The entire world is laughing at us, and can anybody honestly blame them?
Donald Trump—that hell-spawned, hemorrhoidal, half-witted Heat Miser—gave a “speech” at the UN, although it was really more of a SCREED, and it was every bit the shitshow anybody with a semi-firing synapse could’ve guessed it would be.
He opened by feverishly fellating himself and lying his ass off about the state of the dumpster fire HE’s responsible for—then paused for applause that never came.
Couldn’t get a pity clap from people professionally trained to tolerate bullshit.
The whole planet had to watch him riffing like the day drunk at the corner of the bar in a strip-mall Applebee’s at two in the afternoon, spraying spittle, spite, and spinach dip across the specials menu.
Except nobody could cut him off, and he was threatening a country instead of the assistant manager.
He even found time to pick a fight with an adjective, announcing that we were renaming artificial intelligence “superintelligence” because “artificial” made it sound fake.
Motherfucker, what do you think ARTIFICIAL MEANS?
Your face is the color of a Cheez-It. Let’s not get precious about authenticity.
And don’t worry about reining it in, folks. We just need to change the name. The brakes don’t work, but Donald’s picked out a vanity plate.
What’s the worst that could happen? Somebody uses AI to cook up an extinction-level bioweapon? A little oopsie with the species?
We could wander straight into “Shall we play a game?” territory, but this cantankerous Creamsicle with the intellectual curiosity of a urinal cake was busy fixing the LABEL.
It’s a branding problem, folks. Little PR. Like renaming gonorrhea Super Mario Party.
Your dick’s still on fire, but congratulations, you can now win Rainbow Road.
“Artificial” offended his sensibilities, but annihilating Iran—a country of ninety million people—rolled right off his tongue.
“Or do I annihilate the Islamic Republic and do it quickly…?”
“Do I drive them into hell…?”
At the United fucking Nations.
He was talking about ninety million people like he was getting an estimate from Terminix.
Imagine if an Iranian president stood up there. Imagine if Ahmadinejad had come to the UN General Assembly and said: “Do I annihilate the Jewish state, and do it quickly? Do I drive Israel into hell?”
Imagine the Western response, the global response, the media outcry.
Republicans would’ve been on every channel demanding we bomb Iran before the translator finished the sentence. You know it. I know it. They would’ve understood every word, every implication, every reason a parent might pull their kid a little closer after hearing it.
But when Donald says it, we’re the assholes for being horrified. We’re overreacting. We don’t understand his humor. Well, explain the joke. Explain the funny part to somebody trying to raise a child in the country he just threatened to erase.
But I’m supposed to swallow that because we’ve already swallowed so much, to let yesterday’s disgrace make today’s easier to stomach. It doesn’t. It breaks something in me to love this country and watch him teach the world to fear what we’re becoming.
The president of the United States went to the United Nations and threatened genocide against a member state in front of the world.
Our country’s name is attached to that threat. Iranian children have to live under it.
This is where we’re at.
And from threatening people who have no say in how their country is run, he went straight to slobbering over somebody who keeps his own people that way. Out came the red carpet for Xi Jinping, the honor guard, American B-1 bombers overhead—our military providing the thunder while Donald provided the heavy breathing.
Look at that photograph. Xi barely changes expression. Trump looks like somebody just zipped his balls into a golf bag.
What the hell was that all about, by the way? I’ve seen some interesting chatter online.
And all that American pomp was for a guy whose people can’t vote him out, whose party has the courts by the throat, and whose government can drag its critics off to prison and torture them.
Donald looks at that and wonders why his presidency came with so much goddamn adult supervision.
When China scrapped presidential term limits in 2018, he said, “Maybe we’ll have to give that a shot someday.”
That’s covetous, crotch-quivering, crown-craving envy. He heard “president for life” and needed somebody to slide a menu over his lap. No voters to fire him, no judges telling him no, no obligation to ever pack up his shit and leave.
And we’re supposed to laugh like the guy who tried to overturn an election is kidding about wanting to stop having them.
He even had an excuse when asked about accusations that Chinese companies supplied Iran with satellite imagery before a strike that killed three American troops: “They basically do what we do.”
What the literal fuck?
Three Americans dead, and he sounded like somebody took his parking space at Costco. He had an entire speech’s worth of praise for himself and one shrug for the people who risked their lives under his orders.
And none of it got in the way of the welcome. While our service members fight an illegal, unconstitutional war with no exit strategy in sight, their crepey, concealer-caked, candy-corn-colored Commander-in-Chief is practically pulling a hamstring trying to kiss Xi’s ass.
Where the fuck are the Reagan Republicans? Where is their outrage?
These cowards of convenience have spent years prostrating themselves before this prick, surrendering one principle after another until their patriotism could fit on a lapel and everything else was for sale. He can humiliate America and lick the loafers of despots, and they’ll still insist the real threat is an imaginary transgender child on an imaginary softball team.
They can sniff out communism in a school lunch, these flag-fondling, freedom-fetishizing frauds, but put an actual communist leader beside Donald and watch them swallow their tongues.
A kid gets a free sandwich and it’s the Bolshevik Revolution. Xi got bombers and we’re supposed to appreciate the diplomacy.
We roll out the red carpet for Putin and Xi while we shit on our closest allies daily. The American government under Trump and his cultist Republican Party is a disgrace.
He’s turning our country’s identity inside out—who we believe we are, who the rest of the world sees when they look at us—and taking with him the things we still wanted to believe about ourselves.
And yes, there’s a long, ugly argument that we were already the bad guys, but standing at the United Nations and announcing that he can unilaterally wipe another country off the planet leaves a hell of a lot less room to argue otherwise, especially with an entire Republican Party at his feet, surrendering everything they once swore made us different and leaving the rest of us searching for our country in the things they’re willing to throw away.
Look, I know we’re numb to a lot of this shit. Believe me, I get it. My Instagram algorithm is slow cooker recipes, workout videos, and doomsday prepping at this point. Here’s a chicken marinade. Here’s a glute exercise. Here’s how long drinking water keeps in a bathtub.
I’m trying to make dinner and determine whether civilization has a return policy.
And whether I’m laughing at him or trying not to panic, he’s still up there “representing” our country. Our name. Our reputation. Our national identity.
Future generations are going to watch this footage and wonder if we were all fucking high.
Because a plurality of the dumbest dumbfucks who ever dumbed watched the first term of this shitshow, forgot what a disaster it was, blinded themselves with irrational hatred of other people, and put the motherfucker back in that office AGAIN.
But on behalf of the sane Americans who didn’t vote for this shit and are tethered to the inside of this endless tantrum, please believe me when I tell you:
He does not speak for us.
We are embarrassed. We are angry. We are sick. We are scared.
And we are determined to make this shit right.
Because he does NOT speak for us.
He never has, and he never fucking will.
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