Day 287: The Jet-Setting Sycophant and the Hunger Games of Governance

Demented Old Fuckwit Rambles in Heavily Edited Interview with CBS

Five years after storming off 60 Minutes like a toddler denied a toy, The Don returned to CBS for what can only be described as a televised ego massage disguised as journalism.

The segment — billed as his “first major interview since returning to office” — ran for 28 minutes on air, trimmed down from a staggering 90-minute recording. CBS later dumped a “73-minute extended cut” online, proving that even in 2025, some horrors are too long for prime time.

Across the interview, Norah O’Donnell did what most journalists apparently do when faced with The Mad King’s word salad — she nodded politely, smiled through the nonsense, and thanked him for his service to insanity.

This was not an interview. This was a 28-minute infomercial for delusion, produced by CBS and paid for in whatever remains of America’s dignity.

Halfway through, Donny — clearly in the advanced stages of ego-induced dementia — pulled out a sheet of paper and began bragging about all the “wars” he’s supposedly ended. Yes, a literal printout of peace, handed to him by some intern whose soul probably left their body months ago. He held it up proudly, as though it were his “Brave at the Dentist” sticker. No one recognized these “wars.” They exist only in Donny’s head — alongside his vocabulary and his sense of shame.

“We’ve ended eight wars in eight months,” he bragged, clutching the paper like it was the Magna Carta.

Sure, Donny. And I’m the Pope.

The performance was pure narcissistic kabuki — complete with rambling diatribes about “fake news,” veiled jabs at CBS over a lawsuit he already lost, and an awkward tangent about how Paramount’s sale to David and Larry Ellison was “the greatest thing to ever happen to free press.” (Translation: “People who like me bought a thing.”)

And O’Donnell? She just sat there, letting him unravel like a cable-knit sweater in a hurricane. No follow-ups, no pushback, no “sir, that’s complete gibberish.” Just the soft hum of complicity.

Let’s not forget: this entire spectacle comes after The Don sued CBS last year, accusing the network of “deceptive editing” in an interview with Kamala Harris — a lawsuit so flimsy it had virtually no chance of winning in court.

Yet, CBS, obsequious cowards and obeying in advance, ended up settling for $16 million just to please dear leader, agreeing to release transcripts of all future interviews with him — presumably so the public can see how bad they actually are.

This so-called “interview” was the perfect microcosm of the Donny era: a hollow man babbling about imaginary achievements while the media politely pretends it’s news.

What America got on Halloween weekend wasn’t journalism. It was a séance — CBS channeling the ghost of democracy and asking it to comment on Donny’s imaginary peace treaties.

If this is what passes for accountability now — a soft-focus sit-down with a delusional tyrant waving paperwork — then the Fourth Estate has officially checked out.

Jet, Set, Cover-Up: Kash Patel Uses FBI Plane for a Booty Call — Then Fires the Whistleblower

Kash Patel, ever the tantrum-prone courtier of Donny’s regime, used a government jet to fly to see his 27-year old girlfriend, country singer Alexis Wilkins. That’s the abuse of resources. Then, when the trip leaked — thanks to flight-tracking nerds and basic sunlight — he fired Steven Palmer, a 27-year Bureau veteran, not for misusing a plane, but for the cardinal sin of embarrassing the boss.

This isn’t discipline; it’s retaliation. The message from Patel’s FBI is crystal clear: the jet is for personal romance, the badge is for personal revenge, and anyone who tells the public what their taxes are paying for can pack a box.

Palmer becomes the third head of the critical incident response group tossed overboard under Patel, which is less “house-cleaning” and more fear-based purge. Meanwhile, Patel’s own taxpayer-funded Nashville hop stays conveniently unlabeled — the kind of “classified itinerary” that always seems to coincide with a weekend and a VIP wristband.

The scandal boils down to three steps:

• Abuse the plane.
• Get caught.
• Shoot the messenger.

Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity? Under The Don’s favorite enforcer, it’s Favors, Backbiting, Impunity. And the public trust? Grounded — unlike Kash’s love life, which keeps clearing for takeoff on your dime.

Big-Hearted, My Ass: The Mad King Builds Ballrooms While America Starves

Somewhere between the hunger lines and the gold-plated faucets, House Clown and Speaker Mike Johnson decided to call The Mad King “a big-hearted president.”

Yes, really. The same man holding the government hostage for 33 days, the same man pouring $300 million into a gilded ballroom while 42 million Americans lose their food assistance — that guy. Big-hearted. The word has officially lost all meaning.

It’s the kind of statement that makes you wonder if Johnson’s ever met a human being before, or if he just learned empathy from reading The Art of the Deal. While families ration food and federal workers line up at food banks, Donny’s busy commissioning chandeliers for his latest vanity project — a literal monument to his ego carved out of the White House. Meanwhile, his sycophants stand before cameras, wide-eyed, insisting that their gold-dipped despot is simply too compassionate for us mere mortals to comprehend.

It’s gaslighting of the highest order — the political equivalent of watching your house burn down and thanking the arsonist for his warmth.

Let’s be clear: there’s nothing “big-hearted” about letting millions of children go hungry while you build yourself a ballroom. There’s nothing compassionate about using federal workers as bargaining chips or starving the government into submission. There’s only vanity, cruelty, and breathtaking indifference.

Donny doesn’t lead; he holds the country hostage and calls it negotiation. He doesn’t build; he embellishes — everything, from the White House to the truth. And Mike Johnson? He’s not a Speaker; he’s a court jester, spinning tales about the king’s magnanimous heart while the peasants riot outside the palace gates.

The real tragedy is that this isn’t parody anymore — it’s policy. Compassion, under Donny’s reign, means feeding his ego while America starves.

So spare us the fairy tales, Mike. The only thing “big” about Donny is his ballroom, his ego, and the pile of broken lives left in his wake.