Bragging to Woodward about how “We have stuff that Putin and Xi have never heard about before” is ludicrous to the point of slapstick, circa Strangelove.įinally, the Woodward interview peeled back another layer of Trump’s con game with his rubes: the idea that everything is fake news. Such a blockbuster that it obscured the news about Trump- who is not a smart man- announcing a highly classified program for the development of an “incredible” nuclear weapon. That admission was such a blockbuster that it obscured the news, also from Woodward’s book, that Trump thinks his generals are “a bunch of pussies”-capping a week where he alienated a meaningful fraction of his political base by shitting on America’s war dead and our currently serving troops by wondering aloud just what is in it for them since there’s no real money in service. The ads write themselves: First play the tape of Donald, bored and smug in the residence at night on the phone in February with his new bestie Bob admitting the danger of a virus maybe five times “more deadly than even your strenuous flus.” Then the press conferences where he insisted day after day and month after month that COVID was a trifle. That was a really, really, really dumb lie, a lie of such blazing, white-hot stupidity that you wonder what possible world Trump thought it would work in. It’s not some vague J’Accuse from the resistance now Trump admitted early on that he knew just how deadly and how dangerous the virus would be, and lied anyway. It’s not every day that your hubris and dumbfuckery leads you to do 18 on-the-record taped interviews with Bob Woodward confessing to, oh, 200,000 fucking cases of manslaughter because you lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied again to the American people about the impact of COVID. No, this week’s wounds are from Trump’s own quivering, liverish lips and the shit sandwich he stuffed between them on Wednesday. Trump barely knows who Stepien is, except as That Guy I’m Going to Fire Next.Īll that’s just icing. That the vaunted digital Death Star magic of Brad Parscale has been replaced by the basic-bitch campaign of Bill Stepien-no wartime consigliere but a struggling accountant canceling polls, media buys, and field operations around the country to try and stop the political bleeding. Set aside that Trump’s foundering campaign has burned through a billion-with-a-b dollars to end up down in key swing states and nationally. Sorry, Grandpa Dobbs, but your Cheeto-hued idol stuck his prick in a light socket, and the results aren’t pretty. That was the single worst day of Donald Trump‘s administration.
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