The Trump Nightmare, Does It Ever End?
Sometimes I enter into a pit of such despair I have no idea what to blog about. This was one of those weeks. The United States is objectively, not subjectively, this is not an opinion, this is a fact...the United states is objectively doing the worst job with Covid of any affluent nation on the planet. Every day more than a thousand Americans are dying. Most of these people would have lived had anyone else been President. Anyone else.
And yet, there's a debate. Is it Trump's fault? Cable news fills hundreds of hours talking about this, as if there were anything to talk about. As if this shitshow wasn't as plain as the nose on your face. You have a nose right? I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone who lost their nose. If you have a fucking nose, and you can see it, then you can see that Trump is guilty of mass negligent homicide.
It's very similar to when you're in a nightmare, and you are speaking English but no one understands anything you are saying. Like, they're speaking English too, but it's gibberish, and you keep looking frantically around because the mass murdering psychopath with the CHAINSAW is coming, and people just look at you and start talking about the french fries they had for lunch. And when the mass murdering psychopath with the CHAINSAW finally gets there, the other people are gone, down the hall, still talking about their french fries and you're alone with the madman. No one can hear you even though they are right there, down the hall, within shouting distance. And you're screaming at them, help me there's a mass murdering psychopath with a CHAINSAW in the room with me.
That's what this is all like, and yet we continue on as if there's something, anything, remotely normal about this. As if there is an argument to be made that Trump is doing a good job. The thing is: Trump is doing nothing. It's not that he tried some things and they didn't work. He has done nothing. He doesn't work. Why are we in this pretense?
Trump doesn't work and there is no President. He tweets. He watches tv and rages from his toilet. He then goes on tv and rages while looking exactly as if he's sitting on a toilet:
He talks on the phone to his owner, Vladmir Putin weekly. He calls up other leaders hostile to the United States and makes personal financial deals with them. He calls up our allies and threatens and demeans them.
And then he golfs.
That's it.
This is what a country looks like during a once-in-100-year pandemic when there is no President.
And yet the conversation rages on.
And no one says what is: We don't have a fucking President. We have a jerk-off psychopath who wakes up every morning on a pile of cheeseburger wrappers and asks himself "what's in it for me today"?
This is the art of the deal my friends. And millions of Americans will vote for this. Millions of Americans can't wait to vote for this. You can hand them all the mirrors you want, they can't see their nose.
And this week we found out what everyone already knew. Russia is working to fix the election for Trump, again. The GOP is now a hostile foreign power. And if you say these things people will look at you as if you are crazy, because how can an entire political party be a foreign asset?
When the truth is crazy it's hard to get people to see it. No one wants to live in a world this crazy. So when you are able to see your nose no matter how many people tell you that it's not a nose you are seeing on your face, you've got a problem.
The problem is you're living in a mad world and that whole world is trying to tell you that you're the one who has gone mad.
And eventually, what happens is...you do.
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