestie and lied about how tariffs work and lied about being able to point to a camel and lied about his weight and lied about his golf scores and lied about his wealth and lied about a hurricane and lied about a pandemic and lied about his taxes and lied about a million other things has been lying to us about just how swimmingly his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran is going.

oh, and his piss-drunk Secretary of Death? the shouty one with all the Christofascist tattoos, who gets off on bombing schoolgirls? he’s been lying, too.

I know, right?

remember all that blather from Preznit Fuckwit about how Iran’s military has been smithereened to death and how they have no navy and can’t fight, and how the whole country is on the verge of complete collapse, and how Iran has no choice but to open up that Strait of Epstein, like, any minute now?

yeah, well guess fucking what.

that’s right, the Washington Post got its hands on a leaked CIA report that basically contradicts every word that’s seeped out of Dear Leader’s rancid anus-mouth.

The analysis by the U.S. intelligence community, whose secret assessments on Iran have often been more sober than the administration’s public statements, also found that Tehran retains significant ballistic missile capabilities despite weeks of intense U.S. and Israeli bombardment, three of the people familiar with it said.

oh, so not totally obliterated, then.

Donny has been presenting us with a version of his merry little war that bears absolutely no resemblance to reality.

either Donny’s been lying to us, or someone like Piss-Drunk Pete has been lying to Donny — or, more likely, everyone is lying to everyone, because that’s all these shit-kazoos do all day long, tell one lie after another like it’s going out of style.

remember how Donny keeps telling us he holds all the cards? he never shuts the fuck up about holding all the cards, because like any toddler who’s been dropped on its head, Donny thinks a stupid joke gets funnier the more often he repeats it.

well, it looks like Iran still has about three quarters of their cards.

Iran retains about 75% of its prewar inventories of mobile launchers and about 70% of its prewar stockpiles of missiles. There is evidence that the regime has been able to recover and reopen almost all of its underground storage facilities, repair some damaged missiles, and even assemble some new missiles that were nearly complete when the war began.

basically Donny isn’t even anywhere close to winning this war, because Iran still retains most of its weapons stockpile, and is rebuilding its military infrastructure faster than Donny can blow it up.

Iran is laughing at Donny, as they eat his lunch.

how is that any kind of victory? look at that, even Obama can’t figure it out — and he’s a smart dude. he went to Harvard and everything.

now take that story, and add to it the one we got the other day, about how “Iranian airstrikes have damaged or destroyed at least 228 structures or pieces of equipment at U.S. military sites across the Middle East since the war began,” to the point where some bases have had to move their staff elsewhere.

it’s just one ginormous shitpile of lies.

this is why I go fucking ballistic when I see a newspaper headline that begins with ‘Donny says…’ — because Donny says a lot of shit, and almost none of it is true.

telling us that ‘Donny says he’s winning’ without also noting that his claim is without evidence is not reporting, it’s worthless scribbling.

it fact, it’s worse than worthless. it’s outright dangerous, because a democracy cannot survive without a fully-informed populace.

so anyway, there we were, minding our own business yesterday afternoon, when out of the clear blue, The New York Times informed us that a possible deal to end the war and reopen the Strait was imminent.

after all, it’s nearly the end of the week, and those markets aren’t going to manipulate themselves.

but then like 30 seconds later,

The U.S. military said it struck Iranian military facilities and other targets after, it said, Iran fired on U.S. warships in the Strait of Hormuz.

what the fuck is going on in the Middle East? ‘exchanging fire’ doesn’t sound very ‘truce-y’ to me — and it didn’t sound very truce-y to a reporter who caught up with Donny later in the day.

reporter: “after these strikes is the ceasefire with Iran still on?”

Donny: “yeah, it is.”

the ceasefire is still on, because words stopped having meanings in the Donnyverse years ago. I’m so old, I remember when a ‘ceasefire’meant that all parties ‘ceased firing.’

Donny: “they trifled with us today. we blew ’em away. they trifled. I call that a trifle. I’ll let you know when there’s no cease— you won’t have to know. if there’s no cease fire, you’re not going to have to know, you’re just going to have to look at one big glow coming out of Iran. and they better sign their agreement fast.”

excuse me, a big fucking glow? did Donny just threaten to nuke Iran? he did, didn’t he?

what the fuck is wrong with this maniac?

this is all so incoherent. one minute we’re told that a deal is imminent — and then the next minute, missiles are flying everywhere. could everyone please stop getting shot?

and then to top it off, here comes Donny, and he’s all ‘Iran’s gonna be glowing. get it? get it?’

I know that Donny imagines this makes him sound like the ultimate tough guy, but it doesn’t. he just sounds weak and stupid, and his threats accomplish nothing. every time the fucking idiot says something like this, Iran just gets up and walks away from the negotiating table. it’s how they’ve reacted to every one of Donny’s infantile threats — and Donny would understand that by now, if the demented imbecile had any capacity to learn.

has anyone checked the prediction markets? I’ll bet there’s someone out there who’s going to make a total killing on any nuclear conflagration.

we def need a palate cleanse after all that. I don’t know who created this image, but they just won the entire internet.

meanwhile, good news, everyone! we’re all going to die of hantavirus.

reporter: “can I ask you about the hantavirus? have you been briefed on the virus?”

Donny: “yes, I have.”

reporter: “can you tell us what you’ve learned in these briefings?”

Donny: “well, I think you’re going to be told everything, and you already have. uhhhh, it’s very much, we hope under control. it was the— ship. and I think we’re gonna make a full report about it tomorrow. we have— a lotta people. it’s a lotta great people, are studying it. it should be— fine. we hope.”

reporter: “are you concerned it’s going to spread?”

Donny: “I hope not, I mean I hope not.”

oh joy, Donny hopes not. rest easy, everyone — the guy who tried to wishful-think a pandemic out of existence six years ago is on the case.

Donny’s got a ‘lotta great people’ who are ‘studying it.’ big, strong, teary-eyed virologists, who are definitely in the room with us right now.

why does hearing this from Donny this fill me with zero confidence?

I don’t know about you, but I’m so glad that I have boxes and boxes of masks and gloves left over from the covid era.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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Peak Design

Sony D-10

I’ve always thought that the Sony Discman models from the late 80s through possibly the early 90s was when Sony hit peak design. For the most part they were still heavy, all metal cases and high quality components throughout. Sure, this was before the “g-force” technology came into existence so all you’d have to do is give one some side-eye and it would skip, but you couldn’t fault their aesthetic. While Sony marketed them as on-the-go machines, they really weren’t. Portable? Yes—portable as in they weren’t 18-inch wide units you’d find in a home stereo. They were—and still are—perfect for desk use, which is where I use mine. I remember taking my Discman to work and jamming out to Miami Sound Machine on many a hot summer afternoon while drafting construction documents at Kim Acorn Associates in Tucson, Arizona..

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Pride Narcissism Goeth Before The Fall

From Palmer Report:

History is replete with villains who should have seen their downfall coming but did not. Hitler spent his final days still insisting that he was about to win World War II, thanks to a new Nazi secret weapon that didn’t exist. Saddam Hussein was completely caught off guard by the invasion that chased him into a mud filled hole, even though that invasion was being broadcast on live television. It’s enough to make you wonder how someone who went to such conniving, paranoid, evil lengths to take power and remain in power could, in the end, be so distracted when it mattered most.

These types of villains, of course, have something wrong with them to begin with. Their minds, obviously, do not work like that of a normal, sane, decent person. But you’d think that the same paranoid hyperawareness that got these villains where they were in the first place would end up being something they’d never let go of. Yet at some point, usually toward the end, as things are getting undeniably worse for them, these types somehow conclude that they somehow don’t need to worry about anything at all.

Perhaps it’s a subconscious attempt at denying the reality they’re facing. An attempt at enjoying the time they have left, in whatever deranged way they feel enjoyment, as the walls cave in. Or maybe they’re merely betrayed by their own narcissistic sense of invincibility. But regardless of the reason, the result tends to be the same. And this brings us to Donald Trump’s week.

By now everyone knows that Trump has become obsessed with building a White House ballroom. It makes sense, given that he’s the world’s worst real estate developer and has spent his entire life trying to con others into paying for his shoddy construction debacles so he can launder money through them. Perhaps he sees it as one last big real estate con, the last gaudy piece of crap he’ll ever get to build as his health continues to collapse. But as it turns out it’s not just the ballroom.

Yesterday Trump showed of renderings of a UFC mixed martial arts fight that he plans to host on the White house lawn on his birthday. That’s right. Trump, whose approval rating is historically low, whose economy is collapsing, whose war in Iran has been lost before it began, whose ballroom has less support in national polling than (not making this up) ghosts and telepathy, has now decided that his big fix for everything is to have a couple guys beat the crap out of each other while he watches.

Whatever you think of mixed martial arts, that’s beside the point. You could be the biggest UFC fan in the world, and if you were in Trump’s current position, you still wouldn’t conclude that hosting a UFC fight on the White House lawn is the key to turning around your failed presidency. It’s just not a thought that a mentally competent person, good or bad or evil or otherwise, could even entertain. Yet here we are.

Donald Trump’s advanced dementia exacerbates all of this, of course. And because his downfall is going to come in the form of losing the midterms, getting impeached, and dying of his worsening health problems in humiliating fashion, one can grasp why it’s a little harder for him to see it coming than, say, Hitler or Hussein being unable to hear the bombs dropping around them. But still, Trump thinks everything is going so swimmingly for him that he can afford to focus almost solely on a ballroom and a fistfight? This all just keeps growing more absurd.

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We’re all getting contact insanity from proximity to this violent, kleptocratic Administration.

There is no way for otherwise mentally well, emotionally stable human beings to exist in this kind of prolonged lunacy and extended predation without being internally altered, without losing some sense of normalcy, without developing a persistent PTSD that will likely never leave.

It’s understandable. We are all sharing our home with an unhinged cadre of miserable doomsday cult squatters who will not rest until everyone around them is as nihilistic and devoid of joy as they are.

The toxic cocktail of boundless hatred, prolific malfeasance, and breathtaking incompetence that they continually day drink from spills over into the lives of those of us who still wake up every morning just hoping to do our work, care for our families, help people, and enjoy human existence without having to contend with full-blown Armageddon.

No event comes without chaos, no day arrives free from existential catastrophe, no consequential moment is not leveraged to divide. For the last ten years, everything has been a fraud, a grift, a con, or a weapon, manufactured and stewarded by a collection of broken people who’ve found affinity in their greed, narcissism, and refusal to do the work of self-examination.

Combine this carefully curated chaos with incessant attacks on the media, dubious dissemination of information following emergencies, and never-clear investigatory procedures in their aftermath, and every single moment of crisis is made exponentially worse.

This week has been no exception.

Within nanoseconds of a shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, hundreds of MAGA influencers, Right-Wing talk show hosts, and Republican politicians began saturation bombing social media with a single message:

This is why we need Trump’s ballroom.

Uh, what?

Conservative influencers were still livestreaming from the site of an alleged assassination attempt on the President and Cabinet, in a monumental breach of what should be the absolute tightest of safety protocols—and the wave of propaganda and disinformation flooded our newsfeeds.

Not gratitude for the incident ending without death.
Not concerns for the safety and well-being of hundreds of people.
Not efforts to bring clarity to the bedlam of yet another supposed targeting of a President.

Such things would be the hallmarks of a collective not addled by cultic tribalism and possessing working empathy. They would have defined any other Administration in this nation’s history.

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In the wake of the WHCD, as in every other time of national unease, what we get from Trump, from his soulless surrogates, and his wish-they-were-bots-but-sadly-they’re-actual people, is nonsense and buffoonery.

Instead of factual information, calm-headed discourse, and calls for unity, we get a coordinated virtual building campaign for another bloated, opulent, gold-plated monument to a cognitively-addled felon-rapist, who is rapidly losing his battle with time and gravity and wants to desecrate everything he can with his likeness before departing.

Trump’s cultivated mass delusion has permanently damaged tens of millions of people around us who quite likely would have been reasonable right now if not for having developed Stockholm syndrome and becoming emotionally tethered to their greatest abuser. Their identities and destinies are now inextricably bound to his.

And my friends, that leaves the rest of us; the sleep-deprived, heartbroken, rightfully furious human beings to try and hold onto our right minds while being immersed in the insane, the profane, and the cruel, by people who have nothing else to offer.

And our individual and collective sanity is non-negotiable if we are to withstand this steady onslaught of chaos, be effective in reversing our political realities, and course correct from the greatest error in our nation’s history.

Resist the pull of their nonsensical rage bait, do your best to avoid being distracted by their incendiary bombast, and do not be drawn into debate with people who have abandoned sense and benevolence.

Find times of rest and clarity, taking refuge in stillness and solitude.
Care for your physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional health.
Create beautiful things, cultivate gratitude, and fight like hell to stay joyful.
Immerse yourself in meaningful community with your like-hearted neighbors.
Partner in the redemptive, neighbor-loving work happening where you are.

And above all, refuse to let your mind descend into the spinning maelstrom of madness that has swallowed so many around us. We can’t afford to lose our heads or our souls right now.

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Dear White Evangelical Church,

I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is you’re dying.

If you’re paying attention, you’ve probably noticed the symptoms.

Your buildings are slowly clearing, your pews gradually emptying, your congregations visibly aging away, your voice carrying less resonance than it used to.

The reasons for this are complicated and interconnected, but here are a few broad strokes:

You’re dying because of your hypocrisy.

People see the ever-widening chasm between who you say you are and what they regularly experience in your presence.
They see the great disparity between the expansive hospitality of Jesus and the narrow prejudice you are so often marked by.
They see Christ’s deep affection for the poor, hurting, and marginalized, and either your quiet indifference or your open hostility toward them.
They’ve listened to you preach incessantly about the immorality of the world, the dangers of greed, the corrupt nature of power, the poison of untruth, the evils of sexual perversion—and watched you willingly align with politicians embodying all of these.
They see that you are so often the very kind of malevolent ugliness that you forever warned was coming to assail the world.

You’re dying because of your willful ignorance.

People are tired of your war on Science.
They are sick of your arguing with Biology.
They are exhausted by your attacks on women.
They are disgusted by your justifications of racism.
They despise your narcissistic nationalism.
They know the Earth is round.
They know it is billions, not thousands of years old.
They know dinosaurs walked it.
They know that it is warming rapidly.
They know people here don’t choose their sexuality or deserve their poverty.
They know whoever and whatever God doesn’t appoint Presidents or hand out weapons or attack people with tornadoes.

You’re dying because of your devotion to cruelty.

People watch you dig in your heels against others because of their gender identity and their sexual orientation; the way you continually exact violence upon them, the way you try to blame God and the Bible for your mindless bigotry.
They’ve seen your intolerance to other religious traditions: how you vilify anyone who finds spirituality and meaning outside of your precise expression of Christianity, how you so easily disregard the faith stories of those who don’t mirror your own.
They’ve watched you so revel in being the bully to those you were originally called to protect.

You’re dying because of your complicity in violence.

Good people have seen you so often be a haven for misogynists, domestic abusers, sexual predators, and white supremacists, who more often receive protections than condemnation.
They’ve heard your explicit silence in the face of a brutal and rising flood of open racism, of hostility toward immigrants, of anti-Semitism, of attacks on Asian people and Muslims.
They see your pastors and leaders misuse their positions and leverage their influence to victimize the most vulnerable and make them scapegoats for discrimination.
They’ve watched you be the last, hateful holdout in matters of gender equality, racial diversity, sexuality, and theological difference; lagging behind almost everyone in the world in the kind of goodness you say you aspire to.

It’s easy to be fooled into believing you’re well because you have the political power of a presidency behind you, because you can temporarily impose your will on this nation. But this frantic flurry of cruelty is actually the death rattle of a doomed and dying thing. The empty bombast and blinding lights of your megachurches are a hollow rally that may momentarily anesthetize you, but they cannot stave off what is coming.

Yes, Evangelical Church, the bad news is that you’re slowly but surely expiring as you are now.

The good news is that in your passing, something else is being born.

Rising in these days is a sprawling movement of disparate people, not bound by denomination or tradition or nation, who want to create something redemptive and life-giving here, who don’t care what it’s called, who gets the credit, or what building it happens in.

Its makers are conscientious objectors in your unending holy wars, choosing to step away from you in order to create loving spiritual communities, grow deeper in personal faith, escape tribal partisan politics, craft a healthier planet, reflect the character of Jesus, and hold onto their souls.

These newly emancipated sojourners are creating something of compassion and generosity and hospitality; a radically inclusive faith that opens the table, a spirituality that welcomes the world, a religion that does no harm: a working theology of love. These open-hearted human beings are unearthing the beauty buried beneath heavy layers of rigid dogma, ornamental religion, and institutionalized discrimination.

The soul is leaving a body that no longer serves it, and you are that body.

The bad news for you, White Evangelical Church, is that you are certainly dying.

And it’s very good news for the rest of us and for a Jesus you have long abandoned.

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I Just Can’t Any More. I Am SO Tired Of The Constant Lies Pouring From His Anus Mouth, His Accordion Hands, And Most Of All I Am Tired Of The Republicans Inability To Remove Him From Office

hey, remember that fucked-up morning back in October when we all woke up to find that demolition crews were already hard at work smashing the shit out of the White House’s stately and historic East Wing?

remember how outraged we were?

calm the frig down, we were told. don’t get all knicker-twisted. Dear Leader is going to put up a big, beautiful Epstein Dance Hall in its place. it’s going to be amazing. oh, and here’s the beauty part: it ain’t gonna cost you taxpayers one penny. Donny and all his billionaire besties are going to completely foot the bill, because their hearts are enormous and they love America to pieces.

yeah, well guess what. the bill for this dance hall just came due, in the form of the GOP’s budget reconciliation legislation — and We the People are on the hook for a billion fucking dollars.

what in the hallowed name of Bait-and-Switch Jesus is this fuckery? when did this ‘gift to America from Donny and his morbidly wealthy homies’ become a billion dollar taxpayer-funded boondoggle?

it’s not like there isn’t an extensive public record of Donny running his fat yap about how he was going to personally pick up the tab for this abomination.

check this out: CNN actually committed a journalism and put together a montage of Donny promising over and over that his fugly Epstein Dance Hall wasn’t going to cost a single taxpayer dime.

“and I’m paying for it. I’m paying for it.”
“we’re donating a four hundred million dollar ballroom.”
“myself and donors are giving them, free of charge, for nothing.”
“we did it, we said no charge to the taxpayer whatsoever.”
“rich people and people are putting up the money. zero taxpayer dollars.”
“it’ll cost two hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“it’s about three hundred million.”
“it’s approximately four hundred million.”

don’t you just love how the price keeps spiraling? two-fifty mil. three hundred. no, four hundred. last week it was six hundred million.

and now, a billion. why? is the accursed thing going to be made out of solid gold?

let’s back up a second, because I have a question. Donny claims to have already raised three hundred mil from his oligarch buds.

Trump has said that the administration has raised about $300 million for the project.

tell me, please, because I really want to know: where the fuck is thatmoney? did it get up and walk away? is it now in one of Donny’s bank accounts?

WHERE’S THE FUCKING MONEY?

this fugly, unnecessary dance hall is such a perfect encapsulation of America in the year 2026.

nobody asked for this. nobody said ‘hey let’s take the stately and historic East Wing and smash it to rubble so some piss-baby narcissist can build some ginormous monument to his own ego.’ no, this vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ is being inflicted on us by a serial predator who isn’t big on consent.

think of how many teacher’s salaries a billion dollars could pay for. think of all the school supplies a billion dollars could buy.

did you know that at the start of every school year, teachers have to crowdfund in order to pay for things like chalk and erasers? what the fuck?

what kind of shithole country forces teachers to brainstorm with each other to come up with new ways to beg for money — money that the federal government should be giving them for free?

oh I’m sorry, there’s no money for funding education. we had to cut that shit out of the budget. oligarchs need tax cuts. Jeff Bezos’ personal flotation device needs to refurbish her kidneys.

and Donny needs a billion dollars for his hideous Epstein Dance Hall™.

“because they’re sick people, they’re sick people, and we’re not gonna let lunatics have a nuclear weapon. the power of a nuclear weapon is— something I don’t even wanna talk about. it’s not gonna happen, and— we have— beaten them badly, they’re talking all— now they’re reduced to little boats with a machine gun on the front of them.”

read the room, you dunderhead, you’re talking to kids.

pro tip: don’t put Sundowning Grandpa Fuckbrain in the same room with children. he hasn’t the slightest clue how to talk to them.

those kids were props, trucked in to stand around while Donny signed some ‘Presidential Fitness Proclamation’ — and what does he do? start yammering about nuclear bombs and boats with machine guns. perfectly normal, age-appropriate stuff.

remember when Donny told some 7-year-old that Santa Claus didn’t exist? remember when he spoke at a Boy Scout Jamboree and started rambling about drunken boat orgies?

remember when Donny and his dead pedo bestie used to argue over who got to ‘own’ the ‘spa girls’ at his Florida golf motel? that should forever disqualify Donny from being allowed in the same room with anyone under the age of 21.

mommy, what’s mutilization?

“when you have men in women’s sports, and you have open borders, when you have transgender mutilization — don’t listen to this, kids — of your children, of your children. trans. gender. mutilization of your children, or for everyone. when you have policies like that, you have to cheat. it’s the only way they can win. and we shouldn’t allow them to cheat.”

what kind of parent says yes to having their kid in the same room as this malignant toad? don’t make me come over there and call child protective services.

‘don’t listen to this, kids’ — cover your ears as the demented hatemonger fills the room with his sick brand of bigotry.

and could someone please explain to Dear Leader that nobody is ‘mutilizing’ children? that’s not a word, and it’s not a thing.

remember, Donny actually believes that schools in America are performing gender reassignment surgeries on random children, without warning — that Jimmy gets on the school bus in the morning and when that child steps off the bus in the afternoon, she’s now Jane.

Donny seriously campaigned on ending this imaginary scourge, and apparently he thinks it’s still going on.

this is our president. he’s bugfuck nuts, he’s completely detached from reality, and he needs a billion dollars for his tacky Epstein Dance Hall.

have you heard? we’ve moved the goalposts once again in the don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran. here’s Liddle Marco Big-Shoes to lay it out.

“our preference is for the Straits to be opened, to the way they’re supposed to be open. back to the way it was.”

wait, that’s our new goal? to open the thing that was already open in the first place, and only got closed down because Donny started an unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal war?

why did we just waste 25 billion dollars on bombing the shit out of Iran? for that money, we could have built twenty-five vulgar Epstein Dance Halls.

hell, we could have transgender mutilized every child on the planet.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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How Much Longer Will We Have To Suffer Before They 25th Amendment Him?

of the myriad accomplishments that Preznit Fuckwit has accomplished during an entire lifetime of accomplishments, none fill him with a greater sense of pride than his preternatural ability to point at shit.

big, strong neurologists — the afternoon sun glistening off their massive biceps, copious tears of gratitude coursing down their chiseled cheeks — will come up to Dear Leader and say ‘sir! sir! no one takes a brain damage assessment test like you do! sir! can you please take another one? sir!’

and Donny, he’s so eager to show off his skills, he’s all ‘what do you need me to point at, bro? a squirrel?’

boom! manifested!

“no president has ever taken [a cognitive test] except me. I’ve taken three of them. I’ve aced each one. one in the first administration. two over— and whenever they get a little sassy, like ‘does he still have it?’, I say all right, I’ll take another. and they are hard. you know, the first question is very easy, and they always show the first question. you have a lion, a bear, an alligator, and a what’s another good— a squirrel, okay? ‘which is the squirrel?’”

know why Dear Leader is so goddamned proficient at pointing at squirrels?

it’s because has has a whole family of them living inside his big dumb pumpkin head.

how completely fucking insane is it that bragging about how good he is at pointing at shit has now become a central part of every one of Donny’s public appearances?

it no longer matters who Donny’s speaking in front of, or what the topic is. his prowess at pointing now comes up every single time he opens his rancid anus-mouth. yesterday’s Oval Bordello dog-and-pony show was ostensibly a ‘small business summit.’ there was no possible context for yammering about squirrels, but that didn’t stop Donny from boasting about taking a test that’s only administered to people suspected of having brain damage.

it’s just more perfectly normal stuff from our perfectly normal president — except for the part where none of this is normal, and all of it is insane. having a crazypants president is not sustainable. alarm bells should be going off in Congress and in every newsroom in America right now — and yet, our institutions have one again failed us, and have normalized having a deranged and impaired president.

oh, and by the way — there’s no squirrel in the MOCA assessment test. remember harder, dumbfuck.

no president has ever worked so tirelessly to convince the American people that he isn’t bugfuck nuts — and you know what? no one’s buying it.

Heather Cox Richardson, could you step in here and give Donny the bad news?

According to a new Washington Post–ABC News–Ipsos poll, fifty-nine percent of Americans believe President Donald J. Trump does not have the mental sharpness necessary to lead the country. Fifty-five percent think he does not have the physical health to serve as president. Fifty-four percent say they don’t think Trump is a strong leader. Sixty-seven percent think Trump doesn’t carefully consider important decisions.

sorry, pal. it looks like no one’s falling for your ‘I’m so good at squirrel’routine.

gee, I wonder where so many people got the idea that Donny’s an erratic imbecile. maybe it’s because he acts like one.

pretending he’s a ‘trans weightlifter’ is also now a regular part of Donny’s act. why? all he’s doing is reminding everyone that he’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

and it’s not just the weird-ass raving. Donny’s now at the ‘words, do they even exist’ stage of his cognitive collapse.

“on the way back home, take a trip to the reflecting pond, or— they call it the reflecting pool, some people call it the reflecting lake, but the word ‘reflecting’ is always a part of it. they call it different things but ‘reflecting’ is always a part.”

what the actual fuck? no one on the planet calls it the ‘pond’ or the ‘lake’ — it’s been the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool since it was built in 1922. but since Dear Leader can no longer dredge the proper word from the murky depths of his rotting brain, he has to pretend that nobody can agree on what it’s called. I guess it’s now just some linguistic free-for-all.

maybe we should call it the Squirrel Pond and let Donny brag about how he can point at it.

I’m so old, I can remember all the way back to our previous president. when Joe Biden would occasionally stumble over a word, the press would react as if it were the Fall of the Republic, and demand Joe resign on the spot, for the good of the country.

but Donny has somehow earned a lifetime free pass to stand there with his brain visibly leaking out of his ears, and no one in the media says boo.

wake the fuck up, Jake Tapper.

Dear Leader can point to all the squirrels he wants to and claim it’s proof of his mental stability, but everyone can see how an erratic and irrational Donny changes his mind about Iran every single fucking day.

“President Trump tells Fox if US ships are targeted in the region, Iran will be ‘blown off the face of the earth’”

oh, okay. so Donny’s back to threatening to blow an entire country off the face of the earth. perfectly normal stuff.

for those of you keeping score at home, in just the last four days, we’ve gone from ‘hostilities are over, I pinky-swear it’s true’ to ‘that blockade, it’s a friendly blockade’ —

— to ‘everything’s cool, we’re liberating the Strait,’ to ‘we’re gong to blow these fucking fucks to kingdom come.’

it’s not just the batshit ranting that has Donny’s poll numbers in the shitter. everyone can also see that Donny’s a physically deteriorating mess who can no longer walk a simple straight line.

holy fuck. a meandering Donny changes direction about eight times in this 30-second clip. if you were a cop, you would immediately rush over and administer a field sobriety test.

granted, Donny isn’t quite yet at the ‘ministry of silly walks’ phase — but he’s getting there.

the press can sanewash and healthwash Donny all they want, but the public has eyes and ears and they can witness for themselves that Dear Leader is out there where the buses don’t run.

having a deranged chief executive who threatens to destroy entire countries and can no longer remember what words mean is a clear and present danger to the entire world.

here’s the good news: Donny’s massive unpopularity is dragging down his entire party. even the White House recognizes that a bloodbath is coming.

The White House is forecasting a rough November for congressional Republicans.

In private briefings, attorneys at the White House Counsel’s Office are preparing executive branch staff for a blue wave in the 2026 elections, The Washington Post reported Monday.

let’s make this happen. let’s all work to make the White House’s nightmare a reality. then, a Democratic-controlled Congress can at least begin to restore sanity to Washington.

we can do this.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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