There’s something different about Donald Trump today
Something is happening. It’s Sunday afternoon. I stare at the skies as if they can tell me in their soft blue whispers what is happening to Donald John Trump. Whatever it is, it’s enormous. Donald Trump is not OK. We knew that. But the fact is the depth of his fall into insanity—the depth really is bottomless.
He is on some sort of an escalator to some form of dystopian universe only he can see. There’s something happening, and it’s showing itself more with each passing day, like a little monster hiding behind trees, slowly and terrifyingly revealing itself.
Only this isn’t some cheap horror flick. This is reality. Donald Trump posted on Truth Social something so twisted, so insane, so utterly bereft of SANITY that I do not believe anyone could look at this posting and think sanity has not forever deserted him.
Here’s some of what he said about Kamala Harris and her crowd size. Look closely at what is going on:
“Has anyone noticed that Kamala CHEATED at the airport?”
“There was nobody at the plane.”
“She A.I.’D” it.”
“So-called followers. BUT THEY DIDN’T EXIST.”
“She was turned in by a maintenance worker at the airport.”
“When he noticed the fake crowd picture.”
“Later confirmed by the reflection of the mirror like finish on the Vice Presidential plane.”
“She’s a CHEATER.”
She’s had NOBODY waiting.”
“Same thing is happening with her fake crowds at her speeches.”
“She should be disqualified because the creation of a fake image is ELECTION INTERFERENCE.””
He is speaking of himself though he does not know it.
Did a shiver just go down your spine? It should have.Because we have never seen anything like it, not in a million insane Donald Trump posts. Not in two million.
Something is happening. He has matriculated at the University of psychotic criminals. Witness the anger, the wild lies, the FUTILITY in every letter that he writes. Something is different. Here’s what it is.
Nighttime is the time of cackling predators, of monsters, real or imagined, hiding behind trees, under rocks, waiting till twilight vanishes and darkness sets in. That is when these mutants make their approach. It always seems to be in the evening hours, late into the night, when the hounds of wickedness come out, evil clowns in the night—only that’s not what’s happening here.
The madness has claimed him — from dawn till dusk. Something is happening, and that something is insanity. It’s no longer confined to a few mad scrawls in the dead of night, in the withering darkness.
Now it’s ALL the time, my friends; every waking moment, his narcissist collapse appears almost complete, for he is firmly in the grip of insanity’s snake-like fingers and is not going to emerge anytime soon or — ever.
