Trump Has Nobody for Emotional Support

“POTUS is said to be increasingly looking to his wife, Melania, for guidance and emotional support during his second term as president.”

MSN.com

Donald Trump deliberately and systematically filled his Cabinet and administration with grifters, sycophants, and loyalists, who can be counted on to praise his every crazy utterance and support every one of his unconstitutional, and unethical policies. He can rely on them to kiss his fat ass, fluff his flaccid penis, and burnish his tarnished image.

The narcissist has just enough self-awareness to realize he has dementia and in need of a confidant for guidance and emotional support. The moron has just enough brains to realize that he is not going to get any practical guidance or emotional support from his cynical and self-serving staff.

In desperation Trump is increasingly looking to his trophy wife, Melania for guidance and emotional support. Melania maintains a separate residence in New York City and rarely makes a public appearance with him. She swats away his hand whenever he attempts to hold her hand, and she fires an icy stare whenever he attempts any public show of intimacy. He might as well seek emotional support from a blow-up doll.

Trump is a sociopath lacking any empathy and devoid of any charisma, there is not a single person in D.C willing to offer him any emotional support.

He has only two options: get a dog or commit suicide. I hope he chooses the latter, and not the former.

The ‘Happy Trump’ Lapel Pin

Donald Trump is a sourpuss, a grouch, a crotchety old man. When he attempts to smile, the best he can manage is a grimace. The sociopath makes the Grinch look like a goodwill ambassador for the United Nations.

If a miracle happens and he smiles one day, it will be misfortune that befalls an enemy, and not something good that happens to him that will make him finally crack a smile.

Someone, who apparently knows Trump very well, gifted him a “Happy Trump” lapel pin. If anything can make the narcissist smile, it is a likeness of himself that he can wear on his lapel.

The pin features Trump with a cartoonishly large head and open-mouthed expression, notably the “Happy Trump” is not smiling.

Trump who admits that “he’s never happy, never satisfied” was bemused by the lapel pin. The “Happy Trump” lapel pin will likely be sold at a high price once monetized by the grifter-in-chief. When he makes millions from this novelty pin, then he will smile.

We Must Get Rid of Trump Now

In the first year of his second term Donald Trump has already done irrevocable and incalculable harm to our democracy, frayed our relationship with our erstwhile allies, and embraced our implacable enemies.

America cannot survive three more years under the fascist buffoon. America is a police state that summarily executes migrants and protestors, and an international bully that bombs and invades weak nations.

Donald Trump must be stopped. Now.

Donald Trump, 79, has myriad medical issues: senility, cankles, hand bruising, obesity, wobbly gait, incontinence, and high cholesterol. His detractors fervently hope that his dementia and chronic illnesses portend an early death.

But consider that former President Jimmy Carter lived for years with brain cancer before finally dying after 22 months in hospice care. We cannot count on the Grim Reaper saving us from the fascist Trump regime.

We cannot count on a constitutional solution to end Trump’s tyranny, a Senate and House infested with MAGA cultists will never impeach Trump or remove him from office via the 25th Amendment.

How can we get rid of Trump now?

I call for a general strike where workers across all industries and sectors simultaneously stop working to halt economic activity until Trump resigns. I call for tens of millions of Americans to demonstrate and protest until our country comes to a standstill. I call for patriots to treat ICE not as law enforcement officers who must be respected and obeyed, but as Gestapo thugs who have earned our disrespect and enmity.

Wake up!

Trump Es Pura Mierda

When some unspeakable, catastrophic or disgusting evil befalls, you blurt out “shit”, no other word will suffice. If a drunk driver plows into your car, you do not utter a mild expletive like, “Oh, Poop”, you scream, “Fucken Shit.”

An unspeakable evil has befallen our erstwhile great democracy; Trump’s fascist regime has corrupted the judicial, executive and legislative branches of our government. The stench of decadence permeates every aspect of our society.

When we are spiraling into a dictatorship, only a fool or a coward would use euphemisms to describe the current sorry situation. Don’t refer to Trump as complicated, compromised or conflicted. It behooves us to describe him as a steaming pile of human shit, with a mouth that looks like a cancerous sphincter and a neck that looks like a diseased and prolapsed vagina.

If you have the misfortune of stepping on dog excrement, it’s incumbent upon you to yell, “shit.” It is your civic responsibility to warn others, lest they also step on it. We must alert our fellow citizens that our country is shit thanks to Trump, so they will join us in our battle to fight fascism.

When you smell shit it means that you inhale gases that make you gag and sometimes vomit. Fools who support Trump are infected body, mind and soul with his noxious ideology.

We would be well-advised to give Trump and his followers a wide berth, we don’t want to be close enough to smell their bullshit.

Boomers: Put Down Your Smartphones

We are cognizant of the problems associated with children being addicted to smartphones: suicidal ideation from doom scrolling and cyber bullying, sexual dysfunction from consumption of hardcore porn, social awkwardness in public from being immersed in a digital space and social isolation from preferring virtual reality to the real world.

But boomers’ addiction to cell phones is a growing concern for the younger generations who wish their grandparents would stick to rotary phones. According to the Pew Research Center, people 60 and older spend over four hours watching online videos.

I don’t mean to be ageist, but old people are deaf AF, and they have their phone notifications at such a loud volume that it that the ping reverberates around the entire house, including the basement and the attic. To add insult to injury the notification is usually for something fatuous like Aunt Betty sending a text to your grandma reminding her it is Bingo night.

Young people with their dexterous fingers and nimble minds are annoyed as hell when they witness their elderly relatives text with two trembling fingers. They have fantasies of crushing their digits with the rotary phone in the geezers’ living room.

Boomers are gullible and naïve and susceptible to manipulation. Witness the tons of shoddily created AI generated news and videos they send their children that they feel validates their MAGA conspiracies.

Parents, you are justified worrying about the ill effects of cell phones on your children, but you also need to be concerned about your screen-addicted elderly loved ones.  

Go Fly a Kite

One of the simple joys that I fondly remember from my childhood in the 1960’s was flying a kite.

April marked National Kite Month, and I eagerly anticipated the cartoon-illustrated safety booklets handed out in elementary school to get us ready for kite flying season.  

A paper kite cost just ten to twenty-five cents, and basic string was about a dime, so even poor kids could afford to fly kites.

There was no need to assemble anything or use batteries, and flying a kite did not require any special skill or physical strength—so even someone as clumsy as I could make it soar among the clouds.

My brother and I spent countless hours flying kites in Marchbank Park, magically located at the end of our block. On occasion my dad would make a kite from a paper bag and bamboo and join us. My father’s kites did not have any cool designs, and the coarse paper prevented them from flying high, but we were thrilled when dad joined us because it was rare for him to spend quality time with us.

You rarely see children flying the simple diamond shaped kites, it is young adults who fly advanced power kites.

People don’t appreciate the simple joy of flying a kite anymore—just look at how the phrase “go fly a kite” is used as slang to tell someone to go away.  

Trump to be Awarded Next Israel Prize

President Donald Trump has an affinity for dictators, and he practically creams his pants when he meets the likes of Russian oligarch Vladimir Putin and North Korean strongman Kim Jong Un. It’s not surprising that since his second inauguration, he has met with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu six times.

The twice-impeached, adjudicated rapist and convicted felon finds much to admire in the Israeli leader who was indicted in 2019 on charges of bribery, fraud, and breach of trust in three separate cases.

While Trump is destroying democracy in America, Netanyahu is committing genocide in Gaza and the West Bank. When these two like-minded monsters meet, they lavish praise on each other, to compensate for the lack of praise they receive from normal peace-loving human beings.

Netanyahu announced that Trump will receive the Israel Prize in 2026, during a meeting at Mar-a–Lago.

Trump has boasted that he has “ended 8 wars in just 8 months”. His administration played a minimal role in resolving the disputes involving Pakistan and India, Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, Thailand and Cambodia, Armenia and Azerbaijan, Egypt and Ethiopia, as well as Serbia and Kosovo.

Trump deserves credit for intimidating Hamas into releasing the Israeli hostages and for securing a tenuous ceasefire. Although the the wholesale massacre of civilians in Gaza has ended, the IDF has killed hundreds of civilians during the so-called ceasefire.

Regardless how much Trump bitches and complains, I hope the Norwegian Nobel Committee is never intimidated into awarded the Nobel Peace Prize to the fraud.

Boomers: Tell Gen Z to Hurry Up and Take Care of What You Need

When you are old the world stops spinning so fast. Retirement frees you from a schedule, and time feels unchanged. You find yourself captivated by ordinary details you once overlooked: a robin snacking on a worm, the porch flag fluttering in the wind, or soft clouds drifting across the sky…

When I am forced to interact with a young person I feel like I am on a treadmill and I have to quicken my pace just so I will not lag behind.

Before I ask a question of the bank teller or grocery clerk, I always preface my inquiry with an apology: “sorry to bother you”, or “I know you’re busy, so I’ll be quick.”

Politeness is the default mode of the elderly, especially when dealing with the younger generations. Kids today find civility and frequent apologizing annoying rather than admirable. They are thinking, “Ok boomer, just get to the freaking point.”

Even though you are no longer a slave to the clock your time is still important, and just as valuable as that of the young person rolling their eyes at you. The faster you finish your transaction with the blue-haired grocery clerk, the sooner you will be home sipping wine or taking a long drag on a big ass blunt.

Enough with the self-deprecating language and obsequious demeanor! I am going to get with the program and whenever I leave my comfortable abode to run an errand, I will tell any young clerk I meet to hurry up and take care of my old boomer ass.

The Biggest Fatberg in D.C. Should be Named After Trump

When Donald Trump was a real estate magnate, he named hotels, casinos, condominiums, and golf resorts after himself as a branding strategy. He believed that consumers would patronize his businesses in the hopes that his success and luxury would rub off on them.

President Trump is attaching his name to buildings and programs to mark his territory, reminiscent of the way a dog pees on his front yard to warn others to stay away. He considers himself dominant, having launched projects like the Trump Kennedy Center, Trump newborn accounts, Trump Gold Cards for affluent residency applicants, and even a Trump battleship class.  

Trump is acting like a dictator or king, and his penchant for naming everything after himself is really pissing people off.  His critics propose naming either the decommissioned Three Mile Island nuclear plant or an outhouse after him.

Trump is a steaming pile of human feces, with a mouth that looks like a cancerous sphincter and a neck that looks like a diseased vagina. He should be named after the biggest fatberg in D.C.

A fatberg is a massive, solid blockage in a sewer system, formed from congealed fats, oils, and grease that solidify and trap non-biodegradable items like wet wipes, bloody tampons, cum-filled condoms, soiled diapers, and other flushed debris, creating concrete-like masses that can grow to enormous sizes, causing major clogs and overflows.

Removing a fatberg demands significant manual labor and specialized equipment. Removing Trump demands significant effort, such as impeachment or invoking the 25th Amendment.  

If I Ever Say, ‘I Stand with Israel’, Just Kill Me

“Dave Chappelle received widespread praise after revealing a ‘code’ in his surprise Netflix special, telling viewers that if he ever says ‘I stand with Israel’, it means he has been ‘co-opted’ and ‘they got me’.”

Middle East Eye

Chappelle ended his Netflix special with the words “I stand with Israel,” and then dropping his mic. The moment sparked global attention and went viral online.

I don’t have Chappelle’s international platform, my humble unmonetized blog has a core of a few thousand faithful readers.

When I identified as an evangelical, I proclaimed “I stand with Israel” with conviction. As a dispensationalist I considered the Israel of the Old Testament and the modern apartheid regime the same entity. My conviction that God blessed Israel, and cursed everyone who didn’t support her, blinded me to her depravity.

The scales fell from my eyes, and I now recognize Israel as a genocidal regime that has been massacring Palestinians even before it was created through the collective efforts of socialist Zionist leaders, the UN, and the formal proclamation by David Ben-Gurion on May 14, 1948.

Not only do I no longer say, “I stand with Israel,” but my moral conviction compels me to scream “Damn Israel.” This does not make me antisemitic; the Jewish people and the corrupt state of Israel are not synonymous. it is my patriotic duty to rage against the billions my country is giving to a foreign nation to subsidize the extermination of Palestinians.

If I ever write the words “I stand with Israel,” it means that I have dementia, or that Zionists have started co-opting bloggers with a meager outreach.

Turning Point Builds Tent Replica of where Charlie Kirk was Assassinated so Fans Can Take Selfies

“The tent where Charlie Kirk was shot dead was rebuilt at the latest Turning Point USA rally so fans could take selfies.

Streams of people posing inside the tent which looked similar to the one Kirk was sitting in front of before he was shot dead.”

Metro

Charlie Kirk is the most revered martyr of neofascist MAGA evangelicals. These cultists have rejected the kind and gentle Jesus Christ and embraced the vile and vicious Donald Trump as their new Savior.

Kirk was an online provocateur who was as racist, homophobic, misogynist and hateful as Trump. His Christian veneer hardly covered his diabolic heart. In short, he was a pile of human excrement, and only White Nationalist vermin shed a tear when he was assassinated.

During the most recent Turning Point USA rally, fans took photos inside a replica of the tent that Kirk had been sitting in front of before he was fatally shot. They took selfies next to photos of their fallen hero.

Rightwing podcaster Megyn Kelly says she has prayed to Kirk so many times to give her guidance since his death.

Charlie Kirk is dead. When he was alive, he was a stinking pile of feces. Now that he is dead, he is a maggot infested corpse. He will not be answering any prayers.  

I am waiting for a replica of Kirk’s grave to be built, so I can pay him proper respect by pissing on his grave.

Trump Goes on Tangent About Melania’s Panties

“The weave” is a term Donald Trump uses to describe his stream-of-consciousness speaking style, characterized by frequently deviating from a central topic to share seemingly unrelated anecdotes before eventually circling back to the original point.

The master weaver’s topic may be immigration, and he’ll give his MAGA cultists plenty of red meat to chew on, demonizing brown and black undocumented persons as rapists, terrorists, and human traffickers. But he will go off on tangents and rhapsodize about the length and girth of Arnold Palmer’s penis, pontificate on windmills causing cancer or ridicule liberal celebrities.

You never know what idiocy, vulgarity or lie will emanate from Trump’s diseased and demented mind.

Trump went on a lengthy tangent about wife Melania Trump’s underwear during his latest rally. While giving a campaign speech in Rocky Mount, N.C., aimed at reassuring his supporters of the strong economy, he addressed inflation and his initiatives to reduce drug prices. He also referenced Melania’s underwear when criticizing the FBI raid on Mar-a-Lago in 2022.

“They went into my wife’s closet… they looked at her drawers. Her undergarments, sometimes referred to as panties, are folded perfectly, wrapped. They’re like, so perfect. I think she steams them.”

WTF! TMI! KMN!

Trump would be well-advised not to speak about his wife’s panties, when there’s documentation that he’s sexually abused women, and rumors that he’s a pedophile. I’m grateful that the FBI didn’t look at Trump’s drawers, I don’t want to read a description of his urine soaked, feces encrusted diapers.

Christopher Anderson Deserves Pulitzer for Vanity Fair Photo of Karoline Leavitt

Christopher Anderson photographed White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt up close for a magazine series featuring interviews with Susie Wiles, the White House chief of staff.

Devout jihadists have a mark on the forehead, it is a dermatological condition caused by the friction and pressure on the forehead repeatedly touching a rough prayer mat, during the act of prostration.

Devout MAGA cultists have a mark on their nose, it is a brownish orange stain caused by repeatedly kissing Trump’s rectum, during an act of prostration.

The instantly iconic Anderson closeup photograph of Leavitt clearly depicts her nose with a brownish tint. Considering that kissing Trump’s ass is a daily humiliation ritual for Leavitt you would think by now she would take prophylactic action, such as wearing a nose guard, to prevent brown stains on her schnoz.

The unvarnished and unfiltered portrait of Leavitt exposed her weathered and wrinkled countenance, befitting a middle-aged woman. She is only 27 years-old, lying and covering up her Dear Leader’s crimes exacts a heavy price on her looks.

The extreme close-up image shows cosmetic injection marks for lip fillers. I would not kiss her fish lips for a million dollars; I am not going risk exposure to Trump’s anorectal bacteria.

Leavitt is still a young woman, and her face can become normal again, if she quits her White House gig, and stops defending the morally and legally indefensible.

Christopher Anderson deserves the Pulitzer Prize for photography.

Donald Trump’s Obituary

In a fit of nihilism and cynicism the American electorate dumped a pile of human excrement on the White House. Nobody had ever seen such an abomination. It was huge! It was spectacular. It was apocalyptic.

Under any other administration, the EPA would have classified the People’s House as a Superfund site because of its major health risks.

The sulfurous stench enveloped the White House, D.C and every nook and cranny of our democracy.

The load of crap had a mouth that looked like a cancerous sphincter, and a neck that looked like a diseased vagina. Despite its ghastly appearance, a group of fluffers and sycophants regularly cleaned its nether regions.

The American public regretted its shitty decision of elevating this low-life piece of manure to the White House, and every day they prayed that the Grim Reaper might take pity on them and back up a dump truck to the White House and haul away the hill of feces.

Today God performed his second greatest gift to humankind and smote the presidential poop.

We have preserved our democracy!  The stench will eventually dissipate, and we will breathe freely once again.

I know that I am not the only patriot who will hire Russian hookers to piss on his grave.

Trump’s Limp-Wristed Coin Toss Shocks Crowd at Army-Navy Game

The coin toss in a football game is a formal procedure conducted before the start of the game and prior to any overtime period to determine which team will kick off to start the half and which goal each team will defend.

The referee tosses the coin into the air, ensuring it rotates end-over-end. The result becomes clear as soon as it lands on the field.

For important games a celebrity, politician, or retired football star performs the ceremonial toss.

The traditional method for beginning a football game is best described as a “coin flip” or “coin flick,” since only flipping or flicking causes the coin to spin end-over-end.

While officiating the customary coin toss at the 126th Army-Navy game, Donald Trump heaved the ceremonial coin as if he were tossing a cow chip at a state fair in Oklahoma or tossing a bean bag at a cornhole competition.

Trump’s grotesquely tiny, bruised doll hands rendered him ill-equipped to perform the ceremonial coin toss. To make matters worse the octogenarian was wearing gloves, further limiting his dexterity.

To the surprise of no one in the crowd, the coin did not rotate, and it landed with a thud. Trump proudly pointed to the place where the coin landed, reminding me of a toddler pointing to the place on the carpet where he pooped.

Trump is a national embarrassment, he should have been tossed out of the football game, right there and then.

US Could Ask Tourists for Five-Year Social Media History Before Entry

“Tourists from dozens of countries including the UK could be asked to provide a five-year social media history as a condition of entry to the United States, under a new proposal unveiled by American officials.

BBC

My blog is an unfiltered stream of unconsciousness where I eviscerate fascist politicians, expose charlatan televangelists and ridicule vacuous celebrities. My subject matter is the worst of humanity, naturally my essays are replete with vulgar metaphors, expletives and R-rated rhetoric.

My social media posts are so inflammatory that in comparison my essays read as if they were written by a 17th century Puritan preacher. If I ever had to submit my social media history from the past five years to enter a country, I’d never be allowed in.

But my social media posts pales in comparison to those of the Twitter-in-Chief, Donald Trump. His most controversial Truth Social posts include QAnon conspiracy theories, sexually explicit insults, calls to prosecute political rivals, AI-generated imagery, threats and intimidation, and pro-Nazi videos.

How hypocritical of the Trump administration to vet foreign tourists by examining their social media accounts. Trump’s Truth Social feed is unhinged vitriol, and the product of a diseased and demented mind. In a perfect world he would be locked in an insane asylum, and he would never be allowed entry into the real world.

I Love My Old Photo Albums

From my infancy all the way to my senior years, my life is chronicled in numerous photo albums. I still buy disposal film cameras so I can continue to memorialize my life in 35m color film.

My dusty photo albums weigh more than a laptop and they contain hundreds of photos compared to a smartphone that can store tens of thousands. But I treasure my photo albums more than the digital images stored in my cell phone.

Snapping a pic using a smartphone is the epitome of instant gratification. In a split second you see the photo, and in less than a minute you can photoshop or AI edit it to perfection.

In the old days you had to take a roll of film to a drug store and wait days or even weeks to get your developed prints back, with no guarantee they would be good. I remember how satisfied and proud I was of my photographic skills when none of my photos were bad due to blurriness, bad framing, poor focus or bad lighting.

Young people take photos of every mundane moment in their daily lives: their breakfast meal, the antics of their pets, their colleagues goofing off, and a gazillion and one selfies.

In the analog age every snapshot cost money, and we were deliberate about every photo we took. Every print in my photo albums documents something worth remembering: my confirmation in the Catholic Church, my high school graduation, and me as a terrified little kid sitting on Santa’s lap.

Every picture tells a story: when I look at a photo of the little house at 250 Willits Street in Daly City where I grew up in, myriad memories of my siblings and I flood my mind.

Y’all can make fun of me all you want for holding on to my photo albums, but I wouldn’t trade them for the latest iteration of the iPhone that can store tens of thousands of images.

Sleepy Don Dead to the World, Please Just Die

Drowsy Don fell asleep on television this week. Has there ever been a week when the octogenarian was not found napping?

This time Donald Trump nodded off in a meeting with the members of his Cabinet. The pool cameras locked on his drowsy face, while his underlings competed for the title of “chief fluffer.”

Imagine the frustration of his Cabinet members as they realized their boss was sound asleep while they were burnishing his ass? Their demeaning, subservient and humiliating performance all for naught.

I am not alarmed that the President of the United States and putative Leader of the Free World was dead to the world during a Cabinet meeting. Topics of national or global importance are seldom addressed, and a Trump Cabinet meeting doesn’t bring to mind momentous gatherings like King Arthur’s Round Table or the 1919 Paris Peace Conference that concluded World War I.

They are more reminiscent of a circle jerk, or a bukkake scene in a porn flick where an adult actress is drenched in bodily fluids.

Do not blame me for using vulgar metaphors when describing the Trump administration, it is impossible for a pundit to cover his fascist regime without resorting to such language.

It is a shame that Trump is counting Z’s while our country is sliding into a dystopian nightmare, but what is worse: Trump sleeping or Trump temporarily awake wreaking havoc?   

Trump’s ‘Blame Biden’ Strategy Losing its Effectiveness

In evangelical theology Satan is not omnipresent, he is a finite, created being and can only be in one place at a time. Yet evangelicals see the devil’s handiwork in everything from an “anti-Christian deep state”, a liberal academia, an “ungodly” entertainment industry, and even their local Homeowners Association that does not allow them to fly a Christian flag.

Evangelicals believe that only God is omnipresent, yet they function as if Satan has his nose in everyone’s business, and millions of God-fearing folks blame the devil for everything that goes wrong in their lives. Failed personal relationships, career setbacks, financial troubles, illnesses, it is all the fault of Lucifer.

MAGA evangelicals have switched their allegiance from Jesus to Trump, the good news of the Gospel for an ideology where cruelty is the point and their bogeyman from Beelzebub to Biden.

President Donald Trump is almost one year into his second term, and he still blames his predecessor Joe Biden for everything from inflation to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, to the crisis in the Middle East, to the recent shooting of two National Guard troops in D.C.

When Trump blames the latest crisis, whether it is political, economic, or geopolitical in nature on Biden, his supporters shout Amen, and reflexively curse the former president.

But there are signs that the “blame Biden” strategy may have run its course. Trump’s polling has declined, with reduced backing from independents and even some MAGA supporters.  

Everyday Trump looks more like a lame duck, and his tirades against Biden sound hollow and desperate.

The United States is currently facing colossal challenges, and Trump has not acknowledged responsibility despite his party’s control of the House, Senate, and Supreme Court.

In a sane world, even Republicans would rebel against Trump’s chaotic, corrupt, and criminal regime, and he would be removed from office via impeachment or implementation of the 25th amendment.

World opinion, the American public and history will not blame Biden for the disastrous mistakes of the Trump administration. When Trump finally leaves office, even MAGA supporters will curse him and not Biden for the disaster he left in his wake.

Trump Pic Sparks Concern He’s at Death’s Door

A recent photograph of President Donald Trump at Mar-a-Lago depicting him with closed eyes and a gaping mouth has gone viral. The image shows the old geezer in a white polo shirt with “President Donald Trump” emblazoned on it, a red cap with “45-47”, and a place card on the table with his title and name.

Has the stable’s genius’ cognitive ability declined to the point where he needs visual reminders of who he is?

Even the Dear Leader’s staunchest fans acknowledge that this pic closely resembles the myriad online photos of former President Joe Biden, now in his eighties, with his mouth open and eyes shut.

Never mind Sleepy Joe, this viral image reminds me of a catatonic Jimmy Carter at his 100th birthday party with his mouth wide open.

A baseball cap and a polo shirt is the quintessential uniform of an old fart who is always in leisure mode and resides in a nursing home. What a national catastrophe that Trump lives in the White House instead of living in retirement at Mar-a-Lago.

This snapshot has sparked concerns that Trump is not well. No shit, he is not well, mentally, physically or spiritually. They shoot horses, don’t they?

‘ShamWow Guy’ Running for Congress

Offer Shlomi, aka Vince Shlomi, aka Vince Offer, is best known as the “ShamWow Guy” from his glory days hawking the infamous ultra-absorbent ShamWow towel. His infomercials were ubiquitous in the aughts, especially in late night hours.

ShamWow towels were not total frauds; they did absorb a surprisingly large amount of liquid. However, they earned the label “sham” because they did not fully deliver on their sensational promises.

The ShamWow dude is tailor-made for infomercials, televangelism, or politics. He was destined to be a MAGA politician. He has the perfect resume and profile for a Republican candidate: he looks sleazy, has a shady background (he engaged in a brawl with a sex worker in a hotel room), and he is a political novice. He would fit in perfectly with Trump’s carnival of freaks like Kash Patel, Pam Bondi, Tom Homan, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Laura Loomer, JD Vance, Stephen Miller, Kristi Noem, and JD Vance.

The sleazy shyster has filed to run in Texas’ GOP primary, challenging Republican Rep. John Carter, 84, who is seeking another term after more than 20 years in office.

I predict that the ShamWow guy, a spring chicken compared to his octogenarian opponent, will wipe the floor with Carter.

I cannot wait to see his political commercials, they are destined to become classics, just like his infomercials.

Text, Don’t Call

My small house stands out with its welcoming blue color scheme, tasteful exterior ornaments, and a large tree that invites neighbors to say hello as I relax on the porch swing. My humble abode has curb appeal in abundance, but solicitors and even Jehovah’s Witnesses rarely darken my door, and it has been over a decade since kids came trick or treating.

Once upon a time, calling someone was normal and dropping by unannounced was fine. In the digital age people communicate via texting and emojis, and we panic if someone has the audacity to call us, or God forbid, knock on our door announced.

I get annoyed when my phone rings and wonder who skipped texting and called, which I think should be reserved for emergencies. Unfortunately, my sister, whose first impulse is always to call, does not read my essays.

When someone knocks on my door, especially if it is after the sun goes down, I go into panic mode. Is it a serial killer, a home invader, an ICE agent? I recently bought a Ring doorbell, now I can at least see who has invaded my comfort zone, and if the figure appears even slightly menacing, I will silently pray that he will walk away.

I appreciate that I was not interrupted by any phone calls while composing this essay, or it would have had an even more paranoid vibe.  

America to Trump: Quiet, Piggy

Most people, liberals and conservatives, will stipulate that Donald Trump is a misogynist pig. The sexist sociopath has a sordid history of comparing women to animals, he has called them “fat pigs”, “dogs”, and “disgusting animals.” Famously, he called 1996 Miss Universe winner Alicia Machado of Venezuela “Miss Piggy” when she gained weight after winning the crown.

Which is why, when Trump matter of factually said, “Quiet, piggy” to Bloomberg reporter Catherine Lucey, after she had the temerity to ask him a question about the Epstein files, the reaction from colleagues, pundits, and politicians was subdued. Trump has normalized misogyny, the next time a female reporter asks a tough question, I will not be surprised if he silences her by shouting, “Bitch, please.” And I likewise will not be surprised if he gets away with uttering the sexist expletive without suffering any dire consequences.

The White House correspondents should have demonstrated solidarity with Lucey, by demanding that Trump apologize, or else they would boycott all future press conferences.

Trump is the last person on Earth who should be calling anyone a pig, considering he is as fat as a pig, ugly as a pig, and dirty as a pig.

Whenever Trump’s ugly mug appears on a TV, millions of people shout at the screen: Quiet, piggy. Just STFU!

All I Want for Christmas is Mariah Carey

The first time I hear the iconic intro melody of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” it lets me know that the Christmas season has officially arrived.

Little children dream of Santa Claus sliding down the chimney to deliver toys, and they leave cookies and milk to engender his generosity.

I’m old and jaded and I don’t believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, and I’ve lost trust in all major institutions, but I still dream of the Queen of Christmas, sliding down my chimney to give me all I want for Christmas, namely herself.

While children often offer Santa milk and cookies, I make an effort to welcome Mariah by providing a tray of cannabis-infused cookies and a bottle of Cristal champagne.

My nightmare is that Mariah’s delicious ample rear end will get stuck in my chimney, and instead of singing “All I Want for Christmas is You”, she will scream in terror, and her high notes will burst the Cristal bottle and shatter my hopes that she will spend the night with me.

Who am I kidding? Mariah Carey, the Queen of Christmas belongs to the world, and she will not be spending any quality time with me. It is incumbent upon us to pay homage to Mariah, by playing “All I Want for Christmas” on a loop.

Did Trump Blow Clinton?

A virtual mountain of Jeffrey Epstein’s bank records, emails, private correspondence and other documents has been released over the last two decades through various legal proceedings and congressional actions. In November 2025 alone, the House Oversight Committee released over 20,000 pages of emails from the pedophile’s estate.

This treasure trove of decadence has implicated dozens of politicians, business titans, lawyers, British royalty, and Hollywood stars in Epstein’s child trafficking pyramid scheme. It chronicles the age-old story: the insane appetite of rich and powerful men for the tender flesh of underage girls.

Out of the gazillion documents that have been released it’s a March 20, 2018 email from Mark Epstein to Jeffrey Epstein that has the potential to blow up Donald Trump’s administration.

In an email Mark Epstein told Jeffrey Epstein to ask Steve Bannon, Trump’s former chief strategist, if Russian President Vladimir Putin has “the photos of Trump blowing Bubba.”

“Blowing” someone is a slang term commonly used to describe performing oral sex and “Bubba” is a nickname for former president Bill Clinton.

Is the internet blowing things out of proportion or is there really a chance that Donald Trump, who prides himself on being the epitome of machismo, went down on Bubba?

Considering there is video evidence of Trump simulating oral sex on a microphone and rhapsodizing about Arnold Palmer’s incredibly long shlong, I’d say there’s a fairly good chance Putin has incriminating evidence on Trump.

Trump’s MAGA evangelical cult will rationalize and normalize all manner of their orange messiah’s sins including greed, racism, fraud, sexual harassment and even pedophilia. But the homophobes draw a line at sucking dick, especially a liberal prick. No wonder Trump is obsessed with keeping any more of Epstein’s documents from being released. He must have been reminiscing about sucking Clinton’s wiener when he labeled his tax and spending policies the “The One Big Beautiful Bill.”