Month: December 2020

He angrily sounds off at all hours about random, nonsensical shite that dehydrated haunted apples like Lou Dobbs and blocks of Spam like Sean Hannity tell him to be angry about but which they realise they cannot actually come to any firm conclusions about both because if they do it gives the story falsifiability and because it puts them at serious risk of legal action. dRUMPf, like the rest of their audience, doesn't understand this, and so bathes luxuriously in the fetid diarrhea that makes up these 'programs,', engaging with them as they are meant to be engaged with- not as conveyors of actual facts, but as impressionist representations of moods. Deeply angry, suspicious, paranoid, hate-filled, bitter, and sociopathic moods.

dRUMPf was never able to explain what "Obamagate" was. He was never able to explain what, exactly, was on "the server" that was in Ukraine. He cannot explain how the election was "rigged". He cannot tell you how Obama faked his entire life as a naturally born US citizen. Logic is nonexistent. Solid conclusions can be disproved by hysteria. The important thing is the feeling of resentment and anger, the outrage that somehow, someone is cheating you out of something that you think not only that you *want* but that you are *owed*. The sense of persecution, the utter conviction that somehow you are being wronged, the phony victim-posturing is addictive for a man so utterly bereft of any positive emotions. It's intoxicating, and dRUMPf is perpetually drunk on it- and sounds very much like he's just ordinarily drunk.

This isn't a man with a plan. This isn't a strategic thinker who talks in riddles and subtly conveys messages through the placement of an accessory in his otherwise flawless choice of dress. This isn't a man given to the intricacies of a Symbolist painting, with everything chosen to display a meaning about the artist and their subject. This is a man who tries to hide his baldness by having what little hair he still has spun into a bizarre confection and piled on his head, then dyed cat-piss yellow with a candy-corn-orange chaser. This is a man who so FEARS being thought of as short he wears lifts that are too high to allow him to fit his feet in his shoes. This is not a man capable of subtlety. This is a man with a button on his desk to summon a servant to bring him Diet Coke.