There really is no point in talking about trump. It’s pretty well established that he presents a danger to the entire world just as a raging wildfire presents a danger to everything in it’s path. You can’t reason with a fire…it’s just there…it consumes fuel as a mindless force. The real concern are those who stand with all the rest of us in his path and feel him more fuel. The fools who wreck anything and everything to throw in his path so he can continue his destruction. He’ll burn out in time, sooner if a firebreak is constructed. I wish there were a way to communicate to people. And if communication can’t happen then neutralize them in some way. It Seems pointless though to continue hand wringing about something as mindless as he is. He continue until there is nothing left.
Perhaps, but if so he definitely does’t put the “grade” in “tardigrade”…
sweet, ahhhhhhh… like watching Joffrey after his sip of The Strangler…
Damn! I thought there was going to be some new information here.
Well written though.
One thing Trump can’t hide.
How about one with his big ridiculous mouth wide open and eclipses where his eyes should be?
So, Trump’s consciousness vs. a rock’s consciousness…
You can’t rob someone of something he never had. Drumpf willingly and cheerfuly threw away any shred of humanity he may once have had, years ago, because it got in the way of making money. He is human in name only. Personally, considering what he looks like when he “smiles”, I think the bastard is a mutant frog.
This is the guy who boasted that he never gave his wife anything of any real material value. Because that wouldn’t be smart. Why would you do that?, he asked. In the event of things going to court, that would only diminish your leverage.
Even with his wife, pure, distilled, sociopathic thinking. Void is about the most apt word here.
I’ve read several places that Trump has no actual friends. I believe it.
I think I got this story from Gershon Legman’s first book of dirty jokes: A cruel sergeant has been tormenting a helpless recruit from some small town, riding him mercilessly for days. The recruit has kept quiet throughout, so the sarge pushes harder. “I’ll bet you’d love nothing better than to piss on my grave, Private! Am I right?” And the private sadly replies, “No, sir! When I get out of this army, I’m never going to stand in line again.”
I don’t think he ever really developed a working model of what a friend, or friendship, is.
In all the writings about Donald Trump, is there, anywhere, a quote from a self-identified “childhood friend?”
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