The thing about Donald Trumpâthere are many things, of course, but let's start with this oneâis that his whole personality rests on the foundation of "petty little bitch." Being a petty, whiny, insufferable loser who's always got to be the center of attention: That's Donald. Forever picking fights over things nobody else can even understand? That's him all right. The man is forever trapped in his High School Mean Girl brain, the one that wants to be an influencer and be surrounded by glamour and excuse me did I say you could sit with us? Because you can't sit with us.
It's frustrated me to no end that all of us know this, it's not something his little pea brain has ever been capable of hiding, and yet the only people to take advantage of it have been people like Vladimir Putin. World strongmen, both aspirational and actual, speak this jagoff's language and can play him like a fiddle. FIFA's head crook can whip up a gold-sprayed "peace prize," solemnly hand it to Donald like it wasn't something they dreamed up solely with the intent of screwing with him, and immediately win the petty trinket-collector's favor because he's fed into his own fantasy of himself. Now he's an influencer, like he always thought deserved to be. Now he's got glamour, and isn't just a McDonalds-scarfing rumpled vulgarian pretending at it.
The world does best when Donald Trump is in his petty little bitch mode, because the pettier he is, the more obsessed he is with his petty little squabbles about who-the-fk-knows, the less room there is in his brain for the other dipshittery.
By all means, this is a "president" who should devote his every waking hour to demanding we change the names of lakes to show Becky in class two what we think of her. Dumbass.
We should make him the King of Naming Lakes, that's a job he can do. Instead of Lake Ontario, he can call it Lake America, and Lake Superior can become Lake Make America Great Again, and Lake Michigan can become Lake America 2, and Lake Erie can become Lake I Barely Knew That Pedophile, and Lake Huron can become Lake A Lotta People Don't Know There's A Lake Huron But It's Doing Great Things And You'll Be Hearing About That Lake More And More.
Whatever it takes to keep him away from policy. Wrap the whole White House in gold leaf from top to bottom, if it means he'll be too preoccupied with that to order carrier groups around.
The reason Donald Trump is currently tweeting maps with "Lake America" plastered on them rather than doing his real job is because Ontario premier Doug Ford told Donald to "kiss my ass," which is right in the wheelhouse of what the pettiest, stupidest man in North America can understand and react to.
Ask Trump a question about economic policy, his brain will break and he will start rambling about maybe doing a military strike on the bond market.
Aaron Rupar
Damn it, reporters. Why do you do this? He doesn't know what a bond market is. He doesn't know what a bond is or a market isâit's only recently that he learned the word groceries. The man is a complete fake, a child who grew up rich and mean and never matured beyond the self-absorbed little shit he was at age 12.
Tell him to "kiss my ass," though, and finally you're speaking in words he can understand. His inner asshole knows all three words; no parsing is needed. This is a vapid shell of a man who understands insulting people and being insultedâand that's it. The rest of the world is a blur to him, like a dog riding in a car and not knowing whether he's going to the park, the vet, or another NATO summit.
Ford made his commentsâand nobody start praising Doug Ford, please, because Doug Ford is his own kind of messâafter Trump announced 50% tariffs on Canada. Which, you need to understand, was also Trump doing his high school mean girl routine. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney had the audacity to give a speech in Davos last January calmly observing that the U.S. government had gone insane and that the rest of the world needed to start planning around that sooner rather than later. And that enraged Trump, because again: petty lizard brain.
Carney's warnings came during one of those now-rote periods of time when Trump was threatening both Greenland and Canada with annexation as one of his odder nobody-knows-why brain things; Trump threatened 100% tariffs on Canadian goods as punishment because you guys, Canada sat next to China at lunchtime yesterday even though Canada knows America has been ghosting China after what China did last week.
Yeah. Yeah, it's been an ouroboros of petty this whole damn time.
The problems always arise when Trump is bored. Whenever this peabrain gets bored, he starts wandering around the White House looking for fights to pick, or more often he just asks nearby Natalie to show him some tweet he should be mad at, and then that becomes his new obsession while Stephen Miller and the rest of the clique do the actual policymaking.
That's why Trump was flustered into threatening military strikes on the bond markets, you see. It was news to him that his administration had a bond market policyâand God knows nobody could successfully explain it to himâso when he heard about it he had to wing it.
Other things Trump has done because he's bored: Tear down a third of the White House. Redesign the White House columns to be more ornate. Order all the armrests in the Kennedy Center to be replaced with white marble, because what you really want, during a 2-hour artistic performance of any kind, is to have both elbows resting on the hardest possible surface the whole time. It's classy. It builds rich-people, um, elbow character.
And as humiliating as all of this has been, this whole horrible time, those are the only times when Donald Trump is not getting people killed outright from his own incompetence. Every minute the man spends planning out who sits where during the brunch being held on the corpse of the old White House Rose Garden is a minute the sailors on the USS Abraham Lincoln didn't have to wade through six inches of liquid shit in the bathrooms after Trump and Hegseth started some new war, promptly got their asses kicked, and have to pretend their enemy didn't destroy most of the American military infrastructure in the region that ships like the Lincoln had relied on.
As I keep saying, we ought to be able to use this incandescent pettiness of President Almost Prom King, Human Ascot to our advantage. If half of international organized crime can do it, if FIFA can do it, if dictators from Russia to North Korea can do it, I have a hard time understanding why the collected master manipulators of the good old yew ess of hey haven't been able to distract him into impotence.
It's ... not that hard?
By golly we need to get this man a bird. No, wait, he hates birds. He'd almost certainly just kill the bird.
What the world needs is ... a scapegoat. A pawn. A sacrifice. We need some person, country, or community to pick a fight with Trump so petty that whatever small part of his cheesesteak brain that might exist to not do petty stuff packs up and leaves for good. We need to find someone that this raging ball of mortal sin will get so mad at, and stay so mad at, that he can't be pried away from it to do new wars or tariffs or paramilitary occupations of major cities.
What if one particular stateâmaybe we draw straws for itâmakes it their sacrificial mission to do something every day that drives Trump to apoplexy. Post a video making fun of his ever-expanding "butt trunk." Release a new television commercial in which a prominent and beloved American, somebody like Taylor Swift, says "I once tried a Trump steak and it was gross." Name all the lakes in the state after people he considers his mortal enemies, with their names in big gold cursive letters. Let loose an unending stream of the pettiest, most trivial insults anyone can come up with, so that he doesn't have time to even hear about which foreign politicians have invited him to become affectionate with which of their body parts.
Hell, announce a new wind farm. Then tell him you're going to put hideous blonde hairpieces on top of every turbine. Not only would you have his attention, he'd be calling in airstrikes.
I know, I know. It wouldn't work, because of the "airstrikes" problem. We could never find that sacrificial country or state or celebrity; in large part because while President Two Scoops has the brain of a high school clique enforcer, our nation's Great Club of Idiots has given him the whole federal government, our military, and nuclear weapons. So instead of Canada getting hit with 100% tariffs or 50% tariffs or honorary mandatory statehood, we'll just be setting up yet another small country or sassy talk show host or drew-the-short-straw state to get the full wrath of hell rained down on them. There would be fallout.
Possibly literally. No, almost certainly literally.
Honestly, it would probably be better to do the bird thing. We'd go through parrots at a good clip, but each would die a hero's death, be buried in Arlington with full honors, and in the meantime the rest of us could at least get some damn sleep.
Could we ... fake one? The perfect Trump enemy, I mean? The one who would keep him so preoccupied with his petty little social media insults and Natalie-generated images that he would forget to eat, or sleep, or invade Cuba as part of some bizarre Marco Rubio fixation that the rest of us aren't privy to?
We could say that the number one enemy Trump can't possibly vanquish is, I don't know, let's say Steve. His name will be Steve. Donald Trump's new biggest mortal enemy that Donald never heard of until now.
I'm terribly sorry, Donald, but you can't bomb Steve. Nobody knows where Steve is, only that he's always telling people that Donald Trump is a hairpiece-wearing box-pantsed failure who smells like dead fish rotting on the surface of Lake America 2.
Steve lives in the nation of Steveland, which is an invisible floating sky island you've never heard of. It's made of the same stuff we make stealth fighters from, so nobody can see it. And it floats around, being invisible, and everywhere it goes people soon tell stories of the time Steve visited their town and gave a big speech about how Donald Trump smells like dead fish and failure.
Steve says Florida is named Donald Trump Sucks now. Steve is much richer than Donald, which has to be true because Donald has to ride around in a stunk-up bribe jet but Steve has his own invisible floating sky island. Also, Steve has the complete Epstein files. He says there are pictures of you in them, Donald. A lot of pictures of you.
I'm grasping at straws here, I know. We have all tried our best to live our lives despite our stinky fishbreath wannabe prom king making every news cycle it's own new version of hell, but it is very taxing, and we are very tired. But it still feels like if every two-bit sociopath in Trump's own orbit can play him like a fishbone fiddle, the world's decent people ought to be able to figure out the trick of it and do the same.
We could make like Tim Cook or like FIFA, and all present him cheap gold awards to make him think he has value. Just flood the whole damn White House with shiny trophies until nobody can get in or out; he'll burrow into them with near-sexual pleasure and live out his remaining days buried in the pile like a sleeping cicada. We could use the vast resources of the "left wing media" to broadcast new, utterly fake stories that will have him chasing imaginary Steves across the worldâmaybe we tell him that only NOAA weather balloons can detect Steve's floating island; we might get a bit of our weather forecasting ability back that way.
We're not powerless here. We're tired, but not powerless. Surely somebody, among Trump's many many many mortal enemies, knows how to be even more annoying than Doug Ford.
Jingle some keys, for God's sake! Distract him!
Comments
We want Uncharted Blue to be a welcoming and progressive space.
Before commenting, make sure you've read our Community Guidelines.