long live me! blithers Mad King Donny

what kind of delusional shit is this

it’s becoming apparent that we’ve been looking at this all wrong. Donny Convict doesn’t want to be Agolf Shitler. he doesn’t want to be a Putin-style autocrat, or an Orbán-style neo-Fascist.

oh sure, those rackets are a pretty cool deal, if you can swing it. you’re still the Big Boss. you can still torment the shit out of your enemies, and reward your cronies. you can still demand everyone’s attention, and you can still embezzle the fuck out of your country’s treasury.

but even all that is not enough for Donny. there’s something missing. the needy, insecure fuckwit has a crown-shaped hole in his life. what Donny wants is to be king.

“CONGESTION PRICING IS DEAD. Manhattan, and all of New York, is SAVED. LONG LIVE THE KING!”

oh look, Mad King Donny just SAVED New York, with a stoke of his magical pen. just like he SAVED California by draining a reservoir and almost flooding fragile farmland.

but check out how the megalomaniacal fuck signs off: LONG LIVE THE KING!

and then, to add insult to injury, the official White House not-twitter account not-tweeted this:

what the hell? what American president does this? the very idea that a president would imagine himself to be a king is fundamentally un-American — we fought a whole fucking Revolutionary war about it, remember?

also: how weird is it that the White House already had this artwork on hand, ready to tweet out after Donny’s post?

let’s say that Joe Biden had posted imagery of himself tarted up in a crown. Republicans would have burned the White House to the ground. Comer Fudd would have started shrieking in a register that could only be heard by dogs. but when Donny does it? crickets.

I’m not aware of any clause in the Constitution that says eventually we get a king again.

credit: Jesse Duquette

but this I-am-your-king business makes perfect sense for a lazy narcissist like Donny. he has no interest in governing. don’t pester him with any of this how a bill becomes a law crap. that shit’s for losers. executive orders are the true path forward.

what Donny wants is to sit on a throne, make a few kingly pronouncements — there are only two genders! everyone must wear their underwear on their head! — and then fuck off and play golf for the rest of the day, leaving his Lord Chancellor, the Space Nazi, to deal with making whatever Donny decreed so.

let’s look at some of the kingly shit Donny already believes about himself.

Donny already believes that only he (and his hand-picked goon at the DOJ) can say what the law is.

US President Donald Trump has signed yet another executive order declaring that only the attorney general or the President can speak for the US when interpreting the meaning of laws. According to a report, the order now bars federal regulators or bureaucrats to interpret the law for the US.

divine rule doesn’t get more divine than ‘I am the law.’

and Donny already believes that God has chosen him to lead America.

yeah, that’s such a heartwarming story, about how God altered the path of the bullet so that it only nicked Dear Leader’s ear and slammed right into the head of an innocent bystander, killing him on the spot. what the fuck, God? you would hope that actual Divine Intervention would manifest itself much more peacefully, like making the assassin’s gun jam, so no one gets hurt — but that’s your wrathful, Old Testament God for you: someone’s always got to get smited.

you know who else believes they were anointed by God to lead their country? every fucking king and queen who ever lived, that’s who. they call it ‘the divine right of kings.’

The doctrine asserts that a monarch is not accountable to any earthly authority (such as a parliament or the Pope) because their right to rule is derived from divine authority.

just you wait, eventually Donny’s going to invent his own origin story for why he gets to be king. it’ll be something completely fucking ludicrous, like pulling a golf club out of a lake. and the cultists will eat it up.

I’ve got news for you, Donny. strange women, lying in ponds, distributing golf clubs, is no basis for a system of government.

hey, I’ll bet the New York Times was all up in arms about an American president declaring himself to be a king, right? I mean, that’s got to be pretty alarming shit, worthy of big, screaming Page One headlines, right?

nah, the Times turned it into a lifestyle piece.

President Trump is famous for his love of everything gold and other trappings that connote royalty, whether it be large military parades or extravagant inaugural balls.

thanks for clearing that up, Times, about Donny’s love of gold. we had no idea.

of course he loves gold. he’s a piece of shit who knows he’s a piece of shit, and he uses gaudy totems of what he considers to be luxury to distract himself from his own shittiness.

look at Donny’s penthouse apartment in Trump Tower. overcompensating much?

most actual kings would be fucking embarrassed by this tacky display of poor taste.

meanwhile, Mad King Donny continues to deteriorate. during a long, meandering speech last night, he couldn’t remember Kristi Noem’s last name, or that she’s currently his Homeland Security Director.

“I want to thank Tom Homan and uhhh Kristi uhh, who is just doing, she’s doing a fantastic job, Governor of uhhhhh South Dakota, and Tom Homan, you know.”

and now, here’s Donny BigBrain, coming up with an original idea that no one else has ever before been smart enough to think of.

“we’re going to spend hundreds of millions of dollars advertising how bad drugs are, so that kids don’t use them.”

congratulations, dipshit — you just invented Nancy Reagan’s Just Say No campaign from 40 years ago. Nancy’s big idea was to — are you ready for this? — spend hundreds of millions of dollars advertising how bad drugs are, so that kids don’t use them. and as we all know, the program was a massive success. not one person ever did drugs, ever again.

Donny’s insistence that he alone wields supreme executive power is going to run head first into his own cognitive decline, and the results are not going to be pretty.

how long before we get that decree about wearing our underwear on our heads?

buckle in, it’s going to get super fucking weird.

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here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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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.