By David Glenn Cox
As Kevin Costner put it in JFK. “We’re through the looking glass here, people.” Yesterday, I told you of Mr. Son in Law and Mr. Whitkoff’s proposed trip to Islamabad. The Iranian authorities had specially said they would not deal with the diabolic do some, and had no plans to attend. Later in the day, Mr. Trump announced he’s recalling his henchmen, Mr. Son in Law and whatshisname. As if he’s punishing Iran. Well, if you’re going to be that way about it, I just won’t even send them at all.
Trump rebuked, illustrated in the American media as Trump wins again! The Iranians told the administration not to send those two dickheads or the Iranians wouldn’t show up. Explained to the American people as leadership. Mr. Trump withdrew the delegation because of Iranian intransigence. Why are they stupidly wasting time? The Iranians don’t want to talk to flunkies. They want to talk to the manager, the boss man! Why is that so hard to understand?
I guess it’s because a dictator only dictates and knows no other path. The US must bluster and exert outsized authority to hide its weak bargaining position. The strait is still closed and time is running out. But every day you delay, defeat is still a victory. Generating tough-sounding rhetoric is as effective as large-caliber artillery. In another week or two, no one will remember who did what to whom first.
A reporter asked Mr. Trump how long the Iran war would go on. Mr. Trump, in his magnificence, called the reporter stupid. Of course, Trump was correct; who in their right mind would take a job asking morons for their opinions for money and trying to make them sound intelligent? After Trump’s display of senile scatacation and perpetual diaper rash, Mr. Trump deigned to answer the “stupid” mortal’s question.
The Vietnam War lasted 19 years. There, that’s your timeline. This is Mr. Trump playing, “ask me a stupid question and get a stupid answer.” The narcissist plying his trade. All Mr. Trump was required to do was to smile and wave and maybe say something positive. Admittedly, the question was a weak one. As if Mr. Trump, of all people in the administration, might know what’s actually going on. It was an obligatory question required to be asked, while not expecting an exact Thursday at 4:30 Central Time answer.
This is how Mr. Trump treats his guests; can you imagine what it’s like working there? A guy asks a question his boss will chew him out about for not asking, and the President goes off on him. Mr. Trump doesn’t hide his imperial disdain for the plebians much, does he? Like Nero or Caligula. “Go away, boy, you bother me!” The reporter, whatever their other stereotypical handicaps, was merely trying to do their job.
This is the dominant Joe Isuzu Trump personality, the know-it-all character of Trump’s persona. The brash, successful billionaire businessman, TV star and Ellen DeGeneres clone. But the clock is ticking. Come the winds of November, and the old buzzard turns into carrion. The presidential race begins anew, and the roaches will scurry like a kitchen light turned on after midnight. What happens when the spotlight shifts to the new heir apparent and Mr. Trump is in it? Mr. Trump loves that spotlight; can he give it up peacefully and voluntarily?
Setting the stage, if Democrats take the House and Senate to the spectacle of a presidential campaign and impeachment hearings, all at once! For Republicans, it’s a nightmare scenario. Running for office while the focus of the race remains on the lame duck in office. The Republican agenda is defending what Mr. Trump did, rather than a positive bullshit spin message of what Republicans can do for you in the bright future. Donald Trump rides piggyback on the back of the poor Republican presidential nominee.
Gee, it’s really too bad, isn’t it? If only there were some way of making all this bad Trump press about Epstein go away? Mr. Trump is nearly eighty. Old people have a lot of accidents, don’t they? They fall out of windows and they accidentally ingest deadly spider venom. If only, there were some way to change the election narrative, not to include Donald Trump. Sleep well, Donald.
What happens when you pull the keystone from an arch? What happens when you take out the principal of a criminal cabal? They turn on each other. You can see that happening already with the defections into the anti-Trump camp. Look at Shady JD’s future. Technically, at least, he’s the Republican frontrunner. But what does that even mean? Who will stand to oppose him? Who wants to work their ass off for a year, spend hundreds of millions of dollars on a losing presidential bid? Who must Shady JD defeat to win the vaunted Republican nomination? Vivek Ramaswamy?
JD is cornered and flocked. He must run for President while distancing himself from the administration he took part in. If there were only some way to start over with a clean sheet of paper? If only Mr. Trump wasn’t around anymore, gumming up the political landscape. These aren’t the good old days. This is about a political liability and billions and billions of dollars of billionaire wealth. And about an elder gentleman who has basically used up his usefulness to the machine and whose time has run out. And now, as they say in the mafia movies, “Somebody needs to go.”
Trust not your noble thane; trust not the slumbering guards. Trust not the physician with his incantations and potions.
SCENE I. A desert place.
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
This Carbon Based Life 
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