Trump Begs & Pleads in the Saddest Nobel Prize Campaign Ever

Keep you in the dark. You know they all pretend. Keep you in the dark. And so it all began - Foo Fighters, "The Pretender"

Blue Letter

Trump Begs for a Nobel While Putin Pins on His Real Medal

Donald Trump is the most pathetically-insecure, perpetually-thirsty, aesthetically cankled empty husk of a human to ever waddle across a golf course while cheating.

His entire existence is a cry for acceptance from the angels—measured not in character, gravitas or creation, but richness, ratings, riot and real-estate monstrosities—i.e. the garish buildings with which he’s befouled with his name. He’s a man who wakes up in a stink-sweat about how Forbes will report his net worth.

A prat of a poltroon whom, to create the worth his self clearly lacks, is seemingly in a constant contest with Goldfinger to see how how much gaudy gold he can showcase to suffocate the natural life force of any room.

In other words, the perfect gilded a*hole for this, our next gilded age.

But none of that is good enough, because there’s a shadow that follows Don everywhere he wanders. Constantly murmuring that his dad never loved him or saw him as a success. It makes poor Don-Don violently angry.

And makes him such a perfect fit for the incessantly aggrieved chodes of MAGA.

So, the latest affirmation Trump simply must have is a Nobel Peace Prize. And he must have it for not having done anything for peace. Except, perhaps, being too lazy to start any wars, because, ya know, like infrastructure week and an alternative to Obamacare, wars take lots of work, man.

But, hey, the Black President won a Nobel, so he sure as hell better get one too!

The comical-yet-pitiful result is that he and his entire staff just won’t stop begging for a Nobel Prize for The Great Man. Especially, busy caretaker for her elderly husband, Karoline Leavitt. Also quite vocal on this, Trump’s nomination gift of spare parts from Peter Thiel known as J.D. Vance.

I’d call it all unbecoming, but, lol, this is Donald Trump we’re talking about.

So a man who’s never met a bombing he didn’t boast about (“he died like a dog”), hasn’t stopped war between Israel and Iran (hell, even bombed Iran!) or Azerbaijan and Armenia, as he claims (the Azeris ethnically cleansed Armenian Artsakh), is so desperate for elite applause he’s just begging, pleading for this validator.

As if the support of D- list actors isn’t enough.

It’s not just cringe—it’s like watching your drunk uncle at Thanksgiving tell you he scored the winning touchdown at seventh-grade recess for the fiftieth time, and still expecting the damn trophy he never got.

I mean, can’t he just make one out of paper mache, write “Nobelle” on it, hang it around his neck? Maybe take a picture and put it on one of his golf club walls like he did with the fake issue of Time Magazine with him as Man of the Year?

Or just say he won it, in the way he kept regurgitating—like a Trump Tower burger—the claim that the Detroit Economic Club had named him Man of Year. Which would be challenging, as they don’t happen to give out that award.

Maybe they gave him *a concept of an award?*

And, obviously, besides being called in for a performance review by the boss, it’s another motivation for his sit-down with vicious mass murderer Putin on American soil—or is it Russia? Who can keep track of these things.

In any case, no, he won’t win the Nobel for trying to reward Russian warmaking any more than Slobadan Milosevic or Attila the Hun might gain the honor for their wondrous works in the Balkans. But don’t worry, Don, there’s another award you got locked down!

Yep during your meeting with Vlad, that Order of Lenin has your name written all over it!

If you can just convince your handler, Pootie, that you’ll finally stop huffing paint and do your one job—you had one job!—that motivated him to help install you in the first place: deliver Ukraine. On the plus side, after your Helsinki bootlicking and general cheerleading for his bloodbath in Ukraine, you at least should get a nomination.

Especially when we include that time you may have enjoyed yet even more gold while showering in a Russian hotel room, giving Putin a lifetime treat. He’s gotta appreciate that.

So sure, five bankruptcies, three marriages, two impeachments, one court decision convicting you of 34 felony counts are quite the resume. And you did avoid Vietnam with those very nasty bone spurs suddenly discovered a Trump-family-friendly doctor.

Honestly, who can say you didn’t help promote peace in Southeast Asia—or at least a safer environment for Vietnamese women—by doing that??

I’ll leave you with this. You’ve already won one award, which perhaps you don’t appreciate. There’s literally no human—or non-human—on Earth who’s left a tidal-wave wake of destruction from failure in business, personal and political life than you have and is still walking around a free man—hell, even President.

You literally have received the largest participation trophy in the annals of the known world. Add all the the Confederate Statues and all the busts of Russian Communists, we’re only getting maybe 33% of the way towards you.

So you have your award! Display it proudly, Don! Even if of course you crave more. Such is the life of a man of cavernous need and cockloche demeanor.

As Americans, we may have lots of challenges, but at least we have this going for us. We can never hate you as much as you hate yourself.

---

THIS WEEK ON AMPED UP!

Quite a show this week! David Shuster co-hosted as usual, and used a word that rhymes w bro-knob to explain Trump’s Putin meeting. And we were off to the races! Malcolm Nance was our guest, and he’s a Navy guy, so salty talk comes easy. And I grew up in late 70s/80s New York City. The NY of Warriors and Death Wish…so let’s say this show took a hysterical turn 🤣

We also handled serious issues; the war in Ukraine, Epstein, etc. A Must Watch, my friends!!

---

VIDEO ON DEMAND!

Never-Ending Republican Hypocrisy