Dear Leader’s mind is a tumbleweed-strewn hellscape

scenes from Donny’s batshit Los Angeles visit

Donny Convict inflicted himself on the people of Los Angeles on Friday, because of course he did. why wouldn’t he? after all, the guy knows more about wildfires than all the wildfire experts, so it’s only natural that he should show up and show everyone how it’s done.

so, how did it go?

how the fuck do you think it went? the guy blithered and spewed a lot of stupid shit, and then jetted right out of there, post haste. you’re welcome, California.

listen to this drek.

“we shouldn’t be in a position where you have tumbleweed that’s dry as a bone. that even tumbleweed can be nice and green and rich and loaded up with water and it’s not gonna burn. you don't even have to remove it. it’s not gonna burn. but it’s just dry. so I hope you can all get together and say, ‘I’m so happy with the water that’s gonna be flowing down.”

let’s make a valiant attempt to unpack this firehose of batshittery. first: does Commander Crazypants even know what a tumbleweed is?

tumbleweeds are fucking dead. they come from Russian Thistle — an invasive plant that, when it dies, detaches from its roots and blows around, distributing its seeds. that’s how they become tumbleweeds. there’s no such thing as a “green tumbleweed” that’s “loaded up with water.” that’s not how dead things work. any child who has ever watched a Roadrunner cartoon grasps this concept innately.

Donny still hasn’t figured out that wildfires and forest fires are two different things. it’s just like his confusion about political asylum and insane asylums. all Donny sees is the word “asylum” and away we go on another deranged reverie about Hannibal Lecter.

same deal with “fire” — inside Donny’s head, all fires are forest fires. he probably saw too many Smokey the Bear commercials on TV when he was a kid. Only Donny Can Prevent Forest Fires.

now, why is Dear Leader predicting that Californians will be saying ‘I’m so happy with the water that’s gonna be flowing down’? because he signed an executive order to open up that ginormous fucking Canadian faucet that doesn’t exist, that’s why.

“I’m signing an executive order to open up the pumps and valves in the north. we want to get that water pouring down here as quickly as possible, let hundreds of millions of gallons of water flow down into Southern California, and that’ll be a big benefit to you. look, if you don’t want it, you’re going to tell me, but I can’t imagine it ... we have a lot of water that is available and I hope you can work that out among yourselves, because we show that we have to have that water. you’re talking about unlimited water coming up from the Pacific Northwest, even coming up from parts of Canada, and it pours down naturally, it has for a million years, it pours down, you’ll never run out.”

again with this fever-swamp hallucination.

I know I keep harping on Donny’s fixation with an imaginary spigot, but it’s just completely insane that voters handed the reins of power to a delusional fuckwit who lives in a fantasy world.

water does not flow downhill from Canada and the Pacific Northwest all the way to Southern California, and there is no huge fucking faucet anywhere. not one water management expert on the planet has any fucking clue what Donny is gibbering about.

Systems that divert water back and forth between the United States and Canada exist, but there is no infrastructure, let alone a water system with “a large faucet,” that would directly transport water from Canadian snowcaps to California to help ease its problems.

“There’s no giant faucets here,” Pietroniro said in a phone interview from Canada. “I don’t really understand what he's saying.”

Bryan Karney, a professor with University of Toronto’s department of civil and mineral engineering, agrees “a faucet obviously doesn’t exist.”

Trump’s office did not respond to a request for clarity on what faucet he was referring to.

Global Affairs Canada said in an email to The Canadian Press that it “cannot interpret” what Trump may have meant and would need more details to comment further.

but here comes Donny, signing an executive order with an imaginary solution to an nonexistent problem. you’re welcome, California.

hey, I just signed an executive order, too — it mandates that technicolor pigs start flying out of my ass. let’s see which of our orders goes into effect first.

there was, however, one person present who kept trying to fact-check Donny: Karen Bass, the Mayor of Los Angeles.

look at what happens at the 15-second mark of this clip:

someone reaches over and takes the Mayor’s mic away from her.

what part of there will be no criticism of Dear Leader does Mayor Bass not understand?

by the way, why was Donny’s Slovenian trophy wife part of the presser?

what purpose did her presence serve? is she Donny’s new Emotional Support Female, now that Ivanka’s flown the coop?

Donny used to drag his failed handbag-designing daughter — the one he wants to quote-unquote “date” — everywhere he went. but apparently Ivanka’s had enough of being an international laughingstock, and is nowhere to be found these days.

now get ready for the dumbest fucking idea (this is from a visit Donny made to North Carolina).

“we’re looking at the whole concept of FEMA. I like, frankly, the concept when North Carolina gets hit, the governor takes care of it. when Florida gets hit, the governor takes care of it. meaning the state takes care of it ... I’d like to see the states take care of disasters.”

great, the damned fool wants to shitcan FEMA. Mister Efficiency In Government wants every state to do their own disaster relief. he wants fifty little mini-FEMAs, with no federal coordination. where will already-cash-strapped states get the money do to this? who the fuck cares? it’s not Donny’s problem. you’re on your own, fuck-os.

I have a better idea. how about instead of every-state-for-themselves, what if the federal government had one agency that had its own budget, and employed experts who would decide how and where to allocate resources on an event-by-event basis, depending on need? wouldn’t that be more efficient? oh wait, we already have such an agency. it’s called FEMA, you dumb fuck. leave it alone.

hey, residents of all those red states in ‘tornado alley,’ and the hurricane belt? you voted for this. congratulations.

but let’s back things up, all the way to the beginning of the day — because here comes California Governor Gavin Newsom to teach a master class in how to handle a man-baby. check out this greeting on the tarmac.

look at Gavin’s body language. check out how he takes control, and how he refuses to put up with Donny’s infantile male-dominance handshake.

fuck yeah. this is why Donny hates Newsom — he’s everything that Donny is not: younger, taller, smarter, more handsome, and better at playing the dominance game.

but here’s the best part: Newsom wasn’t invited to greet Donny — but he decided fuck that, nobody snubs me, showed up anyway, and took over.

The newly inaugurated president didn’t publicly invite Newsom to the airport, but the governor said he intended to greet Trump when the president’s plane touched down.

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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.