By David Glenn Cox
The American ambassador to China says Mr. Trump offered to sell American weapons to the People’s Republic. When asked about it, the orange blowhard feigned ignorance. Asking, “You mean Taiwan?” At this point, it would be easy enough to believe the old duffer was confused between the two countries. While at the same time, it would also be easy enough to believe that Mr. Trump’s corruption would allow his confusion to be just a not-so-clever dodge. As Nikita Khrushchev once suggested, “You’ll sell us the rope that we’ll hang you with.”
The number two quit at the FBI after barely a year. Not Krash Patel, the other kind of number two. The second in command. “Run, John boy, run!” Seven federal prosecutors in Florida just resigned. Insisting they were being pressured to charge people with politically motivated crimes they didn’t commit. But more importantly, perhaps, they smelled the rot and decided that now was Not the time to go along. To be the federal prosecutors who resigned from the Trump regime. Rather than being the prosecutors who ruined their careers by going along with the regime’s plans now.
All the signs of rot are there. No telling what might happen next. Maybe now is the time to don your flotation device and head for your lifeboat station. Mr. Trump announced a 15 billion dollar steel mill to be built in Iowa, as if it was his idea or something. Like he had anything to do with it. “Gee, where should we build our new steel mill?” Gosh, I just don’t know. It hurts my head to think this hard. “I know, let’s ask the president! He’ll know what to do.”
The other day, the Trump regime sent up trial balloons about invading Cuba again. Those balloons were quickly shot down from both sides of the congressional aisle. And the complicit jellyfish media quickly obliged, and buried the idea away for them like a cat turd. President defect Trump says, “We won’t need to invade Cuba.” Oooh, look everyone! Look at those big storms coming on the weather map! Better buckle up, everyone! Squirrel!
On Saturday, Mr. Trump attended the Tennessee vs. Texas football game. But due to Mr. Trump’s war on the press, there was no press pool camera available. Instead, the event was covered by those in the stands with their cell phone cameras. Mr. Trump attended the game so as to pretend that he’s still on the ballot. And he is on the ballot, just not in the way he believes he is. Less than one percent of all Republican campaign literature in this cycle mentions Donald Trump and any Republican candidate in the same breath. Run, John boy, run! Run away!
Mr. Trump is trailing a long string of toilet paper from his pants. He can’t run away from the high fuel prices. So, like most insane people, he chooses to hide the body and pretend everything is alright. Everything is okay! “I’m here, everybody! You can begin to worship me now!” Todd Blanche, the future convicted felon and current Attorney General, insists that all Mr. Trump is wanting is “Fair and balanced” press coverage. Would you like some cheese with the whine, sir? Poor Mr. Trump is being picked on. The media blames him for some reason for high energy prices. They blame him for the war with Iran. It’s all just so unfair.
“If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” – Harry Truman
You see? Mr. Trump has a good reason to muzzle the press. They’re picking on him by telling the partial truth! There is an old Adlai Stevenson quote: “If you’ll stop lying about me, I’ll stop telling the truth about you!” As a side note, local diesel prices have declined slightly, while regular gas prices have risen by a corresponding amount. Corporate America, always lending a helping hand! In response, mum’s the word. Shut up about it, shut up, shut up! Think nothing! Speak nothing and, most of all, do nothing! Mr. Trump helps his handpicked candidate in Texas, Ken Paxton, by staying far, far away from him. The rot starts from the head down.
Mr. Trump had a sure winner in John Cornyn, but Cornyn wasn’t Maga enough. “Those were the days, my friends; we thought they’d never end. We’d sing and dance forever and a day. We’d live the life we choose. We’d fight and never lose, for we were young and sure to have our way!” But the sunsets begin to come early in October.
Mr. Trump chose Ken Paxton to endorse. Every state has a Ken Paxton. A corrupt, serial politician that nobody likes or understands how they keep getting elected. Ken Paxton is that guy. A recent poll found that 15% of those Texans who voted for Trump in 2024 intend on voting for Paxton’s rival, James Talarico. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we get in bed with Trump to deceive. Oooh, ooh, that smell. Can’t you smell that smell?
Ben Franklin once said that “Fish and visitors smell in three days.” Fish and Trump smell in less than two years. The tide is going out, never to return, exposing the rocks and shoals of a president beginning to rot from the head down. Democratic strategist James Carville predicts Mr. Trump will be gone from office by April of 2027. Each new day makes me think that perhaps Mr. Carville’s prediction is correct. Mr. Trump’s support is fading like a cheap paint job on a gas guzzler.
Mr. Trump can’t resist campaigning, no matter who it hurts. His star is fading, but he still believes he can win the crowd back. He doesn’t understand or refuses to accept that he’s no longer seen as the answer to the problem, but as the cause of the problem. The Reich wing media do their very best by announcing Mr. Trump’s phony approval rating is now 39% up from 29% in a New York Times poll just last week. Sure? Don’t you believe that Mr. Trump’s popularity could rise so? It’s time for the Kool aid, children! Drink up! This world no longer wants us in it!
Congratulations to Space-X. With just a few engines shutting down here or there, the Starship successfully achieved orbit and then exploded in the Indian Ocean. What a way to end a nearly perfect flight by exploding into a fireball. Of course Space-X is bashful. Every mission is always a success no matter when it explodes. In a Fascist space program, every mission is always a success. That’s why Space-X uses its own private media to ensure that every mission is always reported as a success. That’s why Mr. Trump wants to try it. Oooh, ooh, that smell. Can’t you smell that smell?
“These Republican leaders have not been content with attacks on me, or my wife, or on my sons. No, not content with that, they now include my little dog, Fala. Well, of course, I don’t resent attacks, and my family doesn’t resent attacks, but Fala does resent them. You know, Fala is Scotch, and being a Scottie, as soon as he learned that the Republican fiction writers in Congress and out had concocted a story that I had left him behind on the Aleutian Islands and had sent a destroyer back to find him — at a cost to the taxpayers of two or three, or eight or twenty million dollars- his Scotch soul was furious. He has not been the same dog since. I am accustomed to hearing malicious falsehoods about myself — such as that old, worm-eaten chestnut that I have represented myself as indispensable. But I think I have a right to resent, to object to libelous statements about my dog.
Well, I think we all recognize the old technique. The people of this country know the past too well to be deceived into forgetting. Too much is at stake to forget.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
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