The shocking secret life of our American president

And you thought The Donald had some kind of animal resting upon his head? Perhaps. But this picture shows the Trump in his element. Yes, it is an ermine, a.k.a. a short-tailed weasel. Yes, keep in mind, this is a weasel. Let’s call it Donald Trump. And let the Marine Corps Band strike up the Donald’s theme song: “Pop Goes The Weasel. (Thanks to a great federal agency whose initials are NPS. But, you know, Trump f***ers, it could be just about anyone. Maybe Steve Bannon, or maybe that walking d**k Stephen Miller.)

The emperor has no sense

Looking at Facebook a moment ago I was amazed at those folks — most are much more conservative than I — who were fascinated at the long presidential press conference today.

“Have a nice freakin’ day. Big league.”

When I say “fascinated” it isn’t exactly a supportive term.

Those armchair shrinks out there who say Trump acts as if he suffers with narcissistic personality disorder might add manic depressive to their diagnoses. Holy Schamoly! That guy is bonkers. I don’t know how long, or short, the Trump presidency will be, but there is definitely enough there for one or more blockbuster flicks!

People might say I’m bonkers, but I actually feel kind of sorry for the guy. I mean, the president has some long-suffering self-esteem issues. Here he is, supposedly richer than than Midas, and Trump was elected to what many call as the most important position in the world. I suppose his life is such that the old cliche seems apt that money cannot buy you happiness. I wouldn’t need a whole lot of money to be happier, but I would not mind it either. Hey Don, why don’t we exchange places!

It would be interesting to see Trump in that show “Undercover Boss.” Although if he had has normal hairstyle and his unmistakable rambling he would fail at the undercover part.

Were it not that Trump is so arrogant and is an apparent congenital liar, with hardly an attention span — adding the danger he poses to the world — than the 45th president’s would be a story like few others. Well, it is a story like few others, only that isn’t a good thing.

What is so frustrating to me is not any particular actions so far. It is disappointing to see that so many people think he is better than a cold drink on a hot day. His supporters overlook his many shortcomings.

The fact here is that Trump lies. I could forgive him of many trespasses. But his lying and his scapegoating does not cut it. Most of all, I don’t like it that the Donald can apparently see no evil when it comes to Vladimir Putin. This is especially after Trump has treated friends of this country like they stepped on some stinking some or the other.

Then again, were Trump to quit or be removed through impeachment, we would be stuck with Mike Pence or Paul Ryan. At this stage, nothing looks like a good option for our nation.

This lying Trump bunch

It seems that the Trump administration has a new theme song. No it isn’t the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” no matter how much intellectual robbery the candidate Trump used without the band’s consent.

Nope. It’s a golden oldie. If you weren’t around in the 70s you may not remember it.

Liar.

That’s right the old Rod Argent and Russ Ballard — a.k.a. Argent — song as performed by Three Dog Night: “Liar!” The song is a perfect message as to what Trump and his sleazy crew is all about.

Kellyanne Conway, Trump’s counselor, put her bonafides front and center by telling MSNBC’s Chris Matthews that the controversial travel ban signed by Trump last weekend could have stopped the “Bowling Green Massacre.” As it turned out, the “massacre” was stopped because there wasn’t a massacre in Bowling Green, Ky. Conway made the whole thing up. She later made a correction saying she meant to say Bowling Green terrorists. Yes, there certainly is a lot of difference there.

“Liar, Liar, Liar!”

This happened only a week after White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer ginned up some fake ire when lying into the press and lying about the attendance at the Inauguration of King Donald of New York.

“Liar, Liar, Liar!”

And Conway took Spicer’s lie and made it even worse by using an totally unbelievable euphemism, “alternative facts,” as Spicer had given the press, feigned outrage and all.

Spicer can’t help himself though. He is the biggest lying sack of shit to grace the White House and he certainly is among a treasured history.¬† Spicer’s latest whopper was his telling reporters that the Iranians had fired upon a Navy ship. Which would have been an act of war. It turns out, he got the Navy part right but the wrong country. The ship belonged to the Saudis.

“Liar, Liar, Liar!”

It seems like the old saying about how you know pols are lying — because their mouths are moving — is a very appropriate description from the Amateur Hour on Pennsylvania Avenue.b

A honest Abe this bunch is not.

 

 

Trump: What next?

Our President-elect started his “victory lap” today in Indiana where he reportedly saved “thousands,” “1,000,” “800” some Carrier plant jobs from exile to Mexico. Of course, Vice President-elect Mike Pence, the outgoing governor of Indiana, got a little personal thanks since it was, after all, in the state where he will remain in office until, well, who really cares?

Trump is the new shiny object for the media so the national, especially TV media stars, must all sit up with their paws poised like little dogs ready to lap up the next treat. All the while, Trump gets his standard little, and yes it is very little, laugh, when he denounces the media.

I had the mostly misfortune of being thrown into the traveling media pool of White House reporters who were, they felt, thrown into Hell by covering President George W. Bush and his entourage in Crawford, Texas. Note to future presidents: Just because you bought a ranch in the backwater where August vacations are spent in 100-plus-degree temperatures, doesn’t mean that reporters will ditch you.

You can look back to many of the posts since I started this blog in the Spring of 2005 and you will tend to think I hated George W. “Dubya” Bush with an unbridled passion. That is far from the truth, however. The passion was, many times, bridled.

No, I will say that George W. handed me a lot to write about both as a reporter and as a blogger. You will probably find, if you search and not particularly hard, of my recounting¬† when I interviewed “Shrub” before he was ever elected to office. I may have interviewed him twice without his press handlers or Secret Service agents. I can’t remember how many pressers I attended when Bush was governor. I do know I attended his events as governor at two different newspapers. I also covered four events at another newspaper when Dubya was president, one was at the “Ranch” and the others were at Fort Hood.

One particular policy put me at odds with Gee Dubya forever as president. That was his decision for us to invade Iraq. It doesn’t matter whether he was doing what his Daddy hadn’t at the end of Gulf War I, or whether he started a war because Iraq not-so-strong-man, the late Saddam Hussein, had reportedly plotted an assassination of George Herbert Walker Bush, or Bush Sr.

I was pretty ticked off at that decision to invade Iraq. I wasn’t very happy when his Dad invaded Iraq the first go-round. I thought Iraq I was fool-hardy. I though Iraq II was insane. My reasoning was that, even I — a former Navy mid-grade non-commissioned officer, and no big whiz in foreign policy — could see that Iraq II was a war from which we would never extricate ourselves, American + Allies. Perhaps one day but no time soon. Yes, I’ve been right about that so far.

This brings us to the most foolhardy president-elect in my lifetime. I thought Nixon would be the one. Then I figured Ronald Reagan would bring us to nuclear war. Then there was George W. Bush. Holy frijoles, man, none of those seem bad at all — compared with, The Donald.

We have this lucky con-man on deck, who lacks intellect and intellectual curiosity, Donald J. Trump. Unless a miracle happens and it is found out the 2.5 million-margin in popular voting somehow, crazy as it seems, finally elects Hillary Clinton, then Trump is our president.

And finally, it comes down to Trump and his, supposed animus for the media. Hell, Trump should kiss the ass of every reporter or photojournalist who graces his presences. Or at the very least, he should engage in ass-kissing of every news executive he knows. Trump won his primary contests against the top of the Republican candidate food chain — more or less. He probably spent a couple of thousand bucks for those cheap-ass “Make America Great Again” ball caps.

But the leaders of the big American media, led by a menagerie of gutless wonders, feel their lower-paid employees should let Donald knock the reporters into the water. Hell, we won’t get wet, those honchos would say.

I can only hope someone with the balls to do so, will foment a mutiny. Just stop covering that obnoxious son-of-a-bitch Trump at his “press” ops. That won’t prevent the news people from doing their jobs. I mean, I found out I didn’t have to worry about copying every word of a presidential speech. Why it was posted online, you just had to check spelling, etc.

Perhaps one day we might see a grovelling Donald Trump begging for news coverage. I doubt it. But, at least we can hope he will be indicted. Or maybe he will take his bro-mance with Vladimir Putin to even a greater extent. I can just see it. Donald breaks up with Melania, and he runs off to Moscow where the very odd couple will live in holy matrimony. Or macaroni. It doesn’t really matter does it?