Trump attacked MSNBC’s Stephanie Rule after she smartly dissembled his tariff “plan” the other day on her news show. She’s brilliant. He’s not.
In answer to her critique the tired TV clown went into his ancient oldies-but-moldies material. Like me, he hasn’t written anything fresh in decades.
He desperately scavenges the floor of the internet for “ideas”. What did Alex Jones fart yesterday? Has Loomer dropped acid with Fox and Fools this morning? What rank abomination has spewed forth from the ranks Q-Anon today?
American viewers can smell derivative material, the common effluent produced by comics turned into stage hacks. Shecky Trump is a fumbling and rambling senile borscht belt dinner comic with material that’s decades old. Worse is watching him desperately trying clumsy new material.
Seeing if anything sticks. Anything.
Like in the old days.
Make my shtick great again.
There’s always his greatest hits. America has heard them. It’s a mean sport to watch him search for sputtered punch lines to conceal his utter ignorance of the realms he’s entering while America is reaching to turn the channel. And he knows it. The Secret Service has nothing for flop sweat.
He roasted Ruhl as best he could.
When he says his critic spews lies, his oldest shtick (yawn), it means he has no factual counter arguments. None. Change the channel. She nailed you, dumb ass. Get off stage. America is booing you and you know it. Your orange minstrel powder can’t hide the flop sweat. When he forgets his shtick he falls back on a soft shoe shuffle like it’s 1953.
Trump closed his tired familiar roast of Ruhl by projecting his shortcomings onto his critic, calling her, “low I.Q.”
Calling anyone “low I.Q.” is the low rung tactic of a low I.Q. comic who has no clue how to handle hecklers other than to ask someone in the audience to beat them up.
The empty cargo ships are arriving and no great meaningful deals are being struck and on America’s larger stage, he has no smart ass insult, only, “be patient”.
His shtick will never be fresh again. Your patience has evaporated. It will be a long four seasons for this show, with the ratings this low and the writing and production values this bad and your lead performer going Sunset Boulevard on the country all the way to Graceland.
He has gone the way of Elvis. He has the curse: The complete freedom to indulge every whim. No one in all of Graceland to say to Elvis, “No, Elvis. Put down that fried banana sandwich, that Oreo smoothie and that tray of pickled twinkies.”
And now Donald, our robustly corpulent orange Elvis, is on his gold toilet choking to death on his own feast of tariff burgers. I’m enjoying the show.
A well done roast!
A comparison I had never thought to make! Thank you, as usual, for your insight and "cut to the quick" instinct!