We Need To Talk About Trump's Deranged Digital Diarrhea

Donald Trump's schizodementiasyphilomania is acting up again. Or whatever it is. And it was acting up yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and it's usually a good thing to mostly ignore whatever comes out of the dark bowels of Trump's Twitter, because after all, he's the stupidest person currently alive on Planet Earth, and he's also a lazy fuck who doesn't go to work until Whatever Thirty in the afternoon, but ...

Well, either the Mueller Report, which paints him as an absolute criminal, is sending him spiraling into highly disturbing levels of mental decay, or it's possible that he knows something. Or maybe it's both. Maybe he's losing it because he knows the House is coming for him, and despite everything his White House is saying right now, he knows he has zero legal standing to stop the tsunami. Could be that!

So far this morning Trump has sent nine 10 tweets. He started here, with a deranged conspiracy theory from an obscure conservative fake news outfit about the United Kingdom spying on him, the day after the White House announced he's finally getting the state visit to the UK that nobody in the UK wants to give him, and which will probably be greeted by Brits pissing in the general direction of his motorcade:

You know, a good indicator of being literally crazy is being the only person in the room screaming about the Brits spying or the ghosts invading your underpants or the voices in your head or ... or, the Mexicans invading the underpants worn by the voices with British spy accents in your head. Speaking of Mexicans:

But then he went back in a different direction, to the Mueller Report, which VERY ABSOLUTELY exonerates him, and you can tell it does that by how cool, calm and collected he is about it:

We know the president isn't a reader, but we are, and millions of Americans are, and we've all actually read the Mueller Report. It lays more than a few gloves on him, both in exposing his campaign's foreknowledge of WikiLeaks releases, his campaign manager feeding polling data to the Russians, and oh yeah, about eleventy-thousand criminal counts of obstruction of justice. (To name just a few things in the Mueller Report.)

But what does he think he would do at the Supreme Court if he was impeached? Whine to Judge Rapey McKegstand? Impeachment is impeachment, motherfucker, and if the Senate convicts, YOU LEAVE.

Also, if he thinks $35 million is "unlimited money," then boy oh boy, that man is not as rich as he says he is. Has he ever even SEEN $35 million in his life? Would he get jizzy like a lottery winner if he got to hold it in his hands? Sad.

In case you didn't know he was upset about the Mueller Report ...

In case you didn't know he was upset about Mexicans ...

In case you didn't know he was upset about the Mueller Report ...

Yes, those were in chronological order. The president's brain is flailing back and forth, boomeranging to Mexicans and then back to home base, AKA the fractured dead space known as his central processing unit, then boomeranging to Mueller, then back to CPU. You'd think somebody in the White House would go check on him, but it's doubtful anybody loves him enough to care.

This comes after this whine from Trump last night:

Will Trump be given credit for the stock market? No. And what does that have to do with ... NO COLLUSION?

Tuesday morning -- before his bizarre private meeting with @Jack from Twitter -- Trump tweeted what your dead great grandpa would tweet about Twitter, if your dead great grandpa were to rise from the dead and immediately start imbibing Fox News conspiracy theories about the Illuminati and faked moon landings and Obama's fake birth certificate and Twitter shadow-banning:

"They're takin' people off the list! Nobody can sign on!" (He's mad he just lost a lot of Russian bot followers, AKA his most devoted followers. Seriously. That is reportedly why he pulled @Jack into his office, because his follower count went down.)

Also yesterday morning, he was upset about "Morning Psycho (Joe)," which we guess is his new clever "Nick (Name)" for Joe Scarborough:

And he was nostalgic for the "Old (Days)," which are a complete figment of his imagination, when the president was "immune from criticism" if the economy was good.

Oh yeah, and then there were his weird psychosexual fantasies where the New York Times gets down on his knees and sucks his dick for forgiveness, which included lies about the Times apologizing to him after the 2016 election, which is a thing that obviously did not happen. [Rebecca, who has a much less kind view of the New York Times, thinks it absolutely fucking did.]

We could go on. (And on and on and on and on and on and on.)

The man's digital diarrhea, as we said before, has been nonstop for quite a few days, and shows no sign of abating. Chris Cillizza tallied up the stats (yeah we know, "Cillizza," but let the man do what he gets paid untold riches to do, which is count up tweets) on Trump's recent activity, as of yesterday afternoon:

[O]ver the past 24 hours, Trump has tweeted (and retweeted) 52 things. In a 30-minute span on Monday night, he retweeted 24 items -- about nine different topics and from 15 people.

Cillizza asks the over-asked question "what if Obama had done this? What if Dubya had done this?" And those are fine questions, but seriously, what if your slightly forgetful DAD was behaving like this? Wouldn't you be worried he had turned the corner you always knew might come but were hoping never would, and was running headlong into full blown dementia? Wouldn't you convene your family (the "Cabinet") and see if maybe it's time to at least take the car keys away from dear old Dad (one might call this "invoking the 25th Amendment")?

We are just saying, impeachment might be too long to wait.

And since there's hardly anybody in the White House who actually follows Old Dipshit's orders, why don't y'all all drop the act and just do what's good for your country, OK?

President Brain Leak could be happily playing with blocks in a nursing home by dinnertime. Don't you think he'd love that? We think he'd love that.

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Evan Hurst

Evan Hurst is the managing 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.

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