Chump is bewildering

[Sir X]

George C. Parker if he were a politician he would be president - The Art of the deal Y2K.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_C._Parker

[Gamma]

crazy is as crazy does

[Willi]

What did he say?

[Willi]

Here is an alternate view and this guy is genreally left wing!

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Trump scorches Dallas: why it matters

The hollow people. The Hillary, the Jeb, the Biden.

by Jon Rappoport
September 15, 2015


Give any one of them the election and you'll get more of the high-flying soap-opera brain-eating rhetoric that covers the Globalist agenda and Globalist crimes, that signals the pandering for votes.

Biz as usual. Business on a stick. Corn dog on a stick.

Hollow Hillary: "There cannot be true democracy unless all citizens are able to participate fully in the lives of their country."

Zzzzz. Can I have a little ketchup on my corn dog?

Hollow Hillary: "It is time to put policy ahead of politics and success ahead of the status quo. It is time for a new strategy to produce what we need: a stable Iraq government that takes over for its own people so our troops can finish their job."

Can I have a little mayo on my corn dog?

Hollow Hillary: "At the end of the day, the American people are going to be faced with some very tough judgments, because, at the current course this president is pursuing, I'm afraid that the next president will inherit this situation, with all of its complexity and all of its heartbreak..."

Can I have a little cheese on my corn dog?

Hollow Jeb: "I think we need to lift our spirits and have high, lofty expectations for this great country of ours."

Can I have a few more chlorine ice cubes in my Coke?

Hollow Jeb: "Governors have to balance budgets. And they have to make decisions. And they have to do things that sometimes aren't popular. And they also have to bring people together to try to solve problems."

Can I have a few more rubbery fries from last week?

This is the kind of language we've become used to.

Grown in a lab, then left to rot. Sick substance. Low-grade fever. Robot plastic for robot minds.

"What? I didn't think there was anything wrong with that language. It's what politicians and leaders do. It's expected. It's actually comfortable."

Yes, comfortable, like a sheet drawn over a dead body in a police case that will never be solved.

"Hillary and Jeb weren't able to make it to the debate tonight. But they left messages for the viewing audience. We're bringing those messages in, in a hermetically sealed aluminum container. No one has read the words yet. A representative from Price Waterhouse will now cut the seals and reveal the contents. Every syllable was created by a special computer buried on the moon..."

So last night Trump strolls into a hall in Dallas, lays down his ten-gallon hat and his six-guns and talks for an hour or so to an audience of 20,000 without a teleprompter.

He says, "Cheer or boo if you like the media."

He says, "The [illegal immigrant] gangs will be outta hear so friggn' fast...We have to stop this sanctuary city crap...I refuse to eat Oreo [cookies] anymore. They're moving from Chicago to Mexico...[I'll lay on a] 35% tax [tariff] on cars from [American car companies] coming in [from their plants in Mexico]...I'll make the announcement at 9am...and I'm going to get the call from the CEO of Ford...Mr. President [Trump], I think you are doing the wrong thing...by 5pm [that day]...Ford will be bringing the plants back to the USA...Obamacare: we're going to repeal it..."

He says he's going to wipe out the huge trade deficits with China, Japan, and Mexico. Make new deals, better deals. Therefore, new jobs in America.

He's letting it all hang out. He's thinking as he's talking. He's remembering all the things he hates about American politics and politicians and bumbling American negotiators. He cuts himself off while talking about trade deals and abruptly launches into an attack on Obamacare and John Kerry and the Iran deal and then mentions that he, Trump, knows everything there is to know about making deals, and he knows the greatest and toughest and most ruthless negotiators in the world, and he will bring them on board to reverse the lousy self-destructive deals the US has made with other governments...

He's all over the map. He's going to build a great beautiful Trump Wall at the Mexican border for a few billion dollars and Mexico will pay for it and they'll be happy to pay for it, because not paying for it will endanger the 50- billion-dollar trade advantage they have with the US---an advantage he is personally going to shrink anyway.

In the history of America, no politician has ever made a speech like this. Not in front of 20,000 people, not with his big poll numbers.

Of course, most of America still believes in the hollow people, the Hillary, the Jeb, the Biden. At least they say they do. But inside, where no one can see, they believe they're trapped and they want to get out. They sense that this creature, Trump, is aware of the trap and he wants to spring it. He's talking the way they would, if they dared to.

The jobs have gone away. The money has gone away. For half the country, this is Food Stamp America and Welfare America and NAFTA America and hunger America.

And Trump seems to be talking about jobs. Money. Better days. He's not talking about how the country was founded on racist principles. He's not talking about God. He's talking about people going back to work. And it's not just what he's talking about, but how.

He's slinging mud. He's mocking his opponents. He's bragging. He's angry. He's enjoying himself. He's off the cuff. He's a crazy stream of consciousness in a buttoned-up media-tized America. He could load up on coffee and talk for three days straight and turn out a book. He's a lava-flowing subconscious in a moonscape of a nation.

He's looking at the US as a business that's going down the toilet, and he's going to take it over and fire all the slackers and fakers and dolts and hangars-on and morons and revamp it and send it into orbit.

He's going to slap around the news anchors and the talk-show hosts and the Eastern establishment journalists with their nasal superiority complexes.

Bring up the name of any famous person and Trump will say, "I know him. He's a really nice guy, but he's an idiot. He just doesn't know what he's talking about. He lives in my building. I see him all the time. He's a great guy. He's not an idiot, but he's, let's say, wrong on every issue..."

He's saying, "Look, you people have been worshiping wealth and money and power for a long time. Well, I have, too. And I made it. I'm on top. So you can choose me, or you can choose one of those closet socialists who wants commissars and agencies and rules and endless red tape that strangles everybody. You can choose a cowboy who doesn't care what people think, or you can choose a pampered android who talks in circles. You can choose somebody who wants the government to run the whole show in America and drives us into bankruptcy and poverty for the sake of humanity, or you can choose me."


Trump is a walled-off subconscious bubbling up to the surface and leaping across the landscape.

Ultimately, he isn't about politics. He's about crazy bad sometimes funny poetry exploding out of the hollow caverns of fear and paralysis in which the population lives.

Most people have no clue about this, but what the country needs is take-no-prisoners poets. And if Trump is the first one to jump into the political fray in a while, so be it.

The hollow candidates have nothing. No matter what they say, they're excreting android public relations energy. They're cheap realtors with cardboard houses they need to push. They're like doctors hustling for patients. They're holding up X-rays and offering drug prescriptions and making false diagnoses at every turn. They're rubber-glove-wearing grotesqueries standing in the cold half-light of offices with anatomy charts on the walls.

They're death warmed over and death cooled down and death on wheels preaching living death.