#outoftouch

Although I do not know each and every one of you, dear readers, I know enough about you by now to realize that you don’t need any more evidence that our scattered, childlike president is losing his shit. But like it or not, here is the incredible news of the day: Only 48 hours after an American citizen was gunned down in cold blood by agents acting in his name, Donald Trump took the time to go on his Truth Social account this morning and post a diatribe about his bloody fucking ballroom.

He spent some time yesterday speaking on the phone with a reporter for the Wall Street Journal trying to figure out how he’s going to get himself out of the disastrous corner he’s backed himself into with the obsessive retribution he thought he would wreak on the state of Minnesota and the city of Minneapolis for some unnamed reason – that they didn’t vote for him in even one of his presidential elections; that his nemesis Ilhan Omar is from there and represents a district with a large Somali population; that some half-wit with a cell phone camera convinced him that tens of billions of welfare fraud was being committed there, as if he would even take the good time out of his day to care about it.

Who knows why he dispatched his makeshift army of Bass Pro Shop camo goons to Minneapolis? It was clear by yesterday that he was starting to rethink the whole thing, because faced with copious video evidence that a murder had taken place, Republicans of multiple-MAGA stripes were beginning to back away from him and his policy of turning loose a totally untrained brigade of pretend-warriors on an American city with orders to break whatever norms and laws necessary to come up with a bunch of immigration numbers he could brag about.

By Saturday, he was losing his support on managing immigration, too, with several polls showing some minor slippage even among Republicans, but a major loss of popularity among People Who Evidently Matter To Him, which would be independents and the youth vote that lost its mind and backed him in 2024.

It’s not just the incredibly deteriorating situation in Minneapolis that should be on his mind, even if none of the following probably is. He has taken on a job that he has sworn for more than 20 years he would never touch – the running and rebuilding of a foreign nation. That would be Venezuela, after he kidnapped its leader and replaced that incredibly corrupt regime with the same corrupt regime with a new figurehead “president” whom he swears is under his control, but if history has taught us anything, is not and never will be.

He’s got what he calls an “armada” in the waters near Iran, threatening the regime with retribution because they killed their own citizens during recent protests. With two of his own citizens having been killed by his administration and his obvious, outrageous hypocrisy aired around the clock on social media, cable news, and on newspaper editorial pages around the country, Trump now faces an angry, embittered Iranian regime that today threatened “a regret-inducing response” to any new “aggression from the United States and the Zionist regime,” which would of course be Israel and its murderous leader, Trump’s pal Bibi Netanyahu.

Late update: Trump tells Axios this afternoon that Iran “wants to make a deal.” R-i-i-i-ght. That line of shit and $5.45 will get you an iced something-or-another at Starbucks.

He totally and completely lost his insane bid to “take over” Greenland, arriving in Davos last week with his surrender papers scrolling down a teleprompter so he could reassure the many, many billionaire pals who were clearly ready to threaten him with a gigantic loss of payoffs if he didn’t come to heel on his stupid Greenland demands. So, he took the hit. He caved into a slight modification of a 1951 treaty with Denmark on Greenland, tucked his tail between the cheeks of his considerable ass, and struggled up the stairs to Air Force One and went home.

He is continuing his full-fledged campaign of murder on the high seas by shooting yet another alleged “drug boat” out of the water on Friday, flaunting international criminal law, the Law of the Sea, and any normal person’s sense of morality, which Trump has twisted for his own ends by announcing a week or so ago that he “doesn’t need international law,” and all he needs to rely on is “my own morality and mind,” wherever they are currently located.

He is continuing his insane tariff regime that is driving up costs of everything from chocolate chip cookies to the chips he needs Taiwan to make so his billionaire buddies can continue to build massive data centers that are pissing off people – read: voters – everywhere from Virginia to Texas. He doesn’t know what to do about that, either. How is he going to manage the split between pleasing the Tech Bros and pleasing voters who are tired of their surging electric bills and turning on taps that only trickle water because some fucking data center needs groundwater to cool its hothouse filled with computers and servers and God only knows what else? And what’s he going to do about the growing realization among regular people out there that their privacy is being utterly destroyed by the AI that all those data centers make possible?

I could go on. Suffice to say that Donald Trump, no stranger to midday napping sitting up straight in his chair in the Oval Office, has more on his proverbial presidential plate than most presidents who came before him. And yet, what does he do this morning? Here, give him a listen:

“I’m building, on top of everything else that I am doing, one of the greatest and most beautiful Ballrooms anywhere in the World, with more than 300 Million Dollars of Great American Patriots’ money, and working closely with, right from the beginning, the United States Military and Secret Service. This is a GIFT (ZERO taxpayer funding!) to the United States of America, of 300 to 400 Million Dollars (depending on the scope and quality of interior finishes!), for a desperately needed space, sought for over 150 years by previous Presidents and Administrations, so that the White House would no longer be forced to use a cheap and unsafe “tent,” for big and important STATE EVENTS, Dinners, Meetings, Conferences, and already scheduled future INAUGURATIONS (for safety, security, and capacity purposes!), on a very wet, and subject to weather, White House lawn. Making such a large gift to the U.S.A. was thought to be, by almost everyone, “A WONDERFUL THING TO DO” — But no, as usual, I got sued, this time by the Radical Left National (No!)Trust for Historic Preservation, a group that couldn’t care less about our Country!”

He goes on to explain, an inadequate word if there ever was one, that he has already ordered everything necessary for the ballroom, all the steel and bulletproof glass and marble, and on and on, so there can be only one conclusion to be drawn: “IT IS TOO LATE” to stop his precious ballroom.

This is obviously the infantile ranting of a spoiled brat who has spent every waking hour of every day he has been alive in abject avoidance of the merest possibility of being told “no” about anything in his life. He didn’t want to be told “no” by women, so he grabbed their pussies and raped them. He didn’t want to be told “no” by the voters, so he tried to cancel their votes and steal the 2020 election.

What kind of blithering egomaniacal monster, facing the exploding scandal of two American citizens murdered by his own thugs in the space of a couple of weeks, spends the morning following the second murder obsessing about his fucking ballroom?

Our president, that’s who.

I beseech you: Don’t pull the pillow over your heads and hope it all goes away. The blood of our fellow citizens is in the street. We are being called on to act, if all we can do is throw open our windows and blow whistles and scream that we’ve had enough and we’re not going to take it anymore. Be of good heart. Our votes are out there waiting for us to cast them. The deaths of Good and Pretti will not be in vain. We are going to win this thing for them, for ourselves, for our country.

The Grammys are supposed to be about music. Art. Talent. Craft. They are meant to celebrate creativity, not serve as a soapbox for political posturing. Yet, once again, we were subjected to another display of left-wing hypocrisy, this time courtesy of Billie Eilish and the wider celebrity class that never misses an opportunity to lecture the public.

This wasn’t bravery. It wasn’t activism. It was theatre.

What we saw was a wealthy, insulated celebrity using a global stage to push political messaging to an audience that didn’t ask for it and certainly doesn’t need it from someone who will never live with the consequences of the policies they endorse. That is the core hypocrisy. These people don’t queue at food banks. They don’t worry about heating bills. They don’t suffer from the social decay their ideology accelerates. Yet they feel entitled to tell ordinary people how to live, vote, speak, and think.

There’s something deeply cynical about multimillionaires scolding the public from gilded stages. It’s easy to demand sacrifice when you’re never the one sacrificing. Easy to champion “the cause” when your lifestyle remains untouched, protected by wealth, security, and influence. The left loves to talk about “privilege” until it’s their own.

The entertainment industry has become a closed echo chamber where dissent is unwelcome and conformity is rewarded. Say the approved lines, signal the right virtues, and you’re praised as “brave.” Step outside that script and you’re frozen out. This isn’t cultural leadership. It’s ideological enforcement dressed up as compassion.

What makes it worse is the sheer audacity of it all. These award shows rely on the public. Fans buy the music, stream the songs, attend the concerts, and fund the entire machine. Then those same fans are talked down to as morally inferior by performers who mistake applause for authority.

People are tired of it. Tired of being lectured. Tired of being patronised. Tired of every cultural event being hijacked and turned into a political rally. Not everything needs a manifesto attached to it. Sometimes people just want music without a sermon.

If celebrities want to enter politics properly, they’re free to do so. Run for office. Debate policy. Face scrutiny. Accept accountability. But standing on a stage, insulated from criticism, and delivering pre-packaged talking points isn’t courage. It’s attention-seeking, plain and simple.