. . . it’s a real picture, not AI fantasy. And it’s harmless, though somewhat pathetic, macho exhibitionism — not terrifying, delusional mental decline.

When Donald Trump goes off on one of his daily social media rampages, he can’t very well offer us genuine photographs of bare-chested athleticism. Instead, he fantasizes about himself in AI-created heroic situations: as a hairy-chested Elvis, as Jesus healing the sick and injured, and now . . .

. . . as a compatriot of George Washington, showing off a ballroom that the first President of the United States would, in fact, never have envisioned for his country — a nation that was formed expressly to escape the excesses and inequities of monarchy.

In all fairness, it’s easy to understand how a man in Trump’s position might seek distractions from the pressures of a failing war, a sinking economy, a rock-bottom approval rating, and an untold number of health problems. Golf, for example.

But when he repeatedly retreats into a fantasy world, and shares those fantasies with the entire planet . . . well, think about what you would do if this were a member of your family. If he refused to seek help voluntarily, you’d probably stage an intervention, wouldn’t you?

And now ask yourself why no one has stepped up to help this poor, sick, doddering, deranged old man. Because that is what he has become, and it can no longer be shrugged off as Uncle Donald’s harmless eccentricity — not while he still has control of the nuclear codes.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/17/26