TWGB: It's Raining Shoes!

 

It certainly has been a minute, hasn't it? So, what brings me out of self-imposed blogging exile, if not something very relevant to my obsessions? Is it that the POTUS's favorite she-pimp seems to be getting favorable treatment, with the expectation of more of the same? Well sure, that's pretty heinous, given what she has done, and you would certainly be right to wonder why, but there's of course more, because this is TrumpWorld--and of course, there are emails, lots of them, indicating Trump knew about the girls. 

I don't think any mature rational person, knowing what we know about Trump and women (and girls) who isn't pretty sure how well he knew either--it was not a well-kept secret.

But if you know me by now, you know all roads go back to Moscow. Or really, anywhere kompromat on this scuzzy, flabby-brained bag of crapulence can damage this country's national security. Because fine, MAGA does not give a tiny, constipated shit for women and girls--understood. From "Moses Mike" Johnson to the lowest Q-creep, they can pretend to moralize all they want, but at the end of the day, they can, will and do compromise their morality for the sake of politics. 

But Epstein was letting the Russians know what of course they already knew--how to handle Trump. Epstein was talking with the Russians and people in Trump's circle at a period of time that is MIGHTY inconvenient. 

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? I don't want to wonder, though--we need to see what else in in these Epstein files, and not whatever version has been redacted to death (so we have heard). The American people deserve the truth. 

(As for me, I'm still writing--I'm doing my usual November poetry challenge. )

This is Not a Great Sign

 

Trump: "When you go to a voting booth, and you do it the right way, and you go to a state that runs it properly, you go in -- they even asked me, they asked me for my license plate. I said, 'I don't know if I have it.' They said, 'Sir, you have to have it.' I was very impressed… pic.twitter.com/SVP1xAsdH0

— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) August 18, 2025

I guess there are other things (many!) I could have to say about yesterday's events, but I'm just singling this out here: Trump's brain was trying to grope after the term "driver's license", but it came up with the entirely different "license plate." It's just a word substitution in one sense, a misspeaking, but it feels like a sign of senility, 

Well, to me anyway. It's like when he seems to have wires crossed regarding "political asylum" and "mental asylums". Or when he insists he has to show his ID to buy groceries. He may be losing his mind or, and this is also really quite terrible--he never had much of a mind to lose. 

He thinks solar energy doesn't work at night. He thinks magnets won't work when wet. You can look those things up. Trump has never looked up anything, ever and it shows.

Now MAGA being MAGA, they might just insist this is the strength of Trump: he so muscular he can just wrench his license plate off the car and fold it up in his wallet. Ignoring that Trump says batshit things in all seriousness is worrying as hell.

That's how we got here, and literally millions of lives at any time could depend on Trump not being full-blown delusional. Yet here he is, doing "peace negotiations" with a mental deficit and a florid personality disorder. 

Setting Expectations

 

Ahead of today's meeting with President Zelenskyy, Trump has decided to set expectations low, by showing he agrees with Putin.

That's it. That's what he seems to be saying. 

As of my last post, I knew there was more pathetic stupidity as yet unseen in the miserable optics of Trump rolling out a red carpet for a war criminal. And of course there was. His crack team of operational security masterminds left sensitive docs on a hotel printer, and something (we still don't entirely know what) left some members of Trump's staff literally shaken. Trump still sounds like he has no understanding of the situation, confusing the defense of Ukraine for an act of continuing aggression--while Trump's good friend Putin continues to bomb civilians. 

I am heartened that Zelenskyy will have other European leaders with him as support, hopefully to prevent an outright sandbagging, but when I hear talk of "land swaps" and see posts from Trump like the above, well--

Expectations are not set very high. A Starting position that rewards a dictator for an illegal invasion is a hell of a pathetic start. And honestly, Trump should kiss goodbye his dreams of a Nobel Prize,. He is an ignoble jackass.

A Red Carpet for a War Criminal

 

Trump rolled out the red carpet for a war criminal. He did not make a deal. And Putin, formerly of the KGB, apparently amplified the echoes in Trump's nearly empty noggin, because that's what you do when your job isn't to make peace, but to make war by any means at hand. And Trump keeps making himself so handy. Does he really think this is how he gets a Nobel Prize? (Which, being a thirsty little bitch, Trump definitely is politicking for.)

The sad, simple answer is, yes. Trump is a narcissist, and even a failure gives him a supply of attention, which is his oxygen. And all the little toadies he has carefully cultivated to sit around him and applaud him for nearly hitting the potty will continue to applaud Trump even if they are up to their ankles in old man pee. 

As for Russia, they continue to show disrespect to our country, which Trump and his retinue appear to be too stupid to comprehend. (Or if they are capable of comprehending, are too immiserated in Trump's company to still be capable of shame.) 

It was a shambles, and I truly believe we have not heard all of the shambolics involved just yet. 

Agent Krasnov is Going to Russia?

 

Please don't embarrass him in front of his BOSS. He gets nervous and his tummy hurts. https://t.co/33XOFfMWb5

— Vixen Strangely (@VixenStrangely) August 11, 2025

Trump was a little late to his big press conference announcing he was going to use the military to occupy Washington, DC in order to liberate it, but that's OK--he all know the occupation is about his preoccupation with the idea of big city crime (homeless, people, ethnic people, fascist stuff) and to divert attention from his connections to Jeffrey Epstein (which is NOT going away). What fascinated me, of course, was that Krasnov seemed to think that Alaska was Russia. 

It's the kind of mistake any senile reprobate with no basic idea of geography could make quite accidentally twice, I guess. After all, Trump s still patting himself on the back for putting out the LA fires (which were already contained by the time he took office) by turning a big beautiful spigot nowhere near them, wasting a lot of water and doing nothing, on the general principle that water flows downhill. Because north is at the top of the map, you see. South would be downhill--that just science!

What I'm getting at is, he's just really dumb, but also? He may very well think Alaska is part of Russia if Putin says so. After all, it's just like Crimea. Putin called "dibs."  That counts for something, right? 

TWGB: Pimping the White House

 

One man's idea of luxury is another man's idea of flypaper tacky; in rather the same way one man's idea of a distinctive hairstyle is another man's notion of a molded drain clog fastened to a moldering skull, but if I squint a bit, I can see what the tastemaker at the White House is going for with his gilded style complete with dance hall:

It's an homage to the Gold Rush brothel keeper who founded the family fortune. You know, a little something of l'esprit de bordel. You or I might cringe at it, but Trump is not one to turn his nose up at wherever his money has come from and has always had a soft spot for pimps. Professional courtesy? Or perhaps what passes for respect.

Some people of course simply note that this glitz is reminiscent of Mar-a-Lago, where former friend Jeffrey Epstein poached pubescents. People do say all kinds of things. For example, when I saw that Trump had the Rose Garden paved over, I might have wondered if there was anyone under the cement, in rather the way a troublesome witness might be deposited underground at one's golf course, but with less fanfare.

I also say all kinds of things, though. 

But then I saw the umbrellas and really understood:

The entrepreneurial vision of the man.

When I'm Not Vixen Strangely...

 

I don't know how much of an explanation this is, but it'll have to do. Maybe someone will find it useful. Maybe it'll make sense to you. Maybe it won't. I don't think it will hurt. 

 Being me sometimes hurts. Not in a big way--just in a "wake up feeling as good as I'm going to" kind of way. My knees started to sound like bubble wrap popping back when I was unloading pallets of copy paper over a quarter of a century ago. They hurt when it rains. So do my hands. So do my ankles. Not in a big way.

Usually. And different things would just rattle or seize up or feel weird sometimes, but it would pass. Or I'd be run down. 

This isn't going to be a post about an awful diagnosis. I really sort of checked out and never followed up because it wasn't bad. My problem was I was in my thirties and full of stress and could stand to lose some weight. Then it was I was in my forties and full of stress and could stand to lose some weight. And more recently, well, my birthdate is on my driver's license, and I buy my own pants, so no one could tell me a damn thing I didn't know. Maybe it was from having mono in my teens. Maybe it was just getting old. 

I just figured I would pace myself--and I self-medicated. 

Yeah. It's that kind of post.