Dispatches From Morotai Island
By 
Hard as it may be to believe, this footage is from 2020:
The President is screaming about e-mails pic.twitter.com/XeSeiefagC— Acyn Torabi (@Acyn) September 18, 2020
And yet it makes sense in its own lunatic way. Donald Trump’s victory required a miraculous confluence of lucky flukes and constitutional anachronisms. But one of the very luckiest breaks was the nation’s elite political press collectively deciding that a story of no substantive or prurient interest about his opponent was the political story of the century, laying the context for both a sustained strategic ratfucking operation and an October Surprise from the Director of the FBI. The problem is that between running against a white guy the media likes and it being extremely difficult not to take the possibility of a candidate becoming president seriously when he’s the president, press coverage remains largely focused on him and the historic pandemic he’s massively fucking up. He spent 2016 having to play mini-putt, and he has no idea what to do now that he has to play Wingfoot. He’ll be babbling about 33,000 emails on his deathbed.