. . .

Because yesterday, the President of the United States, a man allegedly in charge of a nuclear arsenal and not the early bird special at Golden Corral, held a fully televised Cabinet meeting after staying up all night shitposting like a sleep paralyzed warlock fighting imaginary goblins on Truth Social until dawn.

He could have rescheduled. He could have swapped things on his calendar. He could have taken a nap or drunk a Pedialyte or eaten a cracker or simply not invited a camera crew to watch him drift into unconsciousness in real time like a barnacle coated sea mammal nodding off on a warm rock.

. . .

Secretary of State Marco Rubio sat beside him, gazing at his slumped leathery idol. He announced to the entire world that only Donald Trump, the unconscious garden gnome beside him, was strong enough to end Russia’s war in Ukraine.

Trump was asleep. Fully asleep. Full REM cycle snore farting asleep. The NodFather. Don Snoreleone. The human sleep mode. The seventy nine year old toddler dreaming his presidential fantasies behind eyelids that looked like two slices of warm bologna stapled to a dying flashlight.

. . .