Trumpville's hereditary royal family, Herr Donald and his clan, knew better than anyone what charlatans and pretenders they were but the takeover gave then legitimacy. Legitimacy they couldn't possibly handle or live up to. They could only run with it. And away from it. At the same time.
Run they did . . . as fast as they could, knowing the truth of their charade, that they weren't administrators of anything or politicians or diplomats but hopeless squanderers, habitual malcontents and congenital fuckups. Born hugely wealthy, they had been always on the verge of losing it.
That much money (it was a hell of a sum) can be hard to lose. They lost it anyway but stumbled into an opportunity to get paid to pretend. Acting! Thus the real scam began. Pretend to be a businessman. Pretend to be a boss. Pretend to be competent at anything. Pretend to be human and to give a shit.
Bellowing on for a four year term is hard work for someone who has never done anything. Whew! It was incredibly difficult to deflect attention from the truth, as visible as they were. A smoke screen of unprecedented verbiage was deployed. A torrent. The Mouth That Roared.
Unprecedented it was in its volume, quantity, and libelous and slanderous content. Understand, though it looked aggressive as hell, this was all defense. They were sitting on an empire of criminality and incompetence that had to be concealed. It has worked. They have an Entourage now.
A posse of predatory of followers and soulless, sycophantic slobs, the MAGAites. They will do anything for Herr Donald and his heirs. They will eat shit all day long. Trumpville has decamped to another fantasy palace, Mars-a-Lago, where host Herr Donald holds court and receives guests.
Donations pour into the MAGA Defense Fund, their latest gambit and front, another money pit, house of cards and tax dodge. Stay tuned to see how it will play out. Americans wanted their soap opera. They've got it now. Thank God, the nuclear football is subtracted from the plot. That was a bit much.
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