Don't talk to strangers.

Here's something light and airy for your Friday morning! Politico has a nice profile about "lonely" and "isolated" Donald Trump, and while it's a dark and disturbing insight into the president's psyche, it also reads like maybe Politico just plagiarized serial killer biographies, changing each reference to "Dahmer" or "Gacy" to "Donald Trump." You know that popular internet joke about how you can take the first line of literally any novel, and then add, "and then the murders began" and it ALWAYS WORKS? This is like that, which is horrifying.

We'll let you peruse the whole thing in its glory, but the general thesis is that with everybody talking about how lonely and isolated Trump is in the White House, that might be OK because he's always been that way, ever since he was borned:

He’s been a loner most of his life. At New York Military Academy, everybody knew him but few of his fellow cadets knew him well.


“He was and is a lonely man,” Jack O’Donnell, a former Trump casino executive, told me.

“One of the loneliest people I’ve ever met,” biographer Tim O’Brien said in an interview. “He lacks the emotional and sort of psychological architecture a person needs to build deep relationships with other people.”

It’s been this way always, because he’s always been foundationally, virulently untrusting. “There’s a wall Donald has that he never lets people penetrate,” a former associate told me. Trump has a dark, dour view of humanity. He considers the world “ruthless,” “brutal” and “cruel.” Through this zero-sum, dog-eat-dog lens, friends aren’t friends—there’s no such thing.

We used to think the animals were his real friends, until he started disemboweling them.

The interview relies heavily on recently Deep State-assassinated Trump pal Roger Stone, who actually has been Trump's friend for decades -- possibly his only actual friend. He clearly likes Trump, but even he sees this weird thing about him:

Now that he’s president, it seems these “self-isolating” tendencies have been exacerbated. I wondered if Stone agreed.

“I think,” Stone said, “that’s generally true, yes.”

When even Roger Stone can see your crazy, HOO BOY.

A couple more serial killer jokes, then we'll leave you to it:

The first people who really noticed Trump’s tendency to withdraw were his classmates. As a teenager at New York Military Academy, in upstate Cornwall-on-Hudson, he often disappeared into his solo room in the barracks after dinner.

At least they thought that's where he was going. No one really knew.

It was the same way, though, at Fordham University in the Bronx, where Trump spent his freshman and sophomore years of college playing on the squash team and wearing a three-piece suit to class. Trump and Brian Fitzgibbon sometimes carpooled to school because their families both lived in Jamaica Estates. They were “friendly,” Fitzgibbon said in an interview, but not “friends.” “I can’t recall any real friendships he had at Fordham,” he said. When Trump transferred from Fordham to the University of Pennsylvania, he left without telling people goodbye.

And that's when the bodies started to appear.

And it was no different, either, down in Philadelphia, where he studied real estate at the Wharton School of Finance and Commerce and boasted in class that he would be bigger than then-nonpareil Manhattan developer Bill Zeckendorf—but, for the most part, one classmate told the Daily Pennsylvanian, Trump “was really off by himself.” He didn’t participate in extracurricular activities or go to fraternity parties or football games. He returned every weekend to New York to work for his father collecting rents at his outer-borough apartment buildings.

The "I-95 Murders," they called them, because they happened every weekend, somewhere along I-95 between Philadelphia and New York. And he might have gotten away with it, until investigators noticed all the victims disappeared from furniture store parking lots. That would turn out to be the key to unraveling the string of murders that had so terrorized previously pastoral New Jersey. "He grabbed them after he took them furniture shopping," according to the lead investigator on the case. "He just couldn't help himself."

OK you get the point, and you are disturbed now by the antisocial creep in the White House, so this post is over.

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Evan Hurst

Evan Hurst is the senior editor of Wonkette, which means he is the boss of you, unless you are Rebecca, who is boss of him. His dog Lula is judging you right now.

Follow him on Twitter RIGHT HERE.

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