Trump is in total disbelief.
You could literally watch it happen last night. Trump's increasingly insane social media posts as he saw even ultra MAGA red Mississippi go against him. He's shocked, stunned, in utter denial. The rebuke is so loud, even HE can't claim voter fraud -- though of course he will. What other choice does he have?
Trump really thought he was popular. He honestly believed it. And why wouldn't he? He's been lied to his entire life, by others, but by himself the most.
Loomer, Miller, Vance, Thiel, his entire inner circle have been telling him what he wants to hear. You're so wonderful, Sir, Sir! The people love you! You're so thin and handsome, with thick golden hair! America loves the tariffs! America wants even MORE deportations! ICE is America's heroes! Americans will go hungry for you! Americans WANT billionaires to have MORE money and a fancy ballroom! Tears in my eyes and swear to God!
Men want to be you, women want to sleep with you, Putin fears you!
But none of those people, that inner inner hive of sycophants, toadies, suck-ups, brown-nosers, butt-snorkelers, fascism fellatiaters, and Nazi wannabes, none of THEM are surprised.
They knew. They'll ride this circus train as far as they can, but you can bet they've got their escape plans ready. There's a reason they've been sending all that money to Argentina, you bet.
Not the true believers, of course, they'll stay to the bitter end.
The ones Trump made. Mike Johnson, for example. He's a simpering weasel, the consummate coward, a little jack-booted bow-tied fascist, but he's LOYAL. He can clearly see the writing on the bunker walls. He knows. But he was nobody. No one. Nothing. Some 3rd tier unknown Congressman from some backwater district in a backwater state. MAGA lifted him up and gave him power and now he's the worst kind of Nazi, a fanatic.
He could. Even now. He could call the House back into session today, open government, swear in new members, release the Epstein files, and call for Trump's impeachment on that alone. He could yank MAGA right out from under Trump and heir-apparent Vance and seize the moment for himself.
Would that be better for America?
I don't know but I'm willing to find out.
He won't, of course. He can't. He never had the guts and never will.
He's Trump's dog, bought and paid for.
There's this scene in The Road Warrior. The Humungus has them surrounded and he's ranting over the loudspeaker and the Feral Kid pops out of a hole and throws his boomerang. The Toadie leaps to the rescue, I got it! I got it! and tries to snatch the flying steel out of the air. And the razor edge lops off the Toadies' fingers bip! bip! bip! Blood spurts. And the severed fingers fly away like little fat sausages!
But that's not the horrifying part.
There's the Toadie, kneeling in the sand, clutching his ruined hand -- a death sentence in the Wasteland and he knows it.
The Humungus starts to laugh.
The Warriors of the Wasteland laugh uproariously at the Toadies' misfortune.
The Defenders of the Juice start laughing too.
And the Toadie is such a sycophant, such a weasel, such a greasy little loser, that HE STARTS LAUGHING TOO. This sick, dying, pathetic laugh.
That's Mike Johnson, the Toadie to Trump's Humungus.
Last night really wasn't about Trump himself. Not really.
It's about Republicans. What they've become as a party. Mutants roaming the wasteland. Praying on the helpless and the ruins of civilization, consuming the last resources without a single thought to the future, scavengers who build nothing and live only for destruction and momentary self-satisfaction in an orgy of hate.
The Toadie could have ended it all by simply letting the boomerang take its course.
He sacrificed himself because he didn't have the courage to do anything else.
