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Did the Russians manipulate your mind?



When it comes to the 2016 election and Russian meddling, there are two kinds of people. One kind, which includes Trump, insists that, even if the Russians did meddle—which he denied for a year before kinda-sorta admitting it—it had no impact on the votes.

The other kind of person, which includes me, thinks that all those bots, trolls and fake posts indeed had a profound impact on the election, and handed it to Donald Trump.

The background of my theory is nearly thirty years of watching the systemic, sustained and mendacious attacks on both Hillary and Bill Clinton by the Republican attack machine. It began with fusillades against Hillary by such professional propagandists as Lee Atwater. Even before Bill Clinton was elected, her “I could have stayed home and baked cookies” comment put her in the conservative doghouse. How dare a woman not be content with being barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen?

After Clinton was elected, the Republican attacks mounted in fury. Watergate, Vince Fostergate, Travelgate, Oval Office Trash-gate when they left—the lies went on and on. In the years since, Hillary has been portrayed as the bitch, the castrating female, “Crooked Hillary,” the liar, the deceiver, the feminazi whom Rush Limbaugh and other misogynists rail against to this day. Although she’s probably been the most investigated woman in history, nobody has ever proven she did anything wrong.

But of course, to many Republicans who are inclined to hate anything Democratic, especially a strong woman, where there’s smoke, there must be fire. But I’m not concerned with diehard Republicans, who are incapable of logical thinking. I’m concerned with the swing voters who deserted Hillary in 2016 and voted for Trump. Why did they turn against a Democratic candidate who was so capable, experienced, conscientious, and had proven her capacity to listen and learn? For the answer, I have to cite an anecdote. It’s about a friend I had, and lost. “Sean” was as liberal as they come. He agreed with me on everything: protecting the environment, higher taxes on rich people and corporations, keeping religion out of governance, equal rights for the LGBTQ community. He recognized Trump as a lying oaf, a brute, a bully, a pig. And yet he voted for Trump.

In the months leading up to the election, we had many conversations, in which he would repeat his litany of allegations against Hillary. He hated her with a passion that was rare in his otherwise gentle soul. I wondered about it, until it hit me: I was hearing, not Sean, but a tape recording of the Republican attack machine. Out of Sean’s liberal mouth came every lie, insinuation, smear and resentment that ever poured forth from Fox “News” and rightwing talk radio over the decades. And Sean, who was about 44 years old, had been inhaling this stuff for most of his adult life. He was the victim of that poison; he sincerely believed Hillary was evil, although he could cite nothing in proof of it beyond his feelings. He was told it over and over before his youthful brain was even firmly developed to think logically.

I said this to Sean. “My friend, you don’t know it, but you have been indoctrinated with a virus of hatred for Hillary, and all your resentment isn’t really yours: your brain has been hacked.”

Well, Sean exploded. He felt I was implying he wasn’t his own man—that he couldn’t make up his own mind about what he thought. I was insulting him, he told me, with my insinuation that he hadn’t developed his thought all on his own, but was instead infected with somebody else’s. And, of course, if you multiply Sean by millions, you get Donald Trump’s electoral college victory.

So when I saw yesterday’s op-ed in the Wall Street Journal entitled “Are Russian Bots Controlling Your Thoughts?” I thought, Finally, somebody at the Wall Street Journal is publishing the truth: that Russian bots did control people’s thoughts in the run-up to the election. Unfortunately, as I read the op-ed piece, by Eric Dezenhall, I was quickly disabused of my hope. The headline was misleading: instead, Dezenhall puts himself squarely in the Trump camp when he says that stories of Russian influence on the election “conflate correlation with causation.” He concedes that Russia did meddle, or, as Dezenhall puts it, “We know that Russia made a hearty effort to sow discord in the U.S. election by undermining Hillary Clinton’s campaign.” Thank you, Mr. Dezenhall, for stating the obvious! But then, in the next sentence, he spouts the Trump line: “But that doesn’t mean the Kremlin’s efforts played the decisive role. There’s a big difference between influencing something and controlling it.”

Think about that. “There’s a big difference between influencing something and controlling it.” What the hell does that even mean? If I interpret it literally, Dezenhall admits that Russian bots might have “influenced” the election by making voters anti-Hillary. But he’s not willing to say those bots “controlled” the voters. What is the difference between influencing someone to vote a particular way and controlling their voting? Nobody is saying that Russian agents went into the voting booths and forced people to vote Republican at gunpoint. But I don’t see how anyone can rationally state that not a single vote was changed due to the Russian lies. That defies common sense. And if one vote was changed, then others were, many others. It seems likely to me that at least 90,000 voters in Michigan, Pennsylvania, Indiana and Ohio were “influenced” enough to vote for Trump over Hillary because they thought Hillary was an evil liar. And so we got President Trump.

This is the truth that Trump fears the most: that History will record his election as having been caused by the Russians. He can’t stand that: it drives him even crazier than the Mueller investigation. But that is precisely what History will say, because it’s true—and the propaganda efforts of people like Dezenhall, who attempt to muddy the waters by playing word games, will come to naught.

From the Personal Diary of HOPE CHARLOTTE HICKS



I am, like, so totally misunderstood! Seriously, Dear Diary, people think they know me but they don’t!!! I think they’re jealous. Just because I’m young, beautiful and smart, they want to drag me down. Well guess what Dear Diary? I’m a strong woman. I can take it. #MeToo.

I’m not saying Donald—I mean, Mister President—ever did anything inappropriate with me. Anything that happened was concensh—conshen—corntensh—oh darn it, Dear Diary, you know what I mean!!!! He didn’t grab me like those other ladies say he grabbed them. But I don’t think he grabbed them either. They’re liars. You know, people always try to sue him to get some money because they’re dirty little grubs. I was talking with Ivanka the other day—God, I love that girl!!!—and she was saying how much she hates those b*****s (I can’t really write the word b/c it’s dirty) and I do too! They’re all mad because they’re not young and beautiful and smart like me and Ivanka. Like it’s Donald’s, I mean Mister President’s fault they’re old uggers! I mean, get a life, ladies!!!!

People wanna know why I left. Well, Dear Diary, here’s something you can’t tell anyone!!!! I mean, lips sealed! Cross your heart and hope to die!!!! Well, three weeks ago Mister President and me were drinking slurpees on the Truman Balcony—it was kind of warm that day—and he put his hand on my knee and said, “Hopy-Dopy (that’s his endearing nickname for me, tee hee!), maybe it’s time you went back to being a model before you lose your looks.”

“How do you mean, Mister President?” I asked him. I mean, I’m only 29! And I look 19!!! I dermascrub every day, I have the best laser doctor in the District, I get two head-to-toe facials a week, I do my own hot-spot fillers and ultrasonic plumping, and I diet like there’s no tomorrow. Like, look at this skin, Dear Diary!!! Flawless!!! So I didn’t know what Mister President meant by “before you lose your looks.”

So I said, like, “Oh, Dompy (that’s my affectionate nickname for him), doesn’t Daddy-Waddy likey Baby-Boo any-moo?” (We tend to talk babytalk when we have those intimate moments together.) And he squeezed my knee even harder and then he moved his hand a little further up my thigh. You know, Dear Diary, people say he has tiny, fat hands, and they are kinda pudgy, and his fingers are cold. But he’s really very sweet. That’s what Melania doesn’t understand. She’s a hard one, that girl. I call her The Sloppy Slovenian. Her clothing is very couture, but when she’s off camera it’s, like, all sweats and T-shirts, and she hardly ever bathes. Like, on hot days, her pits smell like a garbage dump! And she doesn’t shave. Well, those Europeans are very—how should I say it?—well, like Donald, I mean, Mister President says, they’re not like us. Not American!!!!

I guess I could go back to being a model. Victoria’s Secret contacted me a while back and asked if I was interested, which I’m not. I won’t do skin anymore. I’d like to be a big T.V. star like Megyn Kelly. Somebody told me she makes, like, $15 million a year at NBC. And I’m just as pretty as her. Prettier! Besides she’s old, old, old!!!! Almost fifty. Eeewww. I can’t imagine being that old. I asked Donald, “Mister President, who do you think is prettier, me, Megyn Kelly or Melania?” and he stroked my hair and gave me a bite of his Big Mac. He’s such a giver!

I could use the money, to tell the truth, Dear Diary. My lawyer bill is up to $650,000 already. I don’t know what that mean man, Muller or whatever his name is, wants. He’s so dirty. I just know he’s a liberal, probably an Islamic radical who’s out to get Mister President. I could tell when I looked into his eyes. I’m very sensitive, as you know, Dear Diary, and I could tell I was looking into the soul of a Hater. It’s like Sean Hannity was saying, there are evil people out there and we have got to stop them!!!!

I asked Donald, I mean Mister President, if we could still see each other when I leave the White House and he said it was no problem, the Secret Service would take care of it. They’re so clever. I remember one night in Mar-a-Lago when Melania was there and they were entertaining some foreign dignatery, digatory, dingledary, well, you know, a very important personage from some foreign country someplace, and while Melania was having tea and cookies with him in the ballroom, the Secret Service brought me in through the servant’s entrance to Donald’s, I mean Mister President’s private apartment by the garden, and Melania never even knew! Tee hee, it makes me giggle. Donald told her he had to take an important call and he came to see me for, like, fifteen minutes, and then he put his pants back on and went back to the ballroom and I’m sure Melania was none the wiser! I do feel sorry for her, a little, but, like, her pre-nup is really gennarus, ghennerush, jinrus, oh poop, I mean, like, she gets $25 million when they split, so what does she have to complain about, anyway? Donald doesn’t bother her anymore. He told me her ass and hooters are really sagging and he hates that, he says she looks like Hillary! My ass, in case you’re wondering, is really buff, Dear Diary! And my boobies, well, not too shabby, thank you! I’m one girl that takes care of herself.

Anyway, Dear Diary, that awful Muller asked me if I keep a Diary and I said no. It was just a little white lie so I don’t think I did anything bad. Do you? Mmmmwahh, love you Diary!

When the Maximum Leader is insane



Much of the reporting lately has been how Trump is going crazy, as in this piece from PoliticusUSA that says he’s “depressed, angry and losing his mind” and this one from the Washington Post headlined “Pure madness: Dark days inside the White House as Trump shocks and rages.”

He is furious about losing so many key players—Jared, Hope Hicks, probably McMaster—and concerned about his constant quarrels with others, like Gen. Kelly and Sessions. He is increasingly freaked out by Mueller, annoyed how badly his tariff scheme blew up in his face, resentful about the ‘fake media,” upset by Ivanka’s mounting legal difficulties, torn between his NRA overlords and the 70% of Americans who want to ban assault weapons, apparently on the outs with an increasingly frigid Melania, who appears to loathe him. When Putin delivered the most belligerent speech I’ve heard any Russian leader give since Khrushchev, Trump was on Twitter, attacking Alec Baldwin and pretending he, Trump, gives a shit about Christianity and Billy Graham.

Oh well, just another day in the reality show known as “The White House.”

Woodward and Bernstein have left indelible word-portraits of another erratic and bizarre president, Richard Nixon, who was possibly high on booze and pills as he wandered the White House late at night, muttering to paintings, with Watergate oppressing him. The anecdote about him urging Kissinger to pray with him—Kissinger, an agnostic, lapsed Jew—could only have been leaked by Kissinger himself.

History accords many examples of other maximum leaders who went insane. Hitler supposedly threw tantrums, foamed at the mouth and chewed on the carpet when he was enraged. King George III, “Mad King George,” against whom Americans fought the Revolutionary War, had to be put into a straight jacket, behind bars, when he went into insane conniptions.

Another “Mad King,” Ludwig II of Bavaria, was deposed after accusations of insanity were lodged against him; his behaviors were said to include pathological shyness, avoidance of state business, complex and expensive flights of fancy, dining out of doors in cold weather and wearing heavy overcoats in summer, and sloppy and childish table manners.” And who could forget Caligula, who appointed his horse as a priest and Roman consul? But my favorite all-time mad emperor has got to be Sulla, the first century B.C. dictator of Rome, who ordered his bootmaker to be flogged to death because his new boots didn’t fit. If Sulla had lived today, no doubt he would have raged against the bootmaker on Twitter.

Politicians who are subordinate to insane leaders find themselves between a rock and a hard place. It’s difficult to tell a maximum leader he’s unfit to rule: you can easily lose your head. Caligula famously executed his political enemies by “chewing on their testicles…while they were restrained, upside down.”

In many ways, things are no different from Caligula’s time and our own. Trump’s people are as afraid of him as Caligula’s were of their master, although it’s not likely that Trump would eat their testicles.

Still, it’s worthwhile to ponder what our national leaders would do if and when it becomes apparent that Trump really has lost his marbles. I’ve written extensively about the 25th Amendment, for instance, here; that is one possibility. Impeachment seems implausible, what with a Senate and, especially, a House in which the Republican majorities are doubling down on Trump-style authoritarianism and fascism. The American people seem hopelessly divided: let’s say that 36% of them support Trump no matter what he does or what they find out about him. Even were every psychologist in America to swear that he is deranged, they would simply denounce psychology, and call it a fake, or Jewish, or liberal, or Islamic, or elitist snowflake hoax.

So we are exactly where we’ve been for more than a year now, except for this: Trump is melting down faster than the Arctic glaciers. Although we have no proof Republicans know this, I find it hard to believe they don’t. My thoughts wander over to the Republicans on the Supreme Court—not the committed crazies like Clarence Thomas, but the more “centrist” ones (if I can call them that), such as Roberts and Kennedy. Surely they see what’s happening. Surely they know. They must talk about Trump’s deterioration privately, amongst themselves, with their closest friends, with their families, with their law clerks. They are patriots. I wonder if, at the end of the day, the saviors of our nation will be, not Democrats, not “courageous” Republicans in the Congress (for there are none), but the conservative majority on SCOTUS. Co-equal to the Executive branch, they are in a position to warn about and, if necessary, eliminate a clear and present danger to the Republic.


Proud to live in a sanctuary city



If you don’t live in the San Francisco Bay Area, you might not have heard of the squabble between my Mayor here in Oakland, Libby Schaaf, and ICE, the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement department.

Briefly, last week Schaaf tweeted a formal warning to her city that “multiple credible sources” had told her of imminent raids throughout the Bay Area, including Oakland, against undocumented residents.

It was the lead story that night on all the news programs, as word filtered throughout the region and undocumented residents listened and prepared. Trump World was outraged, and almost immediately struck back: Jeff Sessions’ Justice Department announced they are “investigating whether…Schaaf obstructed justice by warning her residents of impending raids.” ICE issued a press release accusing “the Oakland mayor” of “increase[ing] the risk for [ICE] officers and alert[ing] criminal aliens.” The statement, by ICE’s deputy director Thomas Homan, said Schaaf’s “reckless decision was based on her political agenda.” The White House, needless to say, jumped in, with Sarah Huckabee Sanders calling Schaaf’s action “outrageous” and accusing Schaaf of putting ICE officers lives “in danger.”

The raids that Schaaf warned of did indeed take place, with more than 150 people arrested since last weekend. Schaaf, for her part, refused to back down. In a tweet, she wrote, “I do not regret sharing this information. It is Oakland’s legal right to be a sanctuary city and we have not broken any laws.”

My view is entirely supportive of what my Mayor, Libby Schaaf, did. I don’t always agree with her. I wish she were more supportive of the Oakland Police Department. I wish she were tougher on homelessness. I wish she didn’t give in to political pressure from every fringe group that takes over City Council meetings demanding things that will never happen.

But in this case, Schaaf got it right, and it took a great deal of courage for her to do what she did. Oakland, San Francisco and Berkeley are sanctuary cities. There’s a reason why we citizens feel the way we do about immigrants, legal or otherwise. It has to do with why the Bay Area is so militantly anti-Trump. It’s because we have lived side by side with immigrants, mainly from Mexico and Central America, for a very long time. They are part of our communities. We know how honest, hard-working and family-oriented they are. We also know how friendly and sweet they are. We understand that there are laws about legal entry into the U.S. but we also think that sometimes, those laws should be ignored (if they can’t be changed), in a kind of official benign neglect that recognizes the importance of our immigrants and the dignity they deserve. To call them “criminal aliens” is disgusting. It makes them sound like animals. The real animals, to me, are the tea party-evangelical-white supremacist haters who populate Trump World and tolerate the aberrant behavior of a rogue president.

Frankly, I see no reason why undocumented immigrants who are working hard and subscribing to American values can’t be left alone and given a path to citizenship. Trump and Fox “News” portray them all as MS-13. They know that’s a lie; it’s the same smear that was used against Italian-Americans by saying they’re all Mafia, or against the Japanese-Americans in World War II who were interned, or against gay people, for that matter, whom rightwing Christians insult on a daily basis by calling them pedophiles and recruiters.

Illegal immigration was never such a big deal in politics before Trump was elected. Why has it suddenly become a huge problem? To my way of thinking, there can be only one explanation: the Trump voters on the far right suffer from a combination of racism, xenophobia and faux patriotism. There’s something about dark-skinned people that annoys them; they think of themselves as the defenders of some ancient chivalrous code of whiteness—a code that never existed. Their anger is completely irrational, but it’s real—and Donald Trump understood it years ago and decided to take advantage of it by stoking their resentments and fears.

I’m very proud to live in Oakland and in a Bay Area that is so spiritual and moral. It feels good to be an outpost of civility, in a country where Red States are increasingly motivated by hatred. I would even go so far as to suggest that, if our citizens know that an ICE raid is about to occur, that we gather in force at the site and peacefully prevent arrests from being made. As Dr. King said, “Now we are reaching out for the daybreak of freedom and justice and equality.” The forces of Trump reach out for the nighttime of injustice, inequity and oppression. I know which side I’m on.

Have a wonderful weekend!

I’m glad Billy Graham is dead



The outpouring of sympathy for Billy Graham, including yesterday’s unusual Laying-in-State in the U.S. Capitol to honor him, was particularly offensive to the LGBTQ community, whom Graham castigated throughout his long ministry.

Gays have no reason not to be glad that the world is rid of one more homophobe. This was a man who spent decades ridiculing gays, stirring up resentment against them among his often unstable followers, and providing government and the courts with the religious justification to discriminate against gay people and deny them their freedom.

Among the hate speech Graham spewed were such tidbits as Homosexuality is an ungodly spirit of self-gratification” and “We traffic in homosexuality at the peril of our spiritual welfare. Your affection for another of your own sex is misdirected and will be judged by God’s holy standards.”

Another tidbit, this one thrown onto the dead bodies of tens of thousands of Americans: Is AIDS a judgment of God? I could not say for sure, but I think so.”

He was a strong advocate of “gay conversion therapy,” the highly controversial practice that many gays denounce as a form of psychological torture. Then there was the famous “Graham Rule,” also known as “the Pence Rule,” which advocates that “men avoid meeting, travelling or eating with a woman, other than one’s wife, alone, as a way of preventing infidelity or even the appearance of evil.”

Yes, because, as we all know, heterosexual Christian men, like Donald Trump and Billy Graham, can’t be trusted not to molest women if given the opportunity to do so!

I feel sorry for anyone who praises an individual whose mind was so psychologically aberrant and morally bereft, who issued such divisive and insulting jeremiads against millions of decent Americans. I expect the likes of Donald Trump and Paul Ryan to utter such stupidities as “Here lies America’s pastor” and “The GREAT Billy Graham is dead.” I expect rightwing bigots like Ben Carson, Jeff Sessions, Wilbur Ross and Rick Perry to “salute Graham’s coffin.”

But Democrats? Why the hell was Chuck Schumer there, bowing his head for this hater?

Bill Clinton? He was reported to have traveled to Charlotte, NC, “to pay his respects.” Respects for what? Crushing the civil rights of law-abiding American citizens? This does not redound to Clinton’s reputation, especially after he ushered in the unconstitutional “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and “Defense of Marriage” policies that even a conservative Republican Supreme Court could not stomach. At least Barack Obama had the good sense to avoid going to any of the memorial services, although Obama did kiss the Graham ring back in 2010. Of course, Obama’s snub of the recent services only fueled the latest round of Obama Derangement Syndrome from so-called “Christians.” The Christian News Service (“The Right News. Right Now”) reported the story, which resulted in scores of hate-filled screeds: “That says a lot about Obama doesn’t it?”, “Demons always turn and run at the very mention of the Name of Jesus”, “Does not surprise me because He’s a lying Muslim and he is finaly [sic] showing his true deceitful colours”, “He’d attend a memorial service for some two-bit thug”, “Now if it was Farrakan or Jeremiah Wright…”.

These are the fruits of Graham’s (and Trump’s, and the Republican Party’s) efforts to degrade, denigrate and denounce gays, Muslims and America’s first black president. This is the evil blossom that has grown from Graham’s polluted seed. Nobody should go to a Billy Graham memorial service without wearing a white sheet and saluting a burning cross. The man was as hateful a public figure as any this country has ever produced (and his son, Franklin, is worse); to have Billy Graham lay in state in the U.S. Capital is a disgrace. He was the poster child for the ignorant, rabble-rousing white “Christian” who wants a return to the good old days when blacks weren’t allowed to vote, women were chattel, and gays were murdered.

I hope, with the death of this mean-spirited bigot, that America has inched towards a brighter, more equal and inclusive future for all people.

From the personal diary of VLADIMIR V. PUTIN



Dear Comrade Diary,

It amuses me how puzzled American commentators are that U.S. President Donald Trump is refusing to blame Russia, or me personally, for the meddling that everyone knows happened.


Big story was Tuesday when Admiral Michael Rogers testified to U.S. Senate that President Trump has not directed him “to confront Russian cyber operators.” This surprises U.S. observers but not us Russians because we know that Mr. Trump will do nothing to stop us! As long as I possess that videotape he is stuck. Then too Trump Company and company of his son-in-law Jared Kushner owe Russia banks more than $1 billion and this is something we control them with.

I first met “The Donald” in 1998 when I was President of Russian Federation and he came to Moscow to talk to bankers regarding building international luxury hotel and apartments. I did not know who he was but my advisors told me he could be useful and to be nice to him, so we sent three prostitutes to his suite at Ritz-Carlton Hotel although that time we did not secretly tape the way we did later. But the prostitutes were debriefed by Russian security afterwards and from what I was told Mr. Trump had very bizarre tastes.

In 2014, during my first term as President, I reconnected with Donald. He was once again in Moscow with his son, Donald Jr. (a real idiot) to discuss terms for building new luxury hotel. I knew of course that he was interested in being U.S. President and so we began to cautiously cultivate him. I recall one dinner in particular at my apartments in The Kremlin. It was just the two of us plus my interpreter. I said to Donald, “We can probably help you to be President if you run.” He asked how. I explained how the Social Media aspect was wide open to manipulation and how my security people were exploiting it, starting with experiments in France and Sweden. He seemed very interested. It was on that voyage that Donald met with the prostitutes, again in Moscow, but this time we had his suite fully wired and were thus able to obtain the full videotape. I gave orders that Donald was to be informed of this and it was then that we arranged for Kisylak to so brief Donald Jr. on a visit to Trump Tower in 2016. This is what Kislyak told him.

“I have been instructed by President Putin to inform you, for the information of your father, that your father’s visit in 2014 to Moscow had been fully documented including the episode of the three prostitutes in suite at Moscow Grand Hotel. Videotape fully reveals Mr. Trump’s face and records his words, grunts and shouts as sexually perverted scene unfolds. President Putin expresses his eternal respect and affection for Mr. Trump and requests the fullest cooperation from Mr. Trump in future.”

Kislyak later told me that Trump appeared nervous and sat silent for some moments before expressing following reply: “Tell President Putin that I, Donald Trump, thank him and appreciate his eternal respect and affection. I, in turn, promise to aide and assist President Putin in any way I am able, and—should I run for President and be elected—I will do my utmost to help him.”

Well, Comrade Diary, look where we are now! All I can say is that Donald Trump has more than proven himself true to his word. He is loyal to a fault! It is frankly unbelievable to me and my colleagues how much he is standing up to his own intelligence services to challenge their assessment of our meddling in the U.S. election. As we say in Russian, Алты́нного во́ра ве́шают, а полти́нного че́ствуют—Little thieves are hanged, but great ones escape. Now, I have instructed my security people to conduct the most wide-sweeping cyber-espionage operation in the history of the world: to control the outcome of U.S. 2018 midterm elections. We know that President Trump will do nothing to stop us; neither will the Republicans in the Congress. I have now to decide which party we wish to win. I am not needlessly opposed to a Democratic takeover of the Congress, even if that means impeachment for President Trump who, after all, has now outlived his usefulness to me. Nor am I necessarily opposed to the Republicans maintaining their majorities. I need not reach a decision at this time, Dear Comrade Diary. The apparatus is being put into place; the infiltrations are happening even now, as our people hack into local voting machines with no resistance or protection from the Americans. My security advisors tell me I don’t have to decide which side will win the election until September 1, which coincidentally is anniversary of the start of World War II. I wonder what my illustrious predecessor, J.V. Stalin, would say, if he knew that a Russian President by himself could determine, not only who wins an American election, but even the margin of victory!

Donald Trump, Hero



People are making fun of me for saying I would have run into that school down in Florida and attacked that Cruz kid who was shooting the place up. Fine; let ‘em. I know it’s true and so do my fans.

And my position is entirely consistent with everything I’ve said and done in the past. Back in the Seventies and Eighties, I used to tell my girlfriends how I would have killed all those damn Viet Cong gooks if I’d have been in the Army during the war. I mean, I really wanted to join up, but those damn bone spurs—well, I went down to the Draft Board and showed ‘em to the Army docs, and the bastards gave me a deferment. “Disqualified for military service,” they said.

Man, was I heartbroken! I remember I went home and told Dad and asked him if he knew anybody important who could get me in. Turned out he didn’t. That’s one of the few regrets I have in life: I mean, while all those other brave American kids were over there fighting and dying, I had to hang out at Studio 54 with Roy Cohn, do coke and get laid!  I figure I had at least 1,000 bimbos in those days, and you know what, Dear Diary? Quite honestly, every time I was having sex, I thought to myself, “I’d rather be over there in Nam, protecting my great country’s freedom, instead of here in bed, humping this actress.” Believe me, it took a lot of the happiness out of getting laid!

For that matter, I really wanted to march with Dr. King! I was raised to value and respect Civil Rights and all that stuff. My Dad always told me how great the Blacks were as tenants. But I just couldn’t get away that summer to march with him. I don’t remember exactly why—I think there was a big badminton game at the club and we were the defending champs. But believe me, I would have marched with Dr. King if I could!

See, this is the thing people don’t know about me: I’m the first guy out there to defend freedom! I know for a fact exactly what I woulda done in Florida if I’d been there during the shooting. As soon as I heard the first gun shot, I would have burst in the front door–unarmed. Then, using my senses, which have always been very acute, I would have followed the sound of the gunfire to its source. Then I would have seen that Cruz killer, and I would have came charging through like a guided missile and rammed into the kid and taken him down! Then, while all the students and teachers were cheering me on, I would have beat the crap out of him. Yes, me, Donald Trump! That’s what I woulda done. I just wish I’d had the chance. There would have been a lot of alive students if it had been up to me.

Okay, Dear Diary, here’s something very few people know. I told Kelly I wanted to go over to some foreign country and kick some ass for America. I didn’t care where: maybe Syria, or Nigeria, or Mexico, maybe North Korea or France or—is there a war in Canada? Someplace where I could find these terrorists and wipe the street with them! That’s my nature, Dear Diary: to honor freedom and the dignity of all Americans, especially women. You know, I adore women; Ivanka will tell you that. But Kelly wouldn’t let me. “Mr. President,” he said, “your place is here, in the Oval Office.”

“John,” I said, “I won’t feel like I’m doing my fair share unless I can have a gun and go to some war zone and kill America’s enemies.” I remember we went back and forth, with Kelly saying “No” and me saying “I want to.” Sometimes, Dear Diary, he acts like he’s boss, instead of the other way around. I’d fire him, except that, politically, it wouldn’t look good. But one of these days he’s toast.

Anyhow that’s the side of me I wish more people knew about. The part that would have been a war hero if I didn’t have bone spurs. The part that woulda been right there on that bridge with the Freedom Riders, beside Congressman Lewis, if I could. The part that would have saved all those lives in that Florida school, if I could. The part that really wants to help the Dreamers. If it wasn’t for the #FakeNews liberal media, Americans would know these things about me!!! #Sad.

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