Preznit Fuckwit just admitted that he doesn’t give a shit about your financial situation

and he verbally abused another woman reporter

hey, folks? you’re not going to believe this, but lying liar who lied about bone spurs and lied about hush money and lied about his dead pedo bestie and lied about how tariffs work and lied about being able to point to a camel and lied about his weight and lied about his golf scores and lied about his wealth and lied about a hurricane and lied about a pandemic and lied about his taxes and lied about a million other things just accidentally committed an honesty — perhaps for the first time in his lying life.

reporter: “to what extent are Americans’ financial situation motivating you to make a deal [with Iran]?”

Donny: “not even a little bit … I don’t think about Americans’ financial situation, I don’t think about anybody.”

and there is it, folks.

fueled by blind rage and rapidly advancing cognitive collapse, Preznit Fuckwit blurts out the truest thing he’s ever said. he doesn’t give a shit about your financial situation — or anything about you, for that matter.

Donny doesn’t think about anyone else — only about himself. that’s how malignant sociopathy rolls.

in the Donnyverse, Dear Leader gets all the power, all the attention and all the money. you get a handful of nothing.

Donny gets a vulgar Oval Bordello, tacky golden statues of himself and a gaudy billion-dollar Epstein Dance Hall™. you get cordially invited to go fuck yourself.

oh, what’s that? you’re struggling to pay your bills? sucks to be you, pal. Donny doesn’t want to hear about it.

of course, we’ve all known for years that this is Donny’s me-me-me-me-me worldview, but it’s still stunning to hear him actually admit it out loud.

Donny’s unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran has fucked America’s economy straight into the shitter — but why should Donny care? none of the consequences his actions affect him. he lives in a pampered bubble, with every one of his needs paid for by We the People.

Donny’s set for life. why should he give a fuck about your financial security, peon? don’t make me come over there and explain again about sociopaths.

do you think Donny gives one shit about the price of gas? he gets ferried around in the back of a limo. when was the last time this privileged asshole pumped his own gas? how about never?

Democrats, are you listening? Donny just gave you a huge, gift-wrapped present. if you’re not front-and-centering ‘I don’t think about Americans’ financial situation’ in all your advertising, you’re beyond help.

oh look, the Democrats are listening.

excellent. this is a good start.

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here’s the good news: we can expect more of these unscripted honesty moments from Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants. that’s how dementia rolls. it destroys filters — not that Donny ever had much of a filter on that rancid anus-mouth of his, but whatever little bit he did have has gone fuckity-bye.

Donny: “what happened is, uh, we have a ballroom that’s under budget, it’s going up right here. I’ve doubled the size of it because we obviously need that. and we’re uh right now on budget, under budget and ahead of schedule.”

MSNOW reporter Akayla Gardner: “the price doubled.”

Donny: “I doubled the size of it, you dumb person. doubled the size. you are— you are not a smart person.”

this is probably as a good place as any to note that my What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™ is now in its 2,234th day.

once again, Donny verbally abuses a woman reporter. notice that he never pulls this shit on a man. he’s too cowardly. but if it’s a woman asking him a tough question? she’s a pig. she’s a bitch. she’s dumb.

let’s do a quick fact check. Akayla Gardner is 100% correct. in fact, the price for that fugly Epstein Dance Hall has tripled, not doubled. the accursed thing started at a cost of $350 mil, supposedly to be financed by Donny and his oligarch besties. the price tag now stands at a billion taxpayer dollars.

but what does Akayla Gardner get for doing her job, and speaking truth to power? she gets abused. President Potty McKettleblack looms over her, gets right in her face and calls her dumb.

look at Donny. he’s a fucking mess. his face looks like a melted Halloween mask. his neckgina is fully engorged and flapping in the wind.

why won’t the press say anything about Donny’s obvious decline?

I’m so old, I remember when The New York Times was creepily obsessed with Joe Biden’s age. they spent literal years publishing an endless series of scare-pieces about how ollllllllld Joe was. look at this shit.

Joe Biden’s age was the only thing the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press wanted to talk about. fuck the fact that Biden and his team rebuilt the economy after bringing us back from a pandemic that was killing millions. that shit wasn’t sexy. it didn’t sell any newspapers. oh, but let Joe momentarily forget the name of some z-level civil servant? stop the presses, bro, that’s front-page news!

imagine that Joe Biden had ever said anything like ‘I don’t think about Americans’ financial situation, I don’t think about anybody.’ Jake Tapper would have orgasmed on the spot. his next book would have come flying out of his ass, right then and there.

meanwhile, Donny’s out here visibly falling apart before our very eyes. he’s bugfuck nuts. he rambles incoherently. he can’t walk a straight line. he falls asleep during every public appearance — but we’re not getting any honest reporting about Dear Leader’s decrepitude.

what we get is wishful thinking, in the form of fever-swamp hallucinations.

Trump holds cards that could seriously undermine Xi’s economic and political plans. At a minimum, Trump should demand that China ratchet back its support for Iranian and Russian autocracies as the price for a bilateral truce, writes Thomas J. Duesterberg

again with the cards. could our media please shut up about Donny’s cards? what a dumb fucking metaphor. Donny doesn’t hold any cards. Donny can barely hold his own dick, which he probably hasn’t seen in years.

let’s get real. Donny is a deteriorating dunderfuck who has spent the last year blundering from one foreign policy nightmare to the next, getting outplayed in each one.

Donny’s plane just landed in Beijing, after an umpteen-hour flight from DC. right now what he needs is a pudding cup and a nap, instead of the series of high-stakes meetings he’s about to take part in.

media, please stop pretending that this drooling imbecile is some kind of statesman. he’s not. he’s a very naughty preznit. now go away.

you’re beclowning yourselves, and doing America a disservice.

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let’s have our Daily Claudia.

look at these two under-dressed weirdos.

according to what Ms. Spouse wrote on her facebook page, this pic of us was taken in 1980 at Lake Minnewaska, NY.

have a great Wednesday, everyone. we’re halfway through the week and Donny hasn’t blown anything up yet. keep your fingers crossed.

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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.