By David Glenn Cox
Okay, it should be clear for all to see. In a sane country it would be obvious, in a sane country. The cheese has slipped from the cracker and hit the floor. The cracker itself has crumbled to dust and splinters and followed the laws of gravity. The orange ape is enraged and thrashing about his cage. Why did I retweet fire Dr. Fauci? Because I, because I, because you’re a bad person and you work for a fake network and your daddy smells and your mother wears army boots.
Where is that line? Nixon liked to catch a whiskey buzz and talk to the Presidential portraits on the walls of the White House. History has failed to record whether Nixon thought that they talked back. Have no doubts; Nixon was losing it, but Nixon was a control freak. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t chasing butterflies with a net wearing a pink tutu crazy. He was crazy enough to know that he’s crazy and to try and act normal, so that people couldn’t see he was crazy!
In our case, we have a patient of interest number one. A very stable genius. An overweight, multiple marriage genius. A six-time bankrupted genius. A genius who hired a ghostwriter to write a book saying he was a genius. A genius who gets his facts wrong most of the time. A genius with an attack dog mentality, but the cracker has now crumbled, and the cheese will hit the floor.
The insane orange clown posse has hit a new low with their not ready for prime-time North Korea propaganda film. (Now with more Winston Smith!) All Hail der Leader!
Something really pissed him off, reality was impinging on his delusion. Did he want to fire Fauci? Of course, he did, but public pressure prevented it for now. I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too! We know where this path leads, clean out your desk and use up your vacation time. But to the man who put the dick in dictator this is small potatoes. As they say in Saudi Arabia, just schedule the beheadings and be done with it.
The Cheeto told the nation’s governors to get your own ventilators. Then he told them he wasn’t responsible and that he was a secondary source. The governors east and west begin committees to develop plans to move forward and reopen society post pandemic. A sane President would make a call, anything I can do to help you fellows just let me know. But to the Cheeto, the other kids went fishing without him. He was the loudmouth fat kid who talked too much and got left on the dock rod and reel in one hand and tackle box in the other.
Moses in orange face he appears orange red. I am your Cheeto and you shall have no other Cheeto’s before me! I am the god of hell fire! I’m king of the world! Marshal Ney prepare the troops, tomorrow we take Toulon. Excuse me, Mr. Lincoln, have you read my book? It says I’m a genius! Ask my wives, they’ll tell you! The Cheeto broke the number one rule of crazy, never let them see you’re crazy.
This is clearly the act of an unwell individual. Petulant because the big kids won’t play with him, he declares sovereign reign over the entire sandbox. They need me, they’ll come to me one way or another. Yes, and you need them. This is a government, not a hostage negotiation with the Symbionese Liberation Army. Snarling and combative with the press Mike Pence attempts to translate the crazy talk into sanity speak. He is Renfield, the servant of Dracula, “Yes, I think what my master was trying to say was fly’s, I need more fly’s master! The master is all powerful and you should listen to him. Please master more flies!
Without a single shred of documentation, the Cheeto declares the Constitution null and void and believes it because he wants to believe it. The sun shines at his discretion he is the Sun King.
Surrounded by sycophants, he becomes more and more detached from reality. Bill Barr said in a recent interview, he thought the media was having a Jihad against Trump because of his support for unproven drugs. Good Dog! Now sit! Sit up! Now rollover! Barr would declare six to be nine if the Cheeto wanted it. He’s the slobbering Poncho to the Cheetos orange Cisco. The willing Hutch sliding across the hood of Starkey’s Torino like Ernst Roehm. In the palace of whispers, none dare speak.
Amendment twenty-five is off the table. We’ve tried impeaching the motherfucker to no avail. So, this is what we get. The failure of the legislative branch compounding the failure of the executive branch. A government of the Cheeto by the Cheeto for the Cheeto.
A red-faced demagogue, Silence! I am the all-powerful OZ. I don’t have to answer questions like that from the likes of you! Who do you think you are asking me why I tweeted Fire Faucci when I have no intention of firing him…today.
This is a cracked pot. He believes that he is King of the United States. He believes that his ideas and opinions are beyond questioning and reproach. Many dictators feel that way but the difference here is he believes. He believes he can jump in and jump out when it suits him. Say, not my responsibility and it’s not your responsibility! Say, I’m all powerful and you’re all powerful. Pin a bath towel to the back of your Pj’s and you’re Superman!
We know that the President can be removed for physical disability but what about when the little orange trolley doesn’t make it back from the neighborhood of make believe? Who makes that call?