Category: 2026

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What An Asshole

From Palmer Report:

Robert Mueller passed away yesterday. Unfortunately for him he’ll be best remembered for leading a historically crucial investigation into how Donald Trump and Russia stole the 2016 presidential election, only for his investigation to ultimately go nowhere. But before that, Mueller was a strong FBI Director, and before that he was a decorated Vietnam combat veteran. You can easily criticize his work later in life, but you’d be hard pressed to criticize his character or his patriotism. And if you were stupid enough to do such a thing on the day Mueller died, you’d make yourself look unbelievably bad.

That’s why, when someone sent a supposed screenshot yesterday of Donald Trump responding to Robert Mueller’s passing with “Good, I’m glad he’s dead,” I initially assumed it was a fake. But then I went to Trump’s Truth Social site, and sure enough, he actually posted that. Trump actually said “I’m glad he’s dead.” In those exact words. In public. While sitting in the White House. Which he recently partially bulldozed.

If it’s starting to feel like there are no words to describe Trump’s behavior these days, that’s because there really are no words. Except maybe one: asshole. Yes, it’s crude. It’s an easy cheap shot. But how else can one possibly describe the manner in which Trump is now behaving? Yes, he has severe dementia. Yes, he’s increasingly angry at the world because he appears to be near death himself. And yes, he’s a corrupt and evil person who’s done more damage than anyone in American history. But Trump is also something on top of all that. He’s an asshole. Here’s the thing though.

What we’re seeing over the past month or two seems to be new territory even for Trump. When another decorated Vietnam combat veteran John McCain passed away several years ago, Trump initially refused to lower the White House flag to half mast. And when the great Rob Reiner was murdered a few months back, Trump suggested Reiner was to blame for his own death. These were hideous, spiteful, tasteless reactions to the deaths of broadly respected people. But at the time, Trump didn’t go so far as to say “I’m glad John McCain is dead” or “I’m glad Rob Reiner is dead.”

This is a whole new level of disgustingness from an individual who already long ago firmly established himself as one of the most disgusting people in history. As Donald Trump’s cognitive problems and physical health continue to bring him closer to his end, his behavior has become more distasteful than ever. It’s not going to get better. Perhaps deep down Trump knows that when he himself succumbs to his failing health before too much longer, billions of people are indeed going to say “Good, I’m glad he’s dead.” And they’ll have more than earned the right to say it.

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“I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

These words are a continual presence these days.
I hear them a couple of hundred times a day in one form or another.
I read them in desperate social media outbursts.
I overhear them in coffee shop conversations.
I find them in my inbox from friends and from strangers.
I hear them in my own head.

They are the symptoms of a shared sickness we now find ourselves afflicted with: a sprawling homegrown mental health crisis. They are part of a growing national neurosis brought on by a continual assault on decency, sanity, and goodness by those in power.

Mental health is a daily battle, even on our best days.

During any given year in America, one in five adults (nearly 68 million people) experiences mental illness; 10 million of these people finding their lives fundamentally impacted by their internal, invisible maladies.

The personal toll of these diseases is almost incalculable: debilitating mood disorders, propensity toward addiction, susceptibility to physical illness, and regular feelings of isolation and hopelessness.

Nearly 50, 000 people die here by suicide each year, with 25 attempts for each of these deaths. Many of these premature passings have direct or indirect lines to undiagnosed, untreated, or treated but ultimately insurmountable sickness. At any given moment, tens of millions of people are fighting a battle in their own heads, just to stay here.

This is all under normal circumstances, and these are not at all normal circumstances.

These are days that tax people’s already burdened mental defense systems and emotional reserves by relentlessly targeting their places of vulnerability:

the real and manufactured emergencies designed by our leadership.
the daily, incessant legislative attacks on vulnerable people groups,
the normalized acts of violence this president not only tolerates but incites,
the untethered behavior regarding matters of national security, international relations, environmental stewardship, and human rights.

Our leadership is mentally unwell and lots of good, already hurting people see it clearly. They understand the gravity of these moments for our nation and they are rightly terrified by the lack of accountability, the absence of conscience, and the poverty of empathy.

Men and women, already prone to depression and anxiety, those normally driven to despair without any discernible cause or reason, now also have objective data that makes that hopelessness quite sensible.

The MAGA movement is making otherwise mentally healthy people emotionally sick and making already ill people much worse.

And a growing number of otherwise well people are developing a form of PTSD from continual exposure to a group of people in power whose malevolence and contempt for life are beyond comprehension. They, too, are finding the space within their own heads to be a dangerous one as they live within it all and try to make sense of senseless cruelty.

What’s worse, the GOP’s boundless assaults on human rights, their vicious crusades against science, their continual gaslighting of otherwise sensible people, and their reckless fake news conspiracy theories, aren’t just making those who oppose them prone to head sickness; they’re doing the same to their supporters.

Republican leaders are playing on their own rank-and-file’s paranoia, instability, and fear; ratifying their latent or active neuroses, and justifying the ways they now act out in both emotional and physical violence.

We are seeing daily acts of aggression in schools, churches, subways, city streets, and grocery stores by people whose own illnesses and frailties have been triggered by the incendiary language and calculated lies continually perpetuated from the top. If there is such a thing as Trump Derangement Syndrome, these are its symptoms.

America is sickly, and this regime is perfectly fine with that.

It’s no coincidence that the Trump Administration has drastically reduced funding for mental healthcare and removed barriers to ill people accessing firearms. This cocktail of chaos is what it thrives upon, traffics in, and desires.

In an environment populated by emotionally fragile and mentally unhealthy people, it’s much easier to act without accountability and to continue to take away resources, personal liberties, and human rights without recompense.

Mental illness is rarely treated with the same urgency and seriousness as physical illness, and the dismissal is even more profound in days when people feeling deep sadness and great empathy for others are derided as weak, overly emotional, or too sensitive. The callousness of these days makes brain maladies trivial, or worse, worthy of ridicule.

The President and those who support him in Congress are counting on exhausted people growing too weary from pushing back, too overwhelmed fighting their inner demons, and too hopeless to go on.

We can’t allow that.

We need to keep our eyes and ears open to the pain of others right now: to hear the suffering in their words or that is buried in their silence, and to move toward it.
We need to linger long enough to see people who are hurting; to notice their withdrawal and absence, and to make sure they’re OK.
We need to use the resources currently available of therapists, doctors, and counselors who understand these invisible sicknesses and how very real they are.
We need to gather in community to bolster and encourage one another, and to remind people that they aren’t alone in the wars they wage to get better.
We need to reach out to people in our own despair, in our sadness, in our own fight to stay here.
And we all need to carry one another and care for one another, realizing that the GOP has no desire to, and in fact is doing willful damage to the people they have sworn to protect.

We are not well, America.
Many of our leaders are really not well.
The sickest and most damaged among them sits in the Oval Office.
Together, we need to oppose the ugliness that collectively threatens us.
We need to care for our health and the health of those around us.
We need to work and vote to purge our nation of the curators of this chaos, so that we can get well together.

 

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How can anyone still support him?

Tens of millions of us still find ourselves asking this question, watching a staggering number of Americans somehow remain unflinching in their devotion to this President. Despite high crimes, sexual assaults, cognitive decline, reckless wars, and an authoritarian agenda, they remain seemingly giddy over his existence.

But Trump’s supporters aren’t necessarily pleased with the actual policies, tactics,
or methods, but with the results: pissing off the people they don’t like.

That is all that matters to them.
It’s the reason they vote the way they do.
It’s the reason their support is steadfast through pedophilia accusations and acts of treason and human rights disasters and wanton ignorance.
It’s the reason they remain emotionally infatuated with him despite his breaking every campaign promise.

Trump supporters have always seen his ascendency as a big “F— You” to his predecessor, to the identity politics that they feel has targeted them, and to an ever-diversifying nation that they see as a threat. More than affordable healthcare, unpolluted food, and economic opportunity, they want someone to stick it to the world on their behalf, and in their rage-addled state, they somehow believe he does that.

It’s a nationwide mental health crisis that seems both beyond repair and belief.

It’s terribly sad to admit that a huge portion of this nation is moved not primarily by party over country (which would be bad enough) but by spite: that they care more about flipping Democrats the bird than the sovereignty of our nation. To know that people you respected and loved and work with live with anger as their engine is a reason for mourning.

MAGA voters would rather give a strident middle finger to woke liberals, even at the expense of the air their kids breathe and the schools they attend.

They’d prefer to “own the Libs,” even if their medical bills bankrupt them, and businesses migrate away, and natural disasters go ignored.

Their white fragility is so profound that two years ago, they gave Trump another blank check because he’s reversing any recent advances by marginalized communities whose gains they see as threats to their own.

They still feel victorious, even though gas prices are astronomical, we’re immersed in chaos, nothing is trickling down, and America is not first.

Even professed Christians among them are willing to abandon any semblance of Christlikeness because they get back the nostalgic veneers and ceremonial trappings of God and Country that Obama couldn’t satisfy because of his pigmentation and his embracing of the world and its religions.

And so these people are now subsiding on Liberal tears and complete denial.

That is the only barometer for them in this moment of what is good, wise, or productive. It guides their vote, filters their media, defines their faith, and shapes their hearts. That’s why arguing policies or stating facts or attempting constructive conversation with them right now is almost impossible, because spite is irrational and stubborn and unmovable. It wants emotional food that feels good, even if it is filled with empty calories.

The only course of action right now is for those of us motivated by things otherthan revenge and payback and vitriol to be clear, loud, and unified.

We need to reach across all the divides, and to be about what we’re about, and to declare these things with clarity and without relenting or apology.

Our intent should no longer be understanding these people who are still emotionally bound to him. We do understand them. We’ve listened to them. That’s why we know that they cannot be convinced by any previously used methods to connect with rational people. Their blind hatred of the Left and their complete adoration of this President make them, practically speaking, unreachable currently.

They also remind us who we do not want to be.

Being motivated by spite is a really horrible way to go through this life, which is why the rest of us can’t make our response now be about these people and the angry wars they want to stay immersed in. It cannot be shaped by our grievances and complaints and purity stances either. We need to gaze higher than that.

The human and civil rights of our people, the future of our children, the integrity of our nation, our standing in the world, and the defense of our Constitution are all far too important to squander as a middle finger to people we want to piss off.

We’ve seen what that yields.

We need to live and work and vote for equality, diversity, compassion, love, and justice—not for spite.

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I still remember the precise moment I stopped believing in hell.

Over two decades ago, I was at a Christmas dinner party in the home of a gay couple. From the outside, it looked like any holiday gathering: a warm, beautifully decorated room filled with people laughing and telling stories in the soft glow of the tree, while the silky voice of Johnny Mathis wafted through the air along with the heavenly cocktail of aromas from a well-used kitchen.

Most of the guests that night happened to identify as LGBTQ, which hadn’t really occurred to me until, as I smiled and surveyed the room, a sickening thought rudely interrupted: “Many Christians believe that these beautiful people in this room (other than my wife and me) are all going to hell. For no other reason than their gender identity or sexual orientation, every one of them is doomed to spend eternity beyond this life in perpetual torment at the hands of a God who apparently made them, put them here, and loves them passionately.”

And as a Christian and a pastor, I was supposed to believe and preach this, too. It simply no longer rang true for me. I couldn’t reconcile this with the character of an infinitely loving Creator. I lost hell right then and there.

And after that moment, I began taking note of the vast multitudes I’d also been taught were similarly condemned:

My Jewish friends from the gym.
The Muslim couple down the street from our home.
The gay couple I’d once worked for in college.
My atheist friends from high school.
My non-Born Again classmates from childhood.
Every non-Christian who ever lived.
Thousands of authors, musicians, philosophers, and thinkers have inspired me.
Gandhi, Buddha, and everyone from their faith traditions.
An estimated 69 percent of the people on the planet right now. (around 5.6 billion of them).

Lots of good human beings are in hell, and many more are on their way, at least, according to Evangelicals who seem all too happy about that fact.

Over the course of my life, I’ve met or known of so many brilliant, funny, giving, caring people, who for thousands of different reasons can’t or won’t declare themselves Christians, and the idea that God condemns them simply for that fact feels far more human than divine to me now. It seems more like the mind of people who are determined to exclude, judge, and shame. Hell doesn’t feel like the logical construction of a God who is Love, but of human beings who are hateful.

Few things get Christian leaders as excited as forecasting damnation for other people. It rallies their bases, gives them a common enemy to rail against (gays, Muslims, Atheists, Democrats, drag queens, etc.), and leverages the fear that we all have that God may be out to squash us. It’s also a big religious business, which doesn’t hurt.

And there’s a trickle-down judgmentalism that reaches the pews too, allowing ordinary, incredibly imperfect people to believe themselves safe from divine prosecution because they’ve said the magic words, and to simultaneously feel superior to those they can condemn from a distance based on any number of perceived things that disqualify them from Heaven: their sexual activity, their faith perspective, their political affiliations, their nation of origin.

Not long after this experience, I shared a social media post about being resigned to my own eternal punishment, and I received replies from all over the world; people from every walk of life, every life stage, of every religious tradition and color and orientation, who all expressed a similar sentiment:

I’ll see you there!

And that’s the recurring thought I often have now as I cross paths with people who I once believed were condemned, as well as those who confidently almost joyfully condemn them: If Heaven is supposedly filled with such petty, self-righteous, hypocrites, it doesn’t sound all that much like Heaven to me, and if so many beautiful, life-giving souls are surely bound for Hell, it seems like it’ll be one helluva time.

I received a gift at that Christmas party nearly twenty-five years ago. I found myself freed up to see people as they were: for their inherent worth and equally flawed beauty, none deserving of eternal torment, and each one like me: doing the very best that they could to be decent and loving and kind and to treat people well. I’m pretty sure God will be cool with that.

I’m well aware that many professed Christians believe that my doubts about the existence of hell all but guarantee that I’ll spend eternity there, and I’m sure that with great pride or pity, many will comment as such. But from the looks of it, I’ll be in good company in my hot-and-humid eternity, and I won’t have to look far to find diverse, loving humanity when I get there. I look forward to weeping and gnashing teeth alongside all the compassionate, creative, and open-hearted people who weren’t good enough for Evangelical afterlife, which is just as well.

The clearer the image of these people’s Heaven becomes, the less and less trepidation I have of my soul’s resting place somewhere outside of it.

Receiving their damnation actually begins to feel like dodging a bullet: I’ll be avoiding them.

To quote one of my favorite songwriters, the great Frank Turner:

And we’re definitely going to hell—but we’ll have all the best stories to tell.

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Midweek Tiedrich

barely a day goes by when America’s Mad King — or a member of his royal court — doesn’t find some new way to cordially invite We the People to go fuck ourselves.

this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. not one thing any of these goniffs do makes us safer, or healthier, or more financially secure. it’s been that way since day one, and it will remain that way until every last one of these thieving bastards is finally removed from power.

what is surprising, however, is when one of these shit-sticks admits it.

which brings us to today’s Exhibit A: White House Energy Vampire Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett.

let’s watch in astonishment as Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett actually says the quiet part out loud.

“if [the war] were to be extended, it wouldn’t really disrupt the US economy very much at all. it would hurt consumers, and we’d have to think about what we’d have to do about that, but that’s really the last of our concerns right now.”

there it is — Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett gives away the whole game right there in those last few words.

helping consumers who are hurting is ‘really the last of our concerns right now.’

no fucking shit, Sherlock, we’ve noticed. everything Donny does is for the benefit of himself, and his gazillionaire cronies. are you a tech bro, or a media baron, or an oil magnate, or a crypto scammer? awesome, you get a seat a the table. try not to let the Space Nazi bother you. he’s higher than a fucking kite right now.

are you a consumer, struggling to make ends meet as the price of goods and services skyrockets? well, then fuck you. you don’t get a doll.

do you think Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett even takes notice of the price of gas? absolutely fucking not, he’s got a driver whose job it is to keep the limo’s tank full.

every time one of Donny’s dipshits opens their mouths, they practically write a Democratic campaign ad. it’s a fact that’s not lost on California Rep. Ted Lieu.

“I’m going to quote for you what the director of the National Economic Council, Kevin Hassett, said on national TV. he said that hurting consumers is, quote, the last of our concerns.’ so I want the White House to send Kevin Hassett to every single TV channel and to every single swing House district where he can tell the voters of America that hurting consumers is, quote, ‘the last of their concerns.’”

word.

by the way — have you noticed that every time Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett is on TV, rain or shine, he’s standing on the grounds in front of the White House?

I shit you not, check it out:

do you know why that is? it’s because Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett is indeed an energy vampire, and that’s the thing about vampires: you have to invite them in. otherwise, they have to remain outside. don’t ask me what that’s all about, I don’t make the rules.

Holy Mike Johnson can’t help but mumble the quiet part out loud, either.

reporter: “can you give one example of fraud in a previous election that the SAVE America Act would stop?”

Holy Mike: “look, we’re not gonna litigate all that.”

god bless the reporter who asked that question, because it really cuts to the heart of the matter: this fucked-up election-rigging SAVE Act will do nothing to prevent election fraud — because election fraud is not a problem. there is virtually no ‘election fraud’ in America. it’s a rounding error away from zero. Donny has been convicted of more felonies than there have been proven cases of ‘election fraud.’

every reporter needs to be asking every Republican the same question Holy Mike couldn’t answer.

now it’s Senate Majority Leader John Thune’s turn to say the quiet part out loud.

the SAVE Act is in the Senate now, where it seemingly has a snowball’s chance of passing — because there just aren’t 60 votes in favor of it.

the MAGAsphere is screaming at Thune right now to shitcan the filibuster, so the SAVE Act can pass— but Thune’s got a good reason for not nuking the filibuster, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

“throughout history, it has protected Republicans and conservative priorities and principles a lot more often than it has protected Democrats.”

it’s true. Republicans have perfected the art of using the filibuster to block any legislation that would improve the lives of We the People.

isn’t that right, Glitch McConnell?

Glitch? hello, are you there?

as for Little Donny No-Filters, there’s no such thing as the quiet part.he’s just a lizard brain-stem hard-wired to a set of vocal cords that talk first and think never.

it’s taken Donny only 48 hours go from ‘someone please help me win this war’ to ‘everybody’s coming to help me win this war’ to ‘fuck you, I don’t need anyone’s help to win this war.’

Because of the fact that we have had such Military Success, we no longer “need,” or desire, the NATO Countries’ assistance — WE NEVER DID! Likewise, Japan, Australia, or South Korea. In fact, speaking as President of the United States of America, by far the Most Powerful Country Anywhere in the World, WE DO NOT NEED THE HELP OF ANYONE! Thank you for your attention to this matter. President DONALD J. TRUMP.”

that is hysterical. not one of our allies wants to bail Donny out of his disastrous Operation Epic Bed-Shit, and the sudden realization of it is causing him to him melt all the way down. he’s like a child going ballistic because he just found out he didn’t get invited to a birthday party.

YOU CAN ALL GO FUCK YOURSELVES, BECAUSE DONNY NEVER WANTED YOUR HELP IN THE FIRST PLACE.

fuck you, NATO — you don’t get a doll.

fuck you, too, Japan — no doll for you. same deal, Australia and South Korea. you all fucking suck, and nobody gets a doll.

who know who else doesn’t get a doll? Ireland.

reporter: “the Irish president has said your war against Iran is illegal and an attack on international law.”

Donny: “who said that?”

reporter: “the Irish president.”

Donny: “look, he’s lucky I exist. that’s all I can say.”

he?

Donny has no idea that the President of Ireland is a woman, Catherine Connolly.

Donny doesn’t know shit about shit — and he doesn’t care. he never does the reading, never prepares, and has the attention span of a coked-up squirrel.

he’s an embarrassment to his country — and to the entire world — every single day of his shithole presidency.

but at least the ignorant fuck wore a nice green tie on St. Patrick’s Day. so there’s that.

which bring us quite smoothly to our heroes of the day: the good people of Ballinrobe, County Mayo, Ireland, who put the Dead Pedo Bestie Files front and center during their St. Patrick’s Day parade.

fuck, yeah — let’s gif that shit for posterity’s sake.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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Happy St. Patrick’s Day

A little splash of emerald magic in the middle of a Chicago! ????

Each year, during the St. Patrick’s Day celebration, the river running through Chicago transforms into a ribbon of Emerald green. The tradition began in 1962, when members of the Chicago Journeymen Plumbers Local 130 figured out a way to use a special dye to color the water as a tribute to the city’s proud Irish roots.

The color only lasts a few hours, but the spectacle feels like a bit of playful urban alchemy. Boats pause, crowds lean over the bridges, cameras flash, and suddenly the river looks like it wandered out of a Celtic legend.

Today the dyeing is one of the highlights of Chicago’s massive St. Patrick’s celebrations, right alongside the parade and the sea of green hats, scarves, and laughter that fills the streets.

A river turned shamrock. Not bad for a Saturday morning tradition. ☘️✨

Happy St. Patrick’s Day & May the luck of the Irish be with you.☘️????☘️
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This Is How Far We’ve Fallen As A Country

What happened to our “Can-Do” attitude?

What if one of America’s boldest “new” ideas for affordable housing was hiding in plain sight…in a 1930s suburb outside Cincinnati? Meet Greenhills, Ohio – a New Deal–era “greenbelt town” dreamed up during the Great Depression (construction started in ‘35 and residents moved in ‘38) as a federal experiment in healthier, lower‑cost living for working families…as part of a resettlement effort, Greenhills was one of only three model communities (Greenbelt, MD and Greendale, WI) built by the U.S. government to test whether good design, green space, and modest rents could tackle overcrowding and slum conditions in nearby cities…curving streets, superblocks, and shared courtyards pulled homes away from traffic…simple brick and stucco rowhouses, duplexes, and houses face parks instead of parking…the idea was radical and controversial: community first, cars second…rents were set to be affordable to working‑class households, but what residents “bought” went far beyond four walls…they got walkable access to schools, shops, recreation, and lots of open space…housing policy, urban design, and public health were all baked into the ideals of Greenbelts and the Greenhills plan…today, Greenhills is a National Historic Landmark and a case study in both the promise and fragility of design‑driven affordability, and early housing policy rooted in segregation and discrimination…in the past 10 years a struggle has emerged over those that want to keep it as originally designed and others that support demolition and redevelopment…housing—especially affordable housing—is a constant challenge, now and in the 1930s.

[source]