Day 268: The Mad King’s Mixed Bag of Madness: Hair, Hissy Fits, and Human Rights

The Floating Crown of Madness: Donny Loses His Mind Over a Time Magazine Photo

You’d think after brokering a so-called “historic” Gaza ceasefire — one that’s already unraveling faster than his spray tan in the rain — President Donald ‘King Don’ Trump might bask in the fleeting glow of something resembling accomplishment. But no. Because in the cracked mirror world of Donny’s psyche, policy doesn’t matter. What matters is the hair.

Time magazine ran a cover story praising his “role in peace negotiations.” The article — shockingly — was favorable. But all that goodwill went up in a puff of cheap cologne the moment Donny saw the accompanying photo. Taken from below, the shot showed the sun shining through his thinning thatch of Cheeto-colored fluff, producing what he derangedly called “a floating crown.”

On Truth Social, he ranted like a man personally betrayed by the laws of physics:

What are they doing and why? Probably just taking a normal photo, Donny — not conspiring with God to humiliate your scalp. But that’s the Trump mind for you: a gold-plated snow globe where everything revolves around him — his image, his reflection, his legend. He could personally discover a cure for cancer, and ten minutes later he’d be foaming online about how the photographers “made me look tired.”

This isn’t new behavior, of course. The Mad King has a long, pathetic history of trying to control his own mythology — from hanging fake Time covers at his golf clubs (seriously, fake covers), to reportedly making staffers adjust lighting so his “hair aura” looked right on camera. We’re talking about a man who once rage-tweeted that a wind turbine “made him look bad.”

And that’s the real story here: not the peace deal, not the diplomacy, but the bottomless vanity of a man who sees the presidency as an ongoing beauty contest judged by Fox & Friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Leader of the Free World: still fighting his greatest enemy — a bad camera angle and terrible hair.

The Mad King’s Ministry of Truth: Trump Revokes Visas for Thoughtcrime After Saint Charlie Kirk’s Canonization

Today, The Mad King Donny and his merry band of authoritarian sycophants have decided that free speech is just too damn free. The U.S. Department of State, now apparently moonlighting as the Ministry of Truth, has revoked the visas of six foreign nationals — from South Africa, Mexico, Brazil, and Paraguay — whose crime was posting opinions online.

What kind of opinions? Oh, the unspeakable: criticizing Charlie Kirk, the recently deceased right-wing influencer turned government-approved saint. Kirk, who spent his life cosplaying as a patriot while selling outrage like snake oil, was assassinated last month — a tragedy that the regime has repackaged into a propaganda goldmine. And in an act of divine self-worship, King Don posthumously awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom, declaring him a “martyr for truth.”

You can’t make this up. The man who made a career out of lying through his capped teeth now hands out medals for “truth.”

And the timing? Impeccable. Just as the administration elevates Saint Charlie to MAGA sainthood, it starts deporting people who dare to question the narrative. According to the State Department, the U.S. has “no obligation to host foreigners who wish death on Americans.” But let’s be honest — this isn’t about safety. It’s about silencing dissent.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio — America’s favorite malfunctioning AI of Christian nationalism — has been foreshadowing this for weeks, hinting that the administration could yank visas for anyone saying mean things about Trump’s golden boy. And his deputy, Christopher Landau, has gone full Orwell, urging people to report social media posts from visa applicants like some dystopian tattletale hotline.

Let’s pause on that for a moment: The U.S. government is now crowdsourcing snitching on foreigners’ tweets. Somewhere, Joseph McCarthy is slow-clapping from Hell.

This is what fascism looks like in the Instagram era — not jackboots and torchlit parades, but algorithms and surveillance, run by a regime so insecure that even emojis can trigger a deportation.

The message is clear: criticize The King or his saints, and you’re out. You don’t need to storm the Capitol or leak secrets; just post the wrong meme, and suddenly you’re on a no-fly list.

And all this in the so-called “Land of the Free.” The country that once bragged about the First Amendment now treats speech like contraband. Trump’s America doesn’t just reject dissent — it criminalizes it. This is the same administration that cheers “free speech” when Nazis march, but bans foreigners for sarcasm on the internet.

The irony is so thick you could build a wall out of it.

So here we are: King Don’s America, where truth is propaganda, dissent is treason, and the State Department runs on paranoia. The Founding Fathers would be spinning in their graves — if they weren’t already on a DHS watchlist.

Congratulations, America. The fascism is no longer creeping. It’s strutting proudly down Pennsylvania Avenue, draped in the flag, holding a deportation order, and humming God Bless the USA.

Another Day, Another Murder off the Venezuelan Coast

Somewhere between his daily tantrum on Truth Social and his latest fascist cosplay rally, Donny decided it was time to play Top Gun. So he ordered what he proudly described as a “lethal kinetic strike” (because “murder from the sky” didn’t sound patriotic enough) on a vessel off the coast of Venezuela. Again.

Six people are dead. Donny’s ego is intact. And — surprise! — there’s no actual evidence the boat was carrying drugs.

According to His Highness, the vessel was “affiliated with a Designated Terrorist Organization,” which in MAGA-speak means literally anyone south of Florida who doesn’t vote Republican. He offered zero proof, zero transparency, and zero remorse — which is the holy trinity of Trumpian governance.

This marks the fifth such bombing in the Caribbean this year, bringing Donny’s little maritime massacre tally to 27 deaths — and that’s just the ones we know about. It’s like the War on Drugs, except instead of seizing cocaine, he’s seizing headlines.

The administration insists these attacks are part of a noble crusade to stop “narco-terrorism.” What they actually are is extrajudicial murder with better branding. Legal experts, international watchdogs, and anyone with a functioning brain have all pointed out that drug traffickers aren’t “combatants,” and blowing up fishing boats is not, in fact, a legal military strategy.

The Senate — that hollowed-out shell of a legislative body — had a chance to rein him in. A bill that would’ve required Congressional approval for future airstrikes on “drug-trafficking vessels” failed, because apparently the Founding Fathers didn’t foresee a day when the Commander-in-Chief would bomb the Caribbean like it’s his personal arcade game.

And let’s talk about this “Designated Terrorist Organization” nonsense. The Don's administration has started labeling Latin American cartels as foreign terrorist groups, which sounds tough until you realize it’s just a loophole — a way to turn law enforcement into warfare. Once you call them terrorists, you can drop bombs without asking anyone’s permission.

This is how empires rot — quietly, bureaucratically, under the cover of “security.”

But Donny’s not thinking about international law or regional stability. He’s thinking about ratings. He’s thinking about how “kinetic strike” sounds like something a strongman would say before riding a tank through a parade. He’s probably thinking about how cool he looked signing the order — chest puffed out, chin doubled, basking in the glow of total impunity.

And so, the Caribbean becomes his new sandbox. F-35s patrol the skies, warships circle the coast, and the world watches as America’s narcissist-in-chief cosplays as Commander of the Apocalypse.

No one knows who those six dead people were. Fishermen? Smugglers? Civilians? It doesn’t matter. The press release is written, the photo ops are ready, and the Mad King gets another headline that says “STRONG.”

Meanwhile, the rest of us are left staring at the wreckage — six corpses floating in international waters — wondering how much longer this country can survive a president who thinks bombing boats is the same thing as leadership.

This isn’t a war on drugs. It’s a war on truth, law, and basic human decency.

Donny Threatens to Cancel Sports Because He Can’t Cancel Reality

Picture it: the White House Rose Garden, flags flapping, cameras rolling, and The Don — America’s self-appointed monarch — standing beside Javier Milei, Argentina’s chainsaw-wielding libertarian-in-chief. It was supposed to be a cordial press event about a $20 billion bailout for Argentina. Instead, it turned into The Mad King’s latest delusional flex, this time aimed not at Congress, not at NATO, but at the World Cup.

Yes, really.

With all the gravitas of a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving, Donny announced he was “considering pressuring FIFA” to relocate 2026 World Cup games out of Boston because of — wait for it — “street takeovers” and “violence.” You heard that right: the man whose supporters once stormed the Capitol now thinks Boston is too dangerous to host a soccer match.

And because the crazy train never stops at just one station, he also threatened to go after Los Angeles — host of the 2028 Olympics — citing “wildfire safety.” Translation: California votes blue, so let’s punish them.

Let’s be clear here: he can’t actually do this. The president of the United States has about as much authority over FIFA as he does over the moon. But that’s never stopped The Don from pretending. What he lacks in legal power, he makes up for in narcissistic bluster — because for him, governance is just performance art with fascist undertones.

Standing next to him, Milei — who looks like a man perpetually on the verge of challenging someone to a sword duel — nodded along like this was all perfectly reasonable. Two egos, one microphone, zero grasp of reality.

The alleged trigger for Donny’s tantrum was a street takeover in Boston where cops got attacked and a squad car went up in flames. Terrible? Sure. National crisis? No. But Donny saw an opportunity: why not turn a local policing issue into another authoritarian fantasy about “taking control” of unruly cities — by threatening to strip them of international prestige unless they bow to his imagined authority?

This is the Trump playbook in its purest form:

Find chaos (or invent it).

Blame Democrats.

Threaten punishment that’s legally impossible but politically useful.

Bask in the applause of sycophants who mistake tyranny for strength.

Never mind that the World Cup will inject billions into local economies or that Boston has hosted large-scale global events without incident. None of that matters in the Church of Donny, where the only thing sacred is his ability to dominate a news cycle with pure, uncut bullshit.

His comments weren’t about safety — they were about control. About reminding America that, under Trumpism, nothing is beyond his reach: not cities, not states, not even international sports federations. It’s all just clay for The Mad King to mold in his own grotesque image.

So now, somewhere in Zurich, FIFA execs are nervously sipping espresso while trying to decide whether they should humor him or just block his number. Meanwhile, Los Angeles is wondering if it needs wildfire insurance or a coup defense plan.

Because in the end, this isn’t about soccer or safety — it’s about the fascist instinct to rule everything, from the border to the ball game. Donny can’t stand a world where something — anything — happens without his royal seal of approval.

The 2026 World Cup may still take place in Boston. The 2028 Olympics will probably still light their torch in L.A. But make no mistake — The Don’s message was clear:

“If I can’t own it, I’ll burn it.”

Donny Declares ABC ‘Fake News’ for the Crime of Asking Questions

Another day, another presidential hissy fit. The Mad King Donny, America’s answer to Mussolini with Wi-Fi, has once again turned a routine press event into a public therapy session — this time during a sitdown with Argentina’s resident chaos merchant, Javier Milei.

As reporters tried to do their jobs — you know, asking questions, the cornerstone of this whole “free press” thing — Donny shut it down faster than a fact-checker at a MAGA rally.

And just like that, the Leader of the Free World declared a national emergency — because George Stephanopoulos hurt JD Vance’s feelings on television.

Let’s back up. What did “Fake News ABC” actually do to the Vice President? Did they dox him? Hack his emails? Reveal that his favorite bedtime story is Mein Kampf? No. They asked him a basic question: where did the $50,000 cash bribe go — you know, the one the FBI caught Tom Homan, Trump’s border czar, accepting on tape in 2024.

Vance’s response was a masterclass in incoherence. He denied, deflected, played dumb, then denied again — sometimes in the same sentence. When Stephanopoulos pressed, Vance suddenly developed Selective Amnesia Syndrome, insisting he didn’t even understand what a bribe was.

“Accepting $50,000 for doing what, George?” he sputtered. “Is it illegal to take a payment for doing services?”

The correct answer, in case the White House is wondering, is yes. It’s very illegal. It’s called a bribe.

The interview was such a spectacular car crash that Stephanopoulos had to pull the plug — and that’s what sent The Don’s fragile ego into orbit. Now, instead of answering questions about corruption in his administration, he’s lashing out at the press for exposing it.

This is Trump’s America in a nutshell: the truth is the enemy, and journalism is a personal insult.

He’s not even pretending anymore. What used to be dog whistles about “fake news” are now outright bans. He’s turning the White House press pool into his own little echo chamber — a safe space for sycophants, flatterers, and whoever still believes JD Vance knows what the word “law” means.

Meanwhile, Vice President Vance, the human embodiment of a brown-nosing LinkedIn post, is probably still somewhere Googling “what is a bribe?” and praying the FBI doesn’t find whatever mattress that $50,000 ended up under.

But here’s the thing: Donny’s meltdown isn’t just about vengeance. It’s about control. Every time he silences a reporter, every time he calls a network “fake,” he’s not just protecting his cronies — he’s training his audience to ignore reality. To see truth as treachery. To believe that loyalty is journalism and scrutiny is sin.

So when The Mad King stands at the podium next to Argentina’s own libertarian cartoon character and declares, “I don’t take questions from ABC,” it’s not just cowardice. It’s strategy. He’s turning censorship into performance art — authoritarianism with applause lines.

But here’s the irony: if JD Vance hadn’t imploded so spectacularly on national TV, Donny wouldn’t even have this excuse to wage another war on the press. His entire presidency is one long tantrum against accountability — a man who can’t handle questions leading a government allergic to answers.

And that, more than the bribes, the lies, or the endless propaganda, is what makes Trumpism so dangerous: it’s not just about silencing dissent — it’s about making silence normal.

The King doesn’t want journalists. He wants courtiers. And he’ll keep calling it “fake news” until every camera in the room points up at his throne.