General Mark Milley is a hero. Donald Trump is a traitor. Trump is also an insane, inept, evil, lying cockroach. And Trump, his out-of-control id undoubtedly enraged by the courage and daring of General Milley, unloaded on Truth Social, his one friend in the night, the only friend that will receive him with tenderness.
Trump rambled about Milley, , going on and on, spewing poisonous toxins onto the social networking site, continuing his dark and self-humiliating stain of personal venom. He wrote that Milley had colluded against him with China and said that “in times gone by, the punishment for this would have been death.”
The blowback was immediate. “What kind of person threatens execution on a third-tier social media site?” Chris Christie demanded. I can answer that one — a man who is falling rapidly like a skydiver without a parachute.
A man who was born a loser and whose last weapons are his fingers that he uses to type his boiling and noxious cocktails of hate. A man who is on his way to prison, and who, like a piece of useless lint, is blowing away into the breezes of justice, and who cannot contain his blood-lust, his frenzy, his calls for vengeance at the people who see him for who he is.
These people, Milley included, might as well have searing lasers coming out of their eyes. They see right into the dark, carnivorous, destitute, hollow crevice that lies in place of where a human soul is supposed to be.
As awful as these virulent words were, they do give something away. They show that Trump, in the spirit of collapsing narcissists of history, is losing and has lost control.
His fear is leading him; he is peering up from the smoldering ashes, looking for an exit door, somewhere, anywhere, but knows on some level there is none. No exit for Donald Trump. No escape hatches, no safe spaces, just a smoldering sad sack of unfillable grievance, doomed to be alone, unwanted, and despised for the rest of his life.