By The Ghost of HST
March 18, 2025
Another savage lurch into the abyss, another day of Trump gnawing on the Constitution like a rabid dog. This time, he’s decided that court orders are for suckers, citing the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to deport 261 alleged gang members to Venezuela—despite a federal judge’s explicit ruling to stop. The official justification? The planes took off before the judge’s ruling was written down. That’s the kind of legal defense you expect from a Vegas con man dodging a casino debt, not the President of the United States.
Judge James Boasberg, the latest casualty in Trump’s war on reality, fired back with the restrained anger of a man who just watched his authority get flushed down a golden toilet. But it was Chief Justice John Roberts who really delivered the gut punch—stepping down from his ivory perch to remind Trump, in the measured tone of a man explaining gravity to a toddler, that you cannot impeach judges just because they hurt your feelings. But Trump has never been one for rules. Rules are for people who lose, and in his mind, he never loses—he just finds new ways to cheat.
Meanwhile, Missouri Attorney General Andrew Bailey, a man who would sell his own grandmother for a retweet from Trump, has decided it’s time to investigate whether Joe Biden even knows what’s happening around him. This is part of the long con—if you can’t erase an election, you can at least declare the winner too senile to count. A convenient little trick from the dictator’s playbook: when reality doesn’t fit your needs, you simply declare it invalid and move on.
But that’s just the appetizer. The real beast slouching toward Washington is Project 2025, a Frankenstein’s monster of right-wing fever dreams and revenge fantasies. Trump isn’t just looking to win—he’s looking to dismantle the entire concept of independent government. Watchdog agencies? Gutted. Universities? Stripped of funding unless they start churning out good little foot soldiers for the cause. The press? One lawsuit away from total submission. Trump has never been about governing—he’s about domination. And now he has the tools to make sure no one gets in his way again.
And now, like a coked-up gorilla with a wrecking ball, Trump is smashing his way through America’s last remaining alliances, starting with Australia. His latest tantrum? Slapping tariffs on steel and aluminum like some deranged mob boss shaking down his own business partners. The Australians, God bless them, are trying to play it cool, but you can feel the tension—like a bar fight about to erupt, where the drunk bastard picking fights doesn’t realize he’s outnumbered. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese is standing there, holding his beer, calculating just how much longer he has to pretend this isn’t a complete disaster.
But Trump doesn’t care. He never cares. He’s a man who was born into chaos and has spent every waking moment since trying to spread it like an infectious disease. And now, with every institution he ever feared either crumbling or cowering, he’s finally in his element—smashing the gears, laughing as the machine grinds itself into dust. The courts are trying to hold the line, the alliances are holding on by a thread, but the whole damn thing is creaking under the weight of this lunatic’s ego. And somewhere, deep in the rotten core of it all, Trump is grinning because he knows exactly what no one else wants to admit: the system was never built to stop a man like him—and it might be too late to start now.
