Lately, I’m hearing way too damn much about the anti-American Donald Trump running for a third term in the office he disgraces on an hourly basis — and it needs to stop right now.
We are not even 10 months into this second reign of terror, and have more than enough to worry about without spending needless energy on a fever dream pouring from a madman’s sick and quickly diminishing mind.
Getting hung up on this third-term nonsense is not only stupid but self-defeating and dangerous. So let’s talk about reality for the next five minutes or so, instead of overheated conjecture.
I want to type with some precision about what the grotesque, 79-year-old Trump is, and what he is not.
Donald John Trump is provably an America-attacking, uncouth, convicted felon and bigoted slob who is both sick in mind and physical health. He drags his heavy left leg around with him like so many of his failed relationships. He visits the doctor more often than he goes to church, and lately has had more screenings than a 150-year-old house in a mosquito-infested swamp in Louisiana.
He is terminally ill, and second-term challenged.
He’s a morbidly obese mountain of hate, whose swollen ankles should hire one of the 1,200 lawyers he has in his employ, and sue for lack of support.
Just Monday, this lumbering lout casually bragged to a bunch of fawning reporters, “I got an MRI, it was perfect.”
This was significant news that as usual didn’t get the attention it deserved by an incompetent corporate media that has been brought to heel by their abuser with the short leash.
MRIs aren’t handed out at alleged routine medical checkups like lollipops.
“OK, Mr. Trump, let’s take your height, weight, and a MRI …”
Magnetic Resonance Imaging is used to detect and/or monitor potentially serious issues inside our bodies. The deteriorating Trump is a walking, talking medical crisis, and you don’t need a doctor to detect that.
I’ve typed for some time now that maybe instead of wondering if our country will survive these next three-plus years of Trump, this question should be asked instead: Will Trump survive these next three-plus years?
In Japan Tuesday, he spent part of the afternoon aimlessly wandering around Akasaka Palace like Frankenstein after an all-night bender at the biergarten. It has to be seen to be believed, as newly elected Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi does her best to keep Orange Frankenstein in her general vicinity.
This is where I feel obligated to tell you that if Joe Biden had been seen doing this, it would have been headline news for several months — the things bulletins are made of. With Trump it gets little to no mention at all, before attention is turned back to the 73 other circus events he has loosely choreographed, including insane talk of a third term.
Trump is in obvious failing health, so yapping about anything past next month, much less 2028, is a massive waste of everybody’s time. But that’s exactly what Trump did right after breathlessly breaking the news of his “perfect” MRI.
That’s when he said he “would love” a third term because of his “popularity with supporters,” who just can’t get enough of a guy who is about to end SNAP benefits for 42 million Americans, many of whom are THEM.
And oblige me while I stop here to remind you of this, before continuing:
Every bill to help feed people in my long lifetime has been passed by Democrats. Every bill to starve them has been passed by Republicans.
Look, in the next year or so, as the evidence mounts that Trump is deteriorating faster than a snowball in the Arizona desert, his health will finally grudgingly be flagged by the very so-called media experts, who are now fixated on this fictional third term.
So let me step to the head of the line and type this: He should resign immediately, and go off to spend whatever little time he has left on some golf course, dragging that leg around, stiffing caddies, and punishing golf carts and playing companions.
Meantime, there is something else that bothers me about these busted, cloudy forecasters who warn of another term despite the feeble, wandering old man who is right in front of their damn eyes: They are giving this 350-pound pile of sludge some form of inevitability and power he simply doesn’t have.
I understand Republicans have spent decades and billions of dollars turning our Constitution into some perverted document with optional wording, but the 22nd Amendment clearly spells out, “No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice.”
Stop normalizing something that should have never even been a thing.
Finally, by talking of this fictional third term, we are distracting from his myriad failings as both a president and a man. There’s a better-than-average chance this monster abused children with his dead buddy, Jeffrey Epstein. The list of Epstein’s worshippers that Trump’s bought-and-paid-for attorney general said was on her desk has allegedly gone missing, and with it evidence that would potentially tie him to absolutely unthinkable crimes.
Just a month ago, there was significant bipartisan steam behind getting these Epstein documents released. Every minute wasted talking about third terms sprinkled with fairy dust dissuades us from talking about how unfit for life this appalling man is.
But if you can’t get enough of worrying about things that will never happen, I’ll give you something pleasant to fixate on that most certainly will:
In the next 20 years or so, there will in fact be big talk of a Trump third term — maybe even a fourth or fifth one. History’s worst will convene, and Trump and his beady red eyes, will elbow his way further downward and make it clear in his special way that only he can handle the heat of yet another term in his new home.
That’s when I reckon, Lucifer will be only too happy to oblige …
- (D. Earl Stephens is the author of “Toxic Tales: A Caustic Collection of Donald J. Trump’s Very Important Letters” and finished up a 30-year career in journalism as the Managing Editor of Stars and Stripes. You can find all his work here.)
