#just another trump scam

[qqueenofhades]

i registered to vote for the first time ( i feel old) now that im an adult but my state has closed primary elections which i was wondering if you have an opinion about. my initial thought was that its bad because i had to register democrat (rather than my states green party which represents my beliefs more) just so i could vote between democrat candidates, which feels like being pressured into supporting the weird pseudo two party system we have. but then i looked it up and apparently a reason for this is so that people from opposing parties wont purposefully mess up the votes just so that their preferred candidates have an easier time winning, and i think that makes sense too. but is that actually the reason theyve closed it or is it just to force us dem/republican?? cause it feels strange

Okay, look. I respect the fact that you're a young person, and I appreciate that you have not only registered to vote, but plan to vote in the primaries, so I don't want to lecture you too much. That said: I am taking you out for coffee, I am sitting you down, I am looking into your eyes, and I am urgently telling you the following:

The Green Party is a scam. It is a scam. It has existed for decades in American politics as an empty shell corporation weaponizing the good intentions of young people like yourself, because all it theoretically stands for "it's good to save the planet maybe." Which is not something that any non-insane person seriously disagrees with, but there is no world in which that cause is actually furthered by registering/voting Green (you mentioned that you did vote for Democrats, which -- good, but listen to me here, youngun, okay?) It ran Jill Stein in 2016 to siphon more votes from HRC, and this election it plans to run Cornel West, a pro-Russian tankie who positively equated Bernie and Trump, as another spoiler candidate. It does not stand for "protecting the planet" or America in any real way. It has never elected a single senator or congressman, let alone a president. It stands for empty performance/grievance political theater by those people who feel too morally superior to vote for/affiliate with Democrats, often because the internet has told them that it's not Cool or Hip or Progressive enough.

If your main priority is climate/the environment, you're doing the right thing by registering as a Democrat and voting for Democrats. (Also: the adjectival form is Democratic. It is the Democratic party and Democratic candidates, otherwise you sound like the Fox News host who wrote a book literally entitled "The Democrat Party Hates America.") They are the only major party who has in fact passed major climate legislation and have made environmental justice a central tenet of their platform. As opposed to the Republicans, whose Project 2025, along with the rest of its nightmare fascist prescriptions, openly pledges to completely wreck existing climate protections and forbid any new ones, just because we weren't all dying fast enough under their death-cult rule already. That's the main logical fallacy I don't get among both the Online Leftists and the American electorate in general: "the Democrats aren't doing quite enough as I'd like, so I'll enable the active wrecking ball insane lunatics to get in power and ruin even the progress we HAVE managed to make!" Like. How does that even make sense?

On a federal level, the Greens have contributed nothing whatsoever of tangible value to American or international climate policy/legislation, environmental justice, or anything else, because as noted, they don't have any elected candidates and mostly focus on drawing voters away from Democrats. There might be plenty of good candidates on the local or city level, which -- great! Vote away for Greens if they're available, or the only other option is a Republican! But on the federal/primary level, please understand: once again, they are a scam. There is no point in affiliating yourself with them. You're welcome to register Green and vote Democratic, if that makes you feel better or if you prefer having another label next to your name, but once again, I'm telling you in my position as a salty Tumblr elder that they have done nothing but harm to the causes they claim to care about, because "environment" is such a nebulous priority and has demonstrably been hijacked to stop the American government entity, i.e. the Democrats, that is actually working to improve on it.

As for your question: nobody is "forcing" or "pressuring" you to vote in primaries. By your own admission, you made a conscious choice to register as a Democrat in order to vote for Democratic candidates. If you were just a regular registered voter of whatever party affiliation, you would vote in the general election for whatever candidate the primary process produced. But if you are sufficiently vested and committed to that process that you would like to have a say in who is running under that party label, it is not unreasonable that you would register as a member of that party. Nobody has twisted your arm behind your back and made you do so; you are taking a considerable level of initiative on your own. Likewise, open primaries can be both a good and bad thing. This falls under the "the political system we have is flawed, but we can't magically pretend it doesn't exist and act according to our own fantasyland versions of reality" thing that I keep saying over and over. So yes, if you want a role in shaping the Democratic candidates who emerge from a Democratic primary process, you will usually register as a Democrat, and nobody has forced you to do that. It's that simple.

Likewise as a general programming note: I'm trying to cut back on politics a bit right now, because I don't have the spoons/bandwidth/mental health to deal with it. I apologize. So if you've sent me a politics-related ask recently and haven't received a response, I'm not deliberately or maliciously ignoring you; I just am not able to handle it as much as usual and will have to put it on pause. However, I feel as if this is important enough to be worth saying, so, yeah.

[robertreich]

Trump’s Tax Scam: Why Nothing Trickled Down 

The Trump tax cuts were a YUGE scam.

But this November we have a chance to end this trickle-down hoax once and for all.

Donald Trump’s biggest legislative achievement (if you want to even call it that) was the 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.

The law permanently slashed corporate taxes and temporarily cut income tax rates mostly for rich individuals through the year 2025. The results were worse than I could have imagined.

Trump and his officials claimed the tax cuts would lead to corporations hiring more workers and would “very conservatively” lead to a $4,000 boost in household incomes.

What actually happened in the years since?

In AT&T’s case, the company saw its overall federal tax bill drop by 81%. It spent 31 times more on dividends and stock buybacks to enrich wealthy shareholders than it paid it in taxes. Meanwhile, it slashed over 40,000 jobs.

That was par for the course with Trump’s tax cuts.

Like AT&T, America’s biggest corporations didn’t use their tax savings to increase productivity or reward workers. Instead, they increased their stock buybacks and dividends.

Many of them, including AT&T, even ended up paying their executives more in some years than what they paid Uncle Sam.    

Those executives (along with other high earners) then got to keep more of their earnings because Trump’s tax cuts for individuals were heavily skewed toward the rich. The lowest earners? They got squat.

And many middle-income families saw their taxes go up.

And those supposed $4,000 raises, did you get one?

The bottom line is that Trump’s tax law fueled a massive transfer of wealth into the hands of the rich and powerful. Corporate profits have skyrocketed. U.S. billionaire wealth has more than DOUBLED since 2018.

The tax cuts have also added $2 trillion to the national debt so far, but that hasn’t stopped Trump and the so-called “party of fiscal responsibility” from doubling down on renewing them.

If Trump is reelected and Republicans take control of Congress, they’re planning to renew the expiring tax cuts for individuals that primarily benefited the rich. This would cost $4.6 trillion over the next decade, more than double the cost of the original tax cuts.

Trump has also threatened to lower the corporate tax rate even further from 21% to 15% — which would cost another $1 trillion.

It’s trickle-down economics on steroids.

All of this would cause the federal deficit and debt to soar — which Republicans will then use as an excuse to cut spending on government programs the rest of us rely on.

But the Democrats have their own tax plan. We can make it a reality this November. What would it do? Just the opposite of Trump’s tax plan.

ONE: It would increase taxes on wealthy individuals with incomes in excess of $400,000 a year, while cutting taxes for lower-income Americans.

TWO: It would make billionaires pay at least 25 percent of their incomes in taxes, still leaving them with plenty left over.

THREE: It would raise the corporate income tax to 28 percent, which is about what it was in 1990.

LASTLY, it would quadruple the tax on stock buybacks to get corporations to invest more of their earnings in workers’ wages and productivity instead of windfalls for investors.

So the real choice is between the Republicans’ plan to make the rich much richer, and the Democrats’ plan to make the rich pay their fair share and provide what Americans need.

Which do you want?

[luciacaminoz]

NEW GAME+ (2.6k)

"Third law of Kindred kinematics," Julian calls, voice slicing through smog and car-horn-choir blare. He taps his temple. "Momentum's a bitch until you become the bitch."

March 2021

Sol crouches, calves coiled, eyes tracking the labyrinth of rooftops and laundry lines spiderwebbing across Colonia Independencia. The night market’s cacophony—braying norteño accordions, sizzling cabrito, vendors hawking bootleg PS5s, Cartier replicas, Trump piñatas—thrums five stories down.

A neon crucifix above the club, Carnicería Diablo, dominates in cherry-red over the green glow of OXXO and farmacia signs this side of the district. Monterrey’s greater skyline pulses in the distance—a sodium vapor haze of LED billboards plastered with Tecate, telecom scams, and a vaping Santa Muerte.

She takes off running, sneakers pelting sun-baked aluminium, the warehouse rooftop groaning under weight as she vaults an HVAC unit. Julian echoes ahead:

“Castillo!” His silhouette leans on a satellite dish two buildings over, backlit by the Fundidora smokestacks and a yellow sickle moon. “The whole point is that you’re supposed to keep up!”

She snarls, rousing the Blood—reigniting veins like struck matches. The leap sends her arcing over a yawning alley where dumpsters reek of lye and rotting carnitas, and for three glorious seconds, flight feels possible…

Then her knee buckles on impact.

“Fuck—!”

Sol slams into a small water tower, claws screeching against rusted metal. Julian’s laugh bounces off the Banco de México’s glass facade as he zips onto a fire escape, effortless.

“Oh man. Gotta stick the landing, chica.”

“Eat shit!” She flings a loose bolt at him. He ducks, still laughing, and jumps the railing straight into a sprint across the steel bar latched between tenements.

Sol grits her teeth and pushes off the tower, vitae drumming in her ears; dead nerves lighting up, stretched puppet-taut.

The city becomes a strobe—glimpses of a meth cook’s startled face in a garret window, feral cats scattering from overturned buckets, Julian’s black windbreaker flapping like a raven’s wings. He hurdles an electricity box with arrogant finesse before he’s a glitch, rocketing ahead.

“Left!” His voice comes from everywhere and nowhere.

She swerves hard, nearly clotheslining on a low-hanging cable. A Chihuahua yips from a rooftop garden, tiny teeth snapping where her ankle just was.

”Wrong left, Solona!”

She pivots back, claws gouging mortar as she flings herself onto a wrought-iron balcony. The metal shrieks. Her knee slams into a potted bougainvillea—petals explode like confetti.

Julian’s perched another storey up, hood pulled low over his eyes, grinning down.

Dick.

“You’re thinking too mortal. Flow with it.”

Flow with it.

Jesus, she wants so badly to fuck him off. Instead, she leaps for the drainage pipe.

Her foot slips.

Julian’s hand clamps her wrist mid-air—then a sickening full-body lurch as he yanks her up beside him.

“Relax,” he says. His thumb brushes her raw knuckles. “You’re forcing it. Let the Blood lead.”

She shoves him off.

“I am.”

“No. You’re button-mashing then panicking. This isn’t Protean, Sol—and you aren’t manipulating vitae with Sorcery. Celerity’s about rhythm. You’re all…” His palm slaps the low wall of concrete beside them in an unpleasant staccato. “When you should be…” His fingers dance smooth up her arm, light as a MIDI beat.

Suddenly she’s trying hard not to smile.

“Stop flirting with metaphors.”

“Who’s flirting?” Julian pulls her in by the elbow, pecks her nose. “Again.”

———

First foothold: crumbling concrete. Second: a railing crusted with pigeon shit. Her muscles scream, legs pistons with stripped screws—every part of her body suddenly fledgling-fresh, mortal-clumsy. The world blurs at the edges, colors smearing like wet ink, and—fuckfuckfuck—she’s overshooting—

—Until Julian’s arm hooks her waist.

“Solona. You’ve gotta feather the gas, not floor it.”

Sol jostles free.

“I know.”

“Do you, though?” He twirls what looks like a USB, taunting. “Because that was—”

She swipes for it. Julian fucking dissolves, reappearing six feet away atop an AC unit.

He tuts and pockets the drive, phone (matte black, graphene-thin, quantum circuitry prototype) already in his other hand. He points with it. “One more time. From the PEMEX sign.”

“Julian—”

His phone chirps a Mario power-up sound.

“Again. C’mon.”

———

Vitae’s still humming wrong—like chewing foil, like fucking in someone else’s skin—as she sprints along the gas station’s platform onto the farmacia. For a second’s stretch, she flies by spires gutted into strip dens and nightclubs, over cartel-owned taquerías, above abuelitas pushing strollers around the plaza of Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad. Julian flickers between adobe and solar panels, occasionally pausing to mock-applaud.

Gravity remembers her once she’s airborne.

Sol hits the next roof’s edge too hard, too fast, ribs audibly cracking against parapet, claws scrabbling for purchase. Mortar dust fills her mouth as she dangles, legs kicking over a sixty-foot drop.

“Fuck!”

Julian’s there instantly, hauling her up by the scruff of her hoodie.

“Fucking Looney Tunes Discipline. I hate it,” she spits.

“Hate it faster.” He fires the thumb drive-sized device into the air—it sails across another gap, lands with a clink in a zinc chimney. “Next one’s got a timer. Tick-tock.”

———

She almost clears.

Almost.

Her shin splats against the ledge. Vitae sprays. She eats shit, claws shredding concrete until she grinds to a stop.

Julian’s waiting, picking at his nails with his karambit.

“Six seconds.” He checks an imaginary watch. “That grandma with a walker down there could’ve outrun you.”

Sol coughs gravel out of her throat, then rubs the rest from her palms.

“Fuck your metrics. And fuck that grandma.”

“Fuck your form.” He holsters the knife, looking at her, serious. “You’re burning through blood like a Toreador at Coachella. Short bursts—controlled, yes, but let vitae carry you. Observe—” He demonstrates, blurring strides with preternatural precision between each frame of movement, “—then reset. Like, y’know, checkpoints.”

———

So that’s what two miles round of AC units become—blink to the first, pause, blink to the next. Her vision swims in technicolor motion, kaleidoscopic afterimages—Mexican flags, flailing limbs, Julian’s smirk—astigmatisms of her own making.

Here, the EDM lounges of Zona Rosa war with Bad Bunny bleating from armoured Suburbans stuck bumper to bumper; here, diesel rain and fried masa cling to the humid Spring night.

“Better,” Julian says. “Now add a wall run.”

Add a wall run—wh—motherfu—

He launches himself at a neighboring building, sneakers hitting brick at a 70-degree angle, displacing air so seamlessly it’s pornographic.

And then he’s gone—no tell-tale, footsteps barely kissing rebar.

Sol—still jagged, coltish; arguably a little more fluid—follows only the idea of Julian Sim until the last of Monterrey’s colonial corpse gives way to the cranes of half-built luxury condos and mirror-chrome high rises.

Her young Sire’s a suggestion in techweave and neon-trim when he slows, rippling back into her line of sight to drape them both in the not-there. Light bends as they pass security cams, Julian staying within range to better flex Obfuscate. It probably would’ve been the easier choice of Discipline for her arsenal too, if—

“Keep the pace!”

Short bursts. Checkpoints.

They slalom through Calle Morelos’ circuit board esophagus of pristine tech start-ups, soldered with glass walkways, six lanes of headlights, screaming ads for Pacífico and VPNs. Julian dances ahead, but Sol’s not lagging far behind.

Her next leap sings smooth as a struck bell, braid arcing like a scorpion’s tail, rust flakes kicked up behind her on sheet metal. Julian's piercings flash when he glances back, grin softening at the edges.

She rolls, liquid shoulder-tuck; comes up running, bones intact—vitae burning through marrow like fucking nitrous, laughter unfurling wild in dead lungs.

Julian whistles.

"There she is."

They gain storey upon storey, the Haqimite electric, the Caitiff stick-shift, racing through the carcass of opulence—future penthouse suites now just I-beams and Ethernet cables.

Sol vaults on gazelle legs over a pallet of marble, soars through a cloud of fiberglass dust, and lands a neat meter from where Julian perches like e-boy Icarus, sneakers swinging above oblivion on the 18th floor.

A crane hook scrapes idly against naked concrete, plastic sheeting snapping in desert winds. Distant gunfire, three blocks east, percussive as a bassline. Suburbia sprawls for miles to the south, narco-mansions manicured and glittering all through the foothills of Sierra Madre in the north.

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back on his hand. “You missed this.”

“Missed your bullshit? Like a fucking migraine.”

He laughs. The wind whips her hoodie tight when she turns. His gaze lingers. She pretends not to notice.

Sol makes a point of surveying their midnight spread of Nuevo León once more as Julian chatters—about the city, the safehouse, their ghouls. Not the op. When she does flop beside him, feet also dangling, she stares ahead.

“You did good,” he says.

Their hands brush, then Julian’s pinky hooks hers. The motion itself is a relic.

Sol stiffens but stays. She glances at him.

He’s already looking.

A car backfires.

“Last stretch.” Julian nods toward the next buildings cutting smog. Smaller, plainer apartment complexes that will no doubt extort based on location alone once complete. “Race you?”

———

Sol’s surge is crystalline.

Julian’s right—Celerity isn’t Protean’s feral lunge, or Blood Sorcery’s calculated simmer. It’s rhythm.

She sees him ahead mid-vault, one arm outstretched behind, hair fanning like ink spilled in zero-G. Sees her own hand reaching—

Their fingers brush.

Julian's smile unfolds frame by frame: the curl of his bottom lip, the tapered apple of his cheeks, diamond-cut incisors—mesmerisingly symmetrical.

Sol's chest hits his back—

—and they’re a double helix spinning weightless—

—the city dilating below—

—a Bosch triptych halogen-spotted—

—gravity reasserts.

They crash through a skylight into an unfinished loft—glass explodes, shards spattering like prismatic shivs in the rich gleam of Monterrey’s nightlife.

Julian’s laughing.

He manages to land in a crouch for that microsecond before Sol hits half-sprawled on top of him, talons buried in the meat of his thigh.

"Fuck!"

"Sorry!"

He grabs her wrist, yanking her claws free.

"Put those things away. They’re banned.”

And then Sol’s laughing, righting herself to straddle him.

Shared Blood syncopates; rushes to pool where cold skin meets cold skin—an old tug of vitae, ten years frayed, easier to ignore now… uneasy in its familiarity. Julian's hands rest at her hips; one thumb digging into the hummingbirds there, the other circling. Her Beast purrs under his attention.

Below, in the neighboring apartments, a señora screams about flying demons.

"You really gotta work on your dismount,” he murmurs.

Sol’s eyes are flame-flecked staring down at him, pupils still slit with Protean bleeding through. Julian’s are black holes, event horizons.

The world narrows to:

The tick of her nail against his earring as claws retract.

The rogue strand of black hair stuck to his temple.

The tremble in her lower lip.

The way his Blood suddenly thrums beneath her palm, sparking warmth, simulating life—for her.

Julian’s hand rises—a languid arc, giving Sol every chance to pull back—and cradles her jaw.

“Solona…” has never sounded so much like surrender.

Time collapses honey-thick.

Slow as gangrene, sweet as sepsis.

The kiss unfolds in negative space—

Her mouth finds his.

His lips part.

She bites down just enough to taste the salt-iron synaptic burst, wintergreen gum of him, and Julian groans, low and wrecked, flicking into her fangs. His tongue drags deep along hers, insistent, sucking gently.

Dust motes spiral around them, suspended in strips of moonlight like Denver’s snow. She fists his jacket and grinds down where they’re pressed together—he makes that noise, that fucking noise, the one that starts in his diaphragm and splits into a whimper. His hands slip under her hoodie, skating up her waist, ribs, spine; Sol breaks the kiss to wrench the thing off—

A laser dot blooms red on Julian’s temple.

Celerity—him? her?—tears them sideways before the shot cracks reality back to real-time.

The Beast rattles caged and violent through bodies in a startled feedback loop. Sol’s shoulder dislocates with a nauseating pop as they go rolling across subflooring. The round pulverizes the pillar Julian’s head had just been in front of.

“MOVE—”

She’s already on her feet, dragging him by the arm into a sprint. Three more shots web the walls as they drop through holes between floors.

They hit the first intact emergency staircase by the 8th landing, Julian hacking the whole fucking grid with one hand while Sol half-hauls, half-guides him with the other. A door blows inward from another round—she feels the heat blister her cheek and panics, hissing and spilling back into a service corridor.

Fuck—neither of them have Kevlar tonight.

“Incendiary! What the fuck do we—”

“Left! Left left LEFT—”

Julian’s free hand vise-locks around her wrist as he pivots. Sneakers skid in tandem through standing water and discarded safety netting.

The corridor dead-end’s with an empty elevator shaft, car stranded above between floors. Bullets stitch the air behind them.

“JUMP!”

Maybe her equilibrium short-circuits.

Maybe Julian pushes her.

The ground tilts.

A drunk’s vomit hangs mid-air, chunky and iridescent, far across the lot.

The first delicate clinks of Modelo as a toast is caught in bird’s eye tableau.

An organillero’s note warps infinite, final fermata, outside fine dining.

Windshear.

Fear and velocity braid with the Blood.

Two Kindred ricochet off galvanized support beams like fucking pinballs.

The trumpet blows.

Laughter; someone drops their beer—more laughter.

Vomit splatters cobblestone.

Sol’s knees give way at the bottom. Julian catches her elbow, pulls her up running. They hit a clean sprint through the ground level, emerge out onto the construction site.

“See? Rhythm!”

“Fucking move your ass!”

Police sirens wail across downtown’s throb of traffic and tourists; more gunfire—not sniper rounds; seemingly unrelated—popcorns in a favela alley.

Somewhere, the norteño band butchers Depeche Mode for a bachelor party.

Somewhere, a shovelhead gets their throat torn out.

A quarter-second burst risks them through a gap in tail lights.

Neon smears at the marquee—7-Eleven green, taco stand orange, strip club pinks and violets.

Kine-slow, predators blend with prey: a crowd of football fans stumbling from a cantina; Julian’s hand still grasping Sol’s wrist.

They slip under a gothic arch into community gardens. It’s a chessboard of terracotta and steel to the rooftops. They drop down on the other side—an empty backstreet lined with dumpsters—and Julian flicks the not-USB from his pocket.

Hunger gnaws at Sol’s broken ribs.

Both vampires are a mess—plaster and scratches all over their hands and faces; her leggings and hoodie torn where she snagged on rebar and fell through glass, the outer thigh of his joggers partly shredded from her nails.

“Fuck, we were sloppy.”

“DAAE?” Sol scans the balconies above.

“Not that simple,” Julian snaps, eyes glued to his phone. Blood trickles from his nose.

“Then who? Sabbat? The fucking cartel?”

“Safehouse first.” His fingers fly over the custom rig. Sol keeps watch, claws out and twitching. “There’s an entrance into the sewer system beneath the grate here; two tunnels come up the other side of the Santa Catarina, but—”

“So come on—”

“Almost…” Julian mutters.

“Julian.”

“Got it.” He stabs a final key.

Ozone.

The district plunges into darkness.

Screams, gasps, shouting, car alarms, backup generators, trumpets, four wasted white guys still singing Personal Jesus at the top of their lungs—noise dulls to a submarine hum.

Julian’s mouth is fever-hot on her, Blush boiling beneath his skin.

Light calluses skim her cheeks; the faint ridge of scar, catch in her baby hairs. His fingers thread into where waves have frayed loose from braid, tugging her head back to deepen the kiss. Her moan vibrates through her molars and he echoes it; she feels it when he stops thinking, stops scheming, stops being Julian Sim, fucking Messiah of the Masquerade’s Collapse—and for a moment, it’s the turn of the millennium and they’re fledglings again: Sol too-eager, too-hungry, too-curious, pressed against the Geo’s hood under a Sonoran night sky, Julian’s nervous little laugh in her ear—“I mean, we’re technically dead but I guess—”

He pulls back now, forehead to hers.

“Safehouse—”

She drags him in for one more kiss.

When they separate, Julian’s grinning, all fangs and fuckery.

“To be continued?”

“Get in the sewer.”

"Told you there'd be a jacuzzi."

¡BIENVENIDOS A MONTERREY!

[previous prompt]

[all prompts]

each time i tried to paste all this into the ask my app exploded but thank you so much T_T i continued on from cicatrix for you but ended up cutting the real hot tub part bc it was getting far too long (explaining the layout of the safehouse & having nadia/elena interactions & building on some of the story here). had to split it—there is a smutty part ii coming for this one (yes i need plot with my porn…)

(btw ive two more prompts in my inbox rn but if anyone wants to send more feel free i love these. doesnt have to be a kiss prompt either it can be whatever ^^ hypothetical sudo the chihuahua custody battle etc)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The confidence game doesn’t begin with a lie. It begins with a story—one so emotionally resonant it feels like truth. It offers meaning, identifies villains, flatters the audience, and—when fully deployed—quietly opens the vault.

Donald Trump’s political rise is not just a break from convention. It’s a textbook long con. Not in the casual sense of dishonesty, but in the classic structure: the Big Lie, the emotional hook, the moving target, the victim narrative, and finally, the identity trap—where the mark can no longer afford to walk away because belief has become inseparable from self.

The script is familiar. Whether in a Ponzi scheme, a shell company, or a populist campaign, the pattern is the same. The conman begins not with evidence but with a narrative. Trump’s version is always some variation on a central myth: America has been betrayed, the system is rigged, and only he can fix it. The villains rotate—immigrants, globalists, bureaucrats, journalists—but the goal is constant: create clarity through division, and turn grievance into identity.

The genius of this narrative lies not in its truth, but in its simplicity. It sells not just an outcome, but a self-image. You’re not just supporting a candidate. You’re seeing through the lies. You’re part of the resistance. To believe is to belong. To doubt is to defect.

This is the first move of the long con: the Big Lie. Not just a falsehood, but a worldview. “The election was stolen.” “The deep state is after me because I’m fighting for you.” These aren’t claims to debate. They’re loyalty tests. And the price of failing them is exile from the story you’ve been promised.

And the mark? The mark is not foolish. The mark is angry, disillusioned, and tired of being told to trust institutions that no longer deliver. Trump didn’t invent that despair—he capitalized on it. He gave it direction. He gave it enemies. And he offered himself as both weapon and refuge.

Once belief takes hold, facts become noise. The con fuses politics with identity, and identity with moral survival. Doubting Trump means doubting yourself. And so the mark invests more, not less.

But a con doesn’t pay off. So the grifter keeps moving the goalposts. The wall? Still coming. The swamp? Still draining. The deep state? Still lurking. Every failure becomes proof of sabotage. Every delay, evidence of how powerful the enemy must be. The promise is always just out of reach—and that’s the point.

And when reality intervenes—when courts reject his claims, when fraud is exposed, when indictments land—Trump doesn’t retreat. He adapts. Exposure becomes persecution. Accountability becomes martyrdom. The scam becomes sacred.

This is the fatal turn in the long con: when truth no longer matters. When reality is no longer shared. What remains is not democracy but spectacle—a theater of grievance, rage, and blind loyalty.

We’ve seen this before.

Mussolini cast himself as a savior while dismantling Italy’s institutions. Berlusconi blurred corruption with charisma, laundering scandal through media control. Ferdinand Marcos used crisis to seize power and enrich allies. Joseph McCarthy waved blank papers and claimed they named traitors. Each man sold lies as loyalty, and each hollowed out public trust from within.

And there may be another layer to this performance: a financial con wrapped inside the political one. The chaos isn’t incidental. It may be the plan.

In times of upheaval, those closest to power often find ways to turn disruption into wealth. Trump’s erratic tariff wars, billed as economic nationalism, upended markets, collapsed sectors, and triggered retaliatory shocks. But while farmers went bankrupt and consumers paid more, the market opened space for those with foresight—or insider access—to buy low and consolidate.

Geographer David Harvey calls this accumulation by dispossession: crisis used not to correct the system, but to extract from it. Devalue public assets. Destabilize protections. Create just enough chaos to buy cheap what others are forced to abandon. It’s not just policy failure—it’s extraction dressed as populism.

The con isn’t just psychological. It’s material. It’s not just about being lied to—it’s about being looted.

And that’s what makes this moment different—and more dangerous. The scam isn’t happening outside the system. It’s running through it. Congress, the courts, and the press are not just targets. They’re props. The goal isn’t to fix government. It’s to turn it into a shell—one that can still collect taxes, enforce laws, and declare wars, but no longer serve the people who fund it.

The stakes are no longer just political. They’re existential. Can we still agree on what happened? On what’s real?

Because here’s the brutal truth about every confidence game: it doesn’t end when the lie is exposed. It ends only when the mark walks away. And that is the hardest part—because it requires admitting not just that you were lied to, but that you believed it. That what felt like belonging was, in fact, betrayal.

But if that reckoning doesn’t come—if the spell isn’t broken—the damage won’t stop at the believer’s door. This isn’t just a private illusion. This is a public unraveling. A national hollowing-out of trust, truth, and democracy itself.

And so we must hope—urgently and without illusion—that those caught in the story come to see what it is. That they see the man behind the curtain, the sleight of hand, the fantasy sold as fate.

Because if they don’t, this story won’t end with the emperor having no clothes.

It will end with all of us—every institution, every safeguard, every principle—stripped bare. Not just humiliated, but exposed. Not just misled, but fleeced.

If the con holds, we don’t just lose our shirts.

We lose the republic.

https://substack.com/@jamesbgreenberg

[sandcheeze13]

update:

i would like to apologize if i have been quiet for some time when it came to posts like these. however, i'm back for a big update. hopefully, everything's explained clearly.

1. update on the big, "beautiful" bill

i should've shared this when it came out, but there's a recess going on until june 2nd, 2025.

here's the links provided in the screenshot:

so for now, let's focus on the senate, and let them know we don't appreciate this bill.

other than that, for those not in the know, this bill, currently, is a huge thing when it comes to project 2025. a section of this bill will gut medicaid for everyone, but the millionaires. there's quite a lot more about this, but to give the basic summary breakdown: it's all bad, bad, bad.

again, call your senators, and tell them to not pass this bill. there's quite recess ends on june 2nd, 2025.

2. elon needs to take a shower

for those confused, this is about elon musk. yesterday, this guy finally resigned, but doge still remains (unfortunately).

not much to say about this one, other than just: fuck you. :) <3

3. tariffs that mr. trump wants to deploy

to put it shortly, there was a short point in time where trump's tariffs was shut down in court, but was then reinstated immediately afterward... just for them to invalidate the tariffs once again. i don't know what's the hell happened over there, but it's good that people are seeing all this for what it really is.

unfortunately, it's a bit up in the air on whether, or not, if it'll change sooner, or later. we'll just have to see if it does.

4. everything sucks in texas

unlike the bill that was made to ban abortion pills (which is now died currently), the other bills that recently got passed, and signed into state law didn't. :/

1. the anime ban was passed

2. this other bill now makes schools in texas recite the ten commandments. currently, the aclu is suing this bill. hope it goes well.

also, there's a bill that's supposed to outlaw ai-generated cp on the internet. unfortunately, it's vague enough to where it could potentially frame a lot of things (queer content, for example) to be seen as pornography (despite it not being the case).

do know that this is the same guy that also advanced a bill to block swear words. even going as far as to ban public libraries to not buy books with language they don't like. again, they're talking about swear words.

texas is just another country at this point. i'm sorry for any texans in this country currently.

5. for those protesting

for the whole week (may 31st, to june 6th), there will be a huge sum of protests that you might be able to join in to further spread the cause.

however, if you are considering going, please stay safe. make sure to bring your pepper spray, and sunglasses. be peaceful.

6. "it wouldn't matter if we go through with gutting medicaid, cuz we'll all die anyway..." 🤦‍♀️

i can't begin to describe this. just look at the following links for yourselves.

no words, honestly. fuck you, joni ernst.

7. another kosa update

for those that don't know, kosa is an abbreviation for the "kids online safety act." if your first reaction is thinking that this bill is good, then i got some bad news for you.

unfortunately, much like the rest of the bills mentioned today, it's extremely vague, and can mean anyone that's supposed to "attack" kids, or something like that. also, this bill was made by the heritage foundation, knows for being extremely homophobic/transphobic. they are in arms with trump, only helping with project 2025.

i'm sure that this current recess is the reason why no one in the government has been talking about this for a while. however, now's our chance to stop this bill from passing.

i unfortunately don't know when they'll vote for this, but until then, never stop calling.

that's about it for now. things might be quite a lot right now, but don't give up. if all of this distresses you, then take a break, before you act. don't panic, and organize.

there's still hope, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes.

thank you for sticking around. stay safe.

[12thbiologist]

Introduction by N. K. Jemisin, from 10th anniversary Authority reprint

"To my own shame, I've become a jaded reader in recent years. By this, I mean that my enthusiasm and curiosity, my drive to experience new worlds, have all been damaged by a persistent disjunct between reality and the speculative fiction I most enjoy.

"Is it any wonder? Given the horrors of Trump's first regime, the looming threat of another, a global plague allowed to run rampant, and a billionaire backed culture war on the rest of us. I'm more jaded about everything now. Escapism at this juncture feels like a way to temporarily pretend that everything is fine. And while there's value in taking a break from Hell, it also feels dangerous. Like drinking to drown my sorrows. Nothing wrong with alcohol now and again, but nobody needs a steady diet of oblivion.

"What I've found myself seeking instead are philosophies of entropy and survival. That is, fiction that addresses multifaceted decay and the psychology needed to survive it. At this point, to mangle Audre Lorde, the master has handed his tools out freely after designing them to break at first usage, buying out the only shop that could fix them and the only newspaper that tried to report on the scam, and charging all customers a subscription fee. And these days, it's no longer just us marginalized folks who need our media to acknowledge the slow motion apocalypse we're all trapped in.

"Enter, The Southern Reach books. When I first read Annihilation during the run-up to the 2016 election, it was a welcome breath of fungal, fetid air. Other fiction of the time seemed determined to suggest there was no need for alarm. Things couldn't be so bad. Anything broken could be fixed.

"Could it though? As I watched my country embrace a stupid, incompetent, and blatantly criminal fascist while insisting his spiteful, privileged sycophants somehow had a point—Well, when you're already queasy, sweet smells make the feeling worse. It helped to read instead about the smells and sights and horrors and haunting beauty of Area X. It helped me to imagine that creeping transformative infection warping body and mind and environment and institution. Because that was the world I was living in. It helped to meet the 12th expedition's nameless women who were simultaneously individuals, with selfish motivations, and archetypes, trapped in their roles. The biologist, driven by the loss of her mate and the need to integrate into a new ecosystem. The psychologist, a human subjects ethics violation in human flesh. We are dropped into danger with these women, immediately forced to confront an existential threat with courage and perseverance. And this? This was what I needed from my fiction.

"The second book, Authority, was even more what I needed. As we watch Control slowly realize he's never been in control, and that things are a lot worse than his complacency allowed him to see—it just resonated so powerfully. His over reliance on procedure and the assumed wisdom of his predecessor. His dogged refusal to see the undying plant in his office as a sign of something wrong. There was nothing of 2014's politics overtly visible in the book. And yet, they were all over it like mold.

"I've read and written reviews of these books and it seems to me that there's a common misreading that applies. Namely, that they are "climate fiction," or "cli-fi." This clunky label fits superficially, in that climate change occurs during the course of the book.

"However, Area X, with it's inexplicable reality warping power, is a poor metaphor for human caused destruction. Or even for the surreality of climate denial- talk about reality warping. I think a better analytic is to view the books as postcolonial fiction. Per Caribbean Canadian writer Nalo Hopkinson, postcolonial stories take the adventurous repertoire of science fiction—such as traveling to a distant realm and taming the exotic flora, fauna, and people who live there—and from the experience of the colonizee, critique it, pervert it, fuck with it. The characters of The Southern Reach books are only obliquely marginalized. Their races, ethnicities, class distinctions, and other markers of identity are deliberately downplayed, down to the lack of personal names. But they are all women, which is atypical of pretty much any US government agency. Two of them, the Asian biologist and the half-Indigenous psychologist, are racialized. Biology and psychology and anthropology are often dismissed as "soft sciences," in large part because too many women thrive in them. Or because they've done too good a job of reconsidering racial/cultural/ethnic equity and updating practices and personnel to suit.

"As the 12th expedition proceeds into Area X, on the surface it seems they are reenacting a thousand science fiction novels: going forth as intrepid strangers into a strange land. But for any reader who's familiar with those classic narratives, Annihilation's version feels like a setup. Our marginalized protagonists lacking the privileges and power of stalwart square-jawed white men seem doomed from pretty much the moment they enter Area X.

"So, they are the colonizees in this situation and Area X is definitely fucking with them. But as the story proceeds, it becomes clear that they are themselves fucking with that classic adventure dynamic. The psychologist has wholly focused her skills on taming her fellow adventurers, and perhaps herself. The biologist is trying to solve a mystery of identity: something unquantifiable and scientifically immeasurable, more felt than known, and deeply personal. The anthropologist has no one to study, save her fellow expedition members, and only the surveyor seems wholly focused on Area X at all. Perhaps this is why she later tries to kill the biologist. We see the irony of this setup most clearly with Control in Authority. He is the stalwart square jawed man that traditional science fiction has primed us to expect, even hope for, because he'll have the power to solve the situation, right? But Control becomes the proof that no colonizee can ever tame Area X. At best, they might manage to tame themselves.

"By the end of book one, the 12th expedition becomes the first successful one by a colonizer's rubric, in that they manage to share new understandings of Area X with those outside it and in that at least one member of the team survives with her mind and form somewhat intact. The beginning of book two seems to confirm this, as the story shifts to explore the Kafkaesque bureaucracy of the Southern Reach itself. But the expedition members' choices have become the choices of the colonized. Survive or not? Internalize or not? Assimilate or not? They bring these choices to Control, who adds his own familiar, horrifying existential questions. When change seems inevitable and irreversible, can it be controlled to some degree? Can the self remain intact after the mind and body have been "Ship of Theseus"-ed into something unrecognizable?

"This is not to say that climate focused readings are irrelevant to The Southern Reach series. I mean that climate issues are also colonization issues. In that, the worst effects of climate change fall hardest upon the most marginalized. We observe the breakdown of the 12th expedition, an invasive species to this new biome, even as we observe the breakdown of recognizable life within Area X. New configurations of life emerge from this collapse of old structures. Hybridizations, commensalisms, wholesale assimilations. Even our bureaucracies, as evidenced in Authority, form a kind of natural order that can be deconstructed and readapated. Control fails to contain Area X because of another key understanding that the colonized eventually develop: you cannot fight that with which you have become complicit. The best you can do is realize what's happening and hope its not too late by the time you do. Never fear, Area X reassures. Colonization and its associated harms, terrifying and painful as they might be, are not the end—however much traditional science fiction stories might suggest otherwise. Survival is possible if one is lucky, brave, and clever, but it might require a transformation far more nuanced and complex than mere death. And this is a reassurance. Speculative fiction has historically framed colonization as a contest with winners and losers, but its never been that simple. Human beings are syncretic, some element of who and what we were will always remain in what we become. Entropy cannot be stopped but new energy can be added to the system. And those who are caught up in the transformation can claim a degree of that power for themselves. And, ultimately, syncretism means that we are carried forwards regardless, if only in part. Still better than nothing.

"As I write these words, multiple genocides are in progress. I feel no certainty for the future. Half my nation is so enthralled to it's own bigoted fantasies that I neither expect nor particularly want the United States to survive. I do not fear the singularity, sentient AI, or any technological boogeyman. I fear the confluence of greed and shortsightedness and spite that human rights and human consciouses cannot survive intact.

"But new systems emerge, inevitably. After a climate extinction or a natural disaster, ecologies adapt, new entities eventually fill old empty niches, power changes hands, and stories can be deconstructed. Even when the situation is most terrifying, least stable, there will always be those who embrace the change, and perhaps gain new strength from it. It's a bittersweet understanding, but the change is upon us. We're all in Area X, now. If we are lucky, clever, and courageous, we might still recognize ourselves when its all said and done."

-N. K. Jemisin, Authority

[modern-politics111]

Statement from Group Indivisible

House Republicans just passed their Medicaid-slashing, billionaire-enriching megabill (aka the Republican Tax Scam) in a 215-214 vote. The bill got even worse overnight, and at the end of this email we’ll detail some of its most harmful provisions -- but the most important thing to know right now is this:

This fight isn’t over, and this bill can still be stopped! Even now, as Speaker Johnson and his pals prematurely pop their champagne, we have two clear paths to killing this bill:

Let’s break that all down a bit more.

To start, it’s important to remember that Republicans are using what used to be a fairly unusual legislative maneuver -- reconciliation -- to skirt the Senate’s 60-vote filibuster. To do that, the House and Senate must agree to pass the exact same bill, down to the letter, in both chambers.

But Senate Republicans simply aren’t going to pass the House’s bill without major changes. Vulnerable senators are concerned about draconian cuts to Medicaid and SNAP. Others think the cuts should be even more ruthless, or are annoyed at some of the deficit-ballooning deals Johnson had to make to get this thing through the House.

There are no easy fixes for Republican leadership here. The divides are so deep, and the cuts so politically toxic, that we have a real shot at flipping four votes to stop reconciliation in the Senate outright, just like we did in 2017.

Even if a bill does squeak through the Senate, it’ll be significantly different from what the House just voted on. That means another tough round of deal-making, infighting, and politically risky votes for House Republicans -- with no guarantee of success.

MAGA Republicans will be furious that some of their cuckoo, extremist ideas got stripped out.

Swing-seat Republicans will be furious they need to vote twice to cut Medicaid and SNAP -- especially if the Senate strips out special concessions Johnson promised to secure their yes votes in the first place.

And Trump will be furious he’s not simply getting his way, instantly and unquestioningly.

If that happens -- and if we keep relentless pressure on vulnerable Republicans -- the bill may never pass the House a second time. Getting it across the finish line in one chamber took a herculean effort. Passing it again, with two chambers involved and weeks of additional pressure, will be even harder.

Whether we stop the reconciliation bill in the Senate or in the House, there’s no doubt we can still win this fight! But we’ll need to ratchet up pressure on Republicans in both chambers right now. Call your Republican senator(s) immediately; tell them to stop the cuts to Medicaid, SNAP, and other vital programs.

You can also use this tool to send them an email. 

Congressional Republicans need to hear from us right now, but calling and emailing is just the first of many ways that Indivisibles like you will keep fighting this bill.

As we roll out more events, outreach campaigns, volunteer opportunities and other pressure tactics, we’ll let you know exactly what you can do to beat this bill and stop the cuts. Please stay tuned, and thanks for being with us in this fight.

In solidarity, Indivisible Team

[reading-writing-revolution]

(via CALL NOW: Tell your Republican Representative You Don’t Want To Pay The Price For Their Billionaire Tax Breaks | Indivisible)

Republicans in Congress are trying to ram through the Trump Tax Scam, their tax plan that sells out everyday Americans to help billionaires like Elon Musk get even richer. They’re using budget reconciliation—a wonky process that would allow them to pass legislation with only Republican votes to ram through their top priorities: giving the ultra-wealthy trillions of dollars in tax breaks and expecting the rest of us to foot the bill.

They’re planning to slash funding to Medicaid, SNAP, early education programs, and countless other programs that working families rely on in order to give billionaires massive handouts. Hardworking, everyday Americans shouldn’t be paying more in taxes than Elon Musk, but under the Trump Tax Scam, they’re the ones that shoulder most of the burden.

We cannot just let Trump and the Republicans get away with gutting these vital programs. They want to fleece the American people so billionaires can buy another private jet or luxury yacht and they must be held accountable.

Fill out this form right now and we’ll connect you to your Republican representative. Tell them that you’re outraged they’re going along with the Trump Tax Scam, which would slash access to health care and take food off of people’s tables in order to give massive tax breaks to billionaires like Elon Musk. Demand that they stand up for working families instead of behind beholden to billionaires.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

Docm77 as well as MANY other have fallen face first into this media-related ragebait and I'm here to explain why you shouldn't be mad at Doc/be upset but not "wish ill things on your child" upset, which yes. I did see. Shame on you person. Shame.

Ahem.

So upon waking up in the UK/Europe, we didn't necessarily have the build up to the presidential election due to timezone conflictions, so for many people (myself include) 6am to 9am we woke up to Trumps victory speech on the trending tab. I'm not joking, that's how people going out and how I found out

There have been a mixed bag of reaction but Doc is getting hate for saying, and I quote "Lol... Really USA? This is what I wake up to?"

Alot of people say this was insensitive, and excuse my language and I don't mean to upset, it's because they're Americans and (again apologies) Americans have been socialised into to being quite emotional about politics and read into everything that happens regarding it. Which is something that the rest of the world kinda looks down on America for, because it makes you look like 'cultist' (this isn't my viewpoint however we do discuss this alot in certain class and this is how other people see you)

Doc's reaction is not trying being insensitive, because to literally anyone else it's a reaction of speechlessness and confusion. Which the majority of people saw it as.

Because we all woke up to that.

Doc isn't trying to be insensitive, but I do understand why people think he's being insensitive, his confusion and speechlessness is being written off as dismissive.

People are saying the word 'lol' is worth cursing at his family over

1. That's not tolerated here. Don't be sending threats or harassing him.

2. Lol, has cultural differences in meaning.

In the US countries, it means 'haha funny!' or it can be a dismissive reply (in text format)

But in other countries, lol, is also used as a 'your joking right?' or 'pretty funny joke'. An example being 'lol what?' (funny joke, but what does it mean)

Many people think the lol is dismissive but it's not. He, along with many other actually didn't believe Trump had won yet and learnt about it in the worst way possible

Secondily he made a comment about dealing with "another 4 years of insanity" which people also thought was rude.

But sadly, it's actually true to alot of people outside the US. We only see the "funny" or mildly annoying bits of your media (because of filters and blockers) and sadly, I'll admit we don't know the full picture other than the Americans insanity over politics

It's literally what your known for in the UK.

So the '4 years of insanity' is definitely an exaggeration but is definitely true in some way. We get the bud of all the "Americans drama" and it's mostly the insane stuff, heck that's how flordia man and ohio became memes. So it's not unrealistic for us to see the next year's as insanity because it is. Just very dramatised

Also quick point, people are saying that because of this he doesn't support the LGBTQIA+ and to that I say; Rendog + his entire fanbase respectfully

Now the big boy issue. Doc said he won't talk about politics and Palestine yet talked about politics now? Why?

Why didn't Doc talk about Palestine?

And for similar reasons as to why alot of other people didn't talk about it, including myself. Not out of fear or something. It's because of the scams.

Being "late" to new media is frustrating especially when it comes to supporting people, and genuinely by the time I heard about Palestine I saw the scams first.

Doc HAS a younger audience demographic, who are more likely to get scammed because they do look very realistic and they even have fake followers and everything.

Why not get one from a reliable source? Well what is a reliable source? Because if something goes wrong people will blame you because you endorsed them.

Why not go to charities? Sadly their are now currently many scummy charities that do take alot of the donation percentage. (including some gofundme pages)

So to address this, Doc just didn't address it. And YES he admittedly should have explained why, instead of leaving it up to people to infer because as we can see, some people took it the wrong way. And I can see how they took it the wrong way, he didn't communicate it very well.

But to me and many others, the intentions were clear and that's why their were no comments made. However I do believe he shouldn't have used the excuse about not wanting to talk about politics, because that does have consequences long-term. And that why I'm here today

And this brings me to my final point.

People are forcing opinions out of other people and when their opinions don't aline they get mad about it. So to avoid this people either refuse to comment or have their own methods of tackling it or simply blurt it out because of pressure.

A modern example of this would be Kim. K and her son (ik shocking). Her son talked about supporting Trump and she got mad about it, told him to take down the videos and allegedly made him sign a contract saying to never make a video about politics.

Kim. K is actively avoiding being pressured into speaking by not responding and keeping it in.

However, another example of this would be Vivziepop. Due to recent events regarding her shows being leaked and the recent elections that damaged the integrity of women's rights and healthcare, she broke down on twitter.

Letting some of her frustrations spill out. This was encouraged by people personal targeting her, and basically harassing her to the point of breaking down.

These same types of people are trying to do the same to people like Aismey, Doc and even Jimmy Solidaritygaming because of thier social media presence, and when they have a reaction but then change their opinion it's suddenly a "well you didn't say that before!"

So to be clear, the circumstances of Docm77 is brought upon by miscommunication and ragebaiting. Dont go and threaten his family, voice your concerns respectfully in this troubling time (even if you're frustrated, you should project that onto someone else)

IF YOU SEE ANYONE RAGEBAITING REPORT IT

And have a good night ya'll

[deadpresidents]

"Sometimes lost amid all the shouting of a high-octane campaign heading into its final couple of weeks is that simple if mind-bending fact. America for the first time in its history may send a criminal to the Oval Office and entrust him with the nuclear codes. What would once have been automatically disqualifying barely seems to slow Mr. Trump down in his comeback for a second term that he says will be devoted to "retribution."

In all the different ways that Mr. Trump has upended the traditional rules of American politics, that may be one of the most striking. He has survived more scandals than any major party Presidential candidate, much less President, in the life of the republic. Not only survived but thrived. He has turned them on their head, making allegations against him into an argument for him by casting himself as a serial victim rather than a serial violator.

His persecution defense, the notion that he gets in so much trouble only because everyone is out to get him, resonates at his rallies where he says "they're not coming after me, they're coming after you, and I'm just standing in the way." But that of course belies a record of scandal stretching across his 78 years starting long before politics. Whether in his personal life or his public life, he has been accused of so many acts of wrongdoing, investigated by so many prosecutors and agencies, sued by so many plaintiffs and claimants that it requires a scorecard just to remember them all.

His businesses went bankrupt repeatedly and multiple others failed. He was taken to court for stiffing his vendors, stiffing his bankers and even stiffing his own family. He avoided the draft during the Vietnam War and avoiding paying any income taxes for years. He was forced to shell out tens of millions of dollars to students who accused him of scamming them, found liable for wide-scale business fraud and had his real estate firm convicted in criminal court of tax crimes.

He has boasted of grabbing women by their private parts, been reported to have cheated on all three of his wives and been accused of sexual misconduct by more than two dozen women, including one whose account was validated by a jury that found him liable for sexual abuse after a civil trial.

He is the only President in American history impeached twice for high crimes and misdemeanors, the only President ever indicted on criminal charges and the only President to be convicted of a felony (34, in fact). He used the authority of his office to punish his adversaries and tried to hold onto power on the basis of a brazen lie.

Mr. Trump beat some of the investigations and lawsuits against him and some proved unfounded, but the sheer volume is remarkable. Any one of those scandals by itself would typically have been enough to derail another politician...Not Mr. Trump. He has moved from one furor to the next without any of them sinking into the body politic enough to end his career. The unrelenting pace of scandals may in its own way help him by keeping any single one of them from dominating the national conversation and eroding his standing with his base of supporters...And victory next month may yet help him escape the biggest threat of all -- potentially prison."

-- Peter Baker, laying out very plainly how insane it is that America could very well elect Donald Trump as President once again, in the New York Times. I really hope you'll take the time to read the whole article, which I am sharing gift links to in order to bypass the paywall, and remember just what is on the line on November 5th.

(Please feel free to copy and share this gift link to anyone and everyone that you think needs to read this immensely important article in the next two weeks.)

[ellevandersneed]

People really hate the idea of unemployment benefits, and constantly obsess over who "deserves" to have access to food, housing, and medical services. There are people who know, deep down in their hearts, that their job is horrible and that life would be better if they could do whatever they wanted, and since its too hard to imagine a future where everyone is free, they spend their time conjuring with their minds all sorts of scam artists and lazy "degenerates" who don't work, and steal unemployment benefit from "deserving" unemployed. Maybe all of those bad, underserving people who don't work will one day die out. Maybe the government should implement a program so that we can finally exterminate this undesirable element of society so that everyone who wants to work can stay working. I've met people who think this. They vote in US elections. They are your boss and your "progressive" friend and your parent. There are thousands of people who wake up every day and think like this. The idea of who does and does not "deserve" unemployment does not end at one type of person. The perpetually unemployed: the autistic individual, the physically disabled friend, etc, are all dead weights on society in the eyes of your petite bourgeoisie cousin or uncle or neighbor. "Why should I have to share my earnings with these dead-weights?" they think. But they ignore the fact that, in order for their bosses to make a profit with their business, they are being paid only a fraction of what their labor-power is worth. Business owners have been doing this for centuries and human beings have been coerced in one way or another to accept it as normal and healthy. It's, unfortunately, communist to think about that sort of thing. Better to flip the blame downwards. It's those dead-weight leftists and disableds that are really keeping me from having all the wealth I deserve. We just need to build a society around killing off anyone who doesn't fit into this model. Anyone who isn't physically fit goes into the furnace! I have had a close family member tell me how good COVID was because it "killed off" a lot of the physically disabled. That mentality flourishes in places like the US, where freedom and democracy are just words you say in order to show that you love the United States and all it represents. US Uber Alles! Pitchforks not for my boss, but for my disabled neighbor, nephew, and childhood friend! There's a reason why US politicians and businessmen don't work that hard to keep quasi-fascists like Trump out of the White House.

[voidsentprinces]

Look the US Election is right around the corner and I don't like to get into or talk about politics at all. Cause I am trying to cater my mutuals to shitposting and laughter to make each day a little easier. But, I keep hearing the same phrase over and over.

And let me iterate on that, the phrase is:

"Can't wait for Trump to be gone, then we can get back to normal politics."

Which is a nice sentiment but it sounds like

"Can't wait for Reagan to be gone."

And its like, hate to break it to you but like...its not going to be done. Reagan is in his grave but we're seeing his policies damaging everything over 30 years later. And Trump can be in his grave but his policies will continue to damage a lot going forward. And I say this because to me, the next Trump/Reagan is already here. Follow me here:

Logan Paul is right there. There's just another conartist who is only 20 years from entering politics to stroke his own ego. He's already doing it with boxing while he is young and fit and heading for his 30s, he's starting to work with others to scam children. Helping James Donaldson sell molding lunchable rip offs to children after last year when he was done selling children highly caffienated energy drinks. What is he going to be doing in his 40s? 50s? 60s? Trump too was an "entrepreneur" and failed upward with business. The future's worst nightmare is here now. His off shore untaxable house in Puerto Rico, his filming of the deceased in Japan. It is only a matter of time before someone offers him enough money to also take a crack at this. And all it will take is the following generations to laugh him off like they did Reagan's "just being an actor" or Trump's "being a failed businessman" for yet another issue to arise. And say it isn't Paul getting into politics. He could be an Epstein in motion, a Bezos. Someone who clearly does not care for his fellow man only for the money in his pocket. Say he doesn't get into politics. Could be his brother, could be Donaldson, could be someone in their circle.

The world is labourosly horrible and stamping out Trumpism is ideal but please consider and look at long term for the "up and coming stars" and their capacity to be the next one. And Republicans have shown they are more than willing to sup on that teet when given a chance. The only way to stamp out this fascist bout for power is to remain vigilant as to who could possibly be the next mad man.

Its going to be a long life, hopefully those who follow us are as just as if even more vigilant than we are. But, I only ask that no one consider this done and buried when there are many other amoral individuals clearly and publicly being brought up in a similar manner. And already going off the rails as a result.

Alright, that's my peace on that for the moment. Back to...shitposts I guess.

[skull-pun]

Helping Ukraine is simply not in Trump's best interest and people need to wake up to this fact.

Why settle for some when you can have it all?

Why help Ukraine when you can just make a backdoor deal with Russia that ensures the USA won't interfere as long as it gets a cut of everything when all this is over?

Any talk of peace is all smoke and mirrors from Trump and the thing people also need to realise is that yes, Putin may be all the way in Ukraine now, but I can assure you he will not be stopping there.

He will invade the rest of the EU, the UK, and eventually the USA.

It may not happen now, or in a year, or even a decade, but it will happen if we continue down this path of appeasement.

At the end of the day the way I see it is that the money sent to Ukraine is an investment in the future of democracy, and surely it's smarter to invest in that than another Trump and dump crypto scam, right?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

J. Dylan Sandifer at TNR:

Two egos like Elon Musk’s and Donald Trump’s could never share the spotlight if it weren’t for the unifying force of grifter solidarity—two oligarchs teaming up to further tip the scales against everyone else. Just as Trump’s P.R. campaign as a canny dealmaker hid his multiple bankruptcies, Musk’s rogue genius performance serves as cover for the fact that he’s just another billionaire buying up others’ ideas and playing the system with enough of a safety net to repeatedly fail. His whole shtick is built on the idea that he’s a bold, self-made innovator who defies the odds, shuns government handouts, and stands for the unbridled power of the free market. In reality, his empire, built originally on an apartheid emerald mine, has been propped up by public money for years. One of its most consistent sources of income has been Tesla’s exploitation of the carbon credit market.

Tesla, the supposed future of clean energy, isn’t just making money by selling electric cars—it’s making a fortune off a regulatory loophole. In the first nine months of 2024, 43 percent of Tesla’s net income came from selling credits to other automakers that hadn’t met emissions standards. It’s not innovation that’s keeping Tesla’s finances afloat; it’s a rigged system that Musk is milking for everything it’s worth. And all the while, he’s using his newfound power as Trump’s unelected co-president to gut the very government programs that provide working people with a fraction of the support that he’s quietly pocketing. Musk loves to sneer at working-class people who rely on food stamps or unemployment benefits, claiming they’re lazy or entitled. But what’s more entitled than using regulatory credits to boost your company’s stock price and then leveraging that stock for loans to keep your cash flow steady? The hypocrisy gets even more grotesque when you look at Musk’s role in the so-called Department of Government Efficiency—the dystopian fever dream where he’s now helping Trump dismantle social programs under the guise of “cutting waste.” While he’s ensuring billionaires like himself keep their tax breaks and loopholes, he’s working to slash food assistance, disability benefits, and Social Security. The plan is clear: If you’re rich, the government will help you get richer. If you’re poor, you’re on your own. Meanwhile, Musk has strategically positioned himself to undermine public infrastructure alternatives to his products. Musk has started targeting public transit and infrastructure projects, claiming they are bloated and inefficient—while his own half-baked ideas, like the Las Vegas “Loop” (a glorified tunnel for Teslas), receive public subsidies and fizzle out into tech-world vaporware. He is claiming that government spending on social good is a waste, while positioning himself as the one true visionary who should receive those taxpayer dollars instead. Here’s how Tesla’s legalized scam works: Under California’s Zero Emission Vehicle, or ZEV, mandate and the federal Corporate Average Fuel Economy, or CAFE, standards, carmakers are required to meet emissions targets. If they don’t, they have to buy carbon credits from companies that produce cleaner vehicles. Tesla, which only sells electric cars, racks up a surplus of these credits and sells them to gas-guzzling automakers that don’t want to invest in real change. In other words, Tesla isn’t making money because it’s selling cars efficiently—it’s making money because Ford and GM still rely on gasoline. Musk has figured out how to turn regulatory inaction into a billion-dollar side hustle. If Tesla’s carbon credit well ever runs dry—if regulatory standards change or if automakers finally catch up—Tesla’s bottom line takes a hit. That’s when the whole house of cards Musk has built starts to wobble.

Musk’s entire empire hinges on one thing: Tesla’s sky-high stock price. He’s leveraged Tesla shares to take out massive loans, using them as collateral to fund his lifestyle and side projects. This means that keeping Tesla’s valuation high is a matter of personal financial survival. Those carbon credits—essentially free money from the government—make Tesla’s earnings look better than they actually are, which in turn props up its stock price. But this strategy is starting to fall apart. Tesla’s stock is plummeting—down nearly 40 percent this year—due to increased competition, battery technology falling behind, and Musk’s erratic behavior scaring off investors. When a company is built on smoke and mirrors, it doesn’t take much for the illusion to shatter.

A big chunk of Elon Musk’s Tesla income comes from their regulatory credits scheme.

[nezoriy]

List of "normal" things that always baffled me as a person on the aro/ace spectrum:

Disclaimer: A lot of this is based on the feelings and perception of my teenage self when I started to feel people around me were weird but didn't have the language or concept yet to understand what was wrong. So, give me a break if it sounds edgy sometimes. I don’t have the energy to sugarcoat every statement so it doesn’t offend anyone. If you're part of the mainstream and feel attacked by a random dude on the internet questioning things you find "normal," maybe ask yourself why you’re upset instead of coming for me.

1. "Love at first sight."

Even as a kid, this felt like a scam. I get friendship, and I can imagine love developing out of it. But for that, you need to know the person. You can't know someone instantly. So how on earth is this supposed to work? (The answer is, most ppl can feel sexual attraction instantaneously and it gets sold as love for the kids.)

2. Finding someone "attractive" = you’d like to fuck them.

I honestly was like 20something when I realized that actually yes, when ppl talk about someone, even celebs, being "attractive," they do mean they’d like to have sex with them and not just compliment them on their looks.

Like, I can honestly say that many of my friends, Cate Blanchett, and Hugh Jackman are "attractive." But to me, that’s like talking about a painting. Like, sure, Singer Sargent's Madame X is "attractive," but no one's trying to, uh, get it on with the painting… right?

3. The whole concept of dating (to find a romantic partner.)

So, you’re telling me people meet up specifically to see if they might develop feelings for each other when they don't have those feelings yet? 

Like, what even makes you say yes to a date if you don't know a person at all? (The answer is: once again, sexual attraction, obviously.) 

On the other hand, if you’re already friends with someone and just wanna see where it goes, why bring the flowers and fancy dinners into the equation?

4. Why people (especially women) would even risk sex back when it could have had major consequences for them

The list includes (but isn’t limited to):

Women before reliable contraception in societies where an unplanned pregnancy could be socially catastrophic;

Brothel visitors once STDs were known;

(Here’s the tricky one bc I myself kinda feel guilty for not being empathetic enough) gay people, especially men, in times and places where they could literally be imprisoned or executed for having sex

I need to be very clear here, this isn’t about moral superiority as I'm not feeling any, it’s about survival. Like, if sex could legit mess up your life, why not just… not do it? 

Yeah it's basically rip to “fallen” women but I’m different.

5. The culture of one-night stands, cruising, club hookups, etc.

This is still a bit uncomfortable in my head because this is a very prominent part of gay culture specifically, and I’ve always felt incredibly disconnected from it. But I can't edit it out.

Okay, so someone’s hot. I can maybe get that there’s a spark. But if you don’t know them… what if they open their mouth mid-action and reveal they voted for trump? Instant deal-breaker, my genitals are shriveling in terror.

6. The need to have a partner / actively searching for one.

I give it to you, if you vibe with someone, getting into a relationship may make sense. But actually, putting in effort to find one? For what? There’s so much other cool stuff in life!

7. "I haven’t had sex in five minutes/a month/half a year 😱😭" / jokes about dry spells.

Do you actually keep track of the timelines? So what if you haven’t? I get it, orgasm is great and all, but your hand still works, right? Why do you need another person for that? 

8. Imagining yourself in place of a person/character in sex scenes.

This mostly applies to fanfics but also “regular” porn. Even if the scene is hot, I don’t picture myself as any of the characters involved. Even if I'm aroused, I like it precisely for the characters in a specific scenario, I would only be a third wheel there. 

9. Sexual fantasies with yourself as a participant.

I really don't want to imagine myself in any sexual scenarios, neither with fictional characters nor with real people, even if I might have a crush on them. 

10. Cheating in relationships/marriage.

I’m not even talking about the moral aspect of breaking trust/violating the negotiated agreements; it’s the fact that someone "just couldn’t help themselves," “accidentally” had sex. Like, you’re willing to break an agreement, feel all the guilt, and go all secret agent-level to hide the thing because you… what, couldn’t keep it in your pants?

11. Extreme jealousy over sex.

Alongside the last point, I don’t really get why people make such a big deal about someone sleeping with someone else. Sure, it’s not cool to break agreements, and it’s a valid reason to re-evaluate the relationship. But just because they hooked up with someone else? Why is it such a dramatic deal?

(Spoiler alert: I’ve grown up to be poly now, who’s surprised xD)

12. The sexualization of women in media, ads, and the outrage from cishet guys about female characters wearing realistic armor instead of metal bikinis in their games now.

What do you mean, people actually like this and it works on them? Do people actually appreciate having half-naked women in their media? Seriously?

13. The priority of romantic relationships over friendships and every other kind of relationship.

From "got a partner, disappeared for two months from their friend group" to the whole idea that romance is inherently more "serious" or "important" than friendship. Why? Who made that a rule?

Okay, that’s it off the top of my head. Might add something later. 

[nightpool]

In 2013, Weinstein pleaded guilty to running a $200 million real estate Ponzi scheme. In 2012 and 2013, while he was out on bail for that Ponzi scheme, he did another financial scam involving “purported sales of pre-IPO Facebook shares and Florida real estate”; he pleaded guilty to that one in 2014. He was sentenced to a total of 24 years in prison for all of this, but in January 2021 President Donald Trump commuted his sentence and let him out of prison. I don’t know why Trump let him out, but possibly he admired Weinstein’s moxie and sense of humor and wanted to see what else he’d get up to.

That faith in him was richly rewarded yesterday, when Weinstein was charged by the US Securities and Exchange Commission and federal prosecutors in New Jersey with doing a new Ponzi scheme in the two years since he left prison. Pre-IPO Facebook shares were very much the current thing in 2012, before Facebook went public, but in 2021 through 2023 the things were apparently:

» “In or around late 2021, Optimus [one of Weinstein’s companies] started raising money directly from a small number of investors to finance purported transactions related to COVID-19 medical supplies.”

» “In or around May 2022, WEINSTEIN (posing as Mike Konig) asked CC-1 and CC-2 [two unnamed alleged co-conspirators] to raise money from investors to finance the purchase and delivery of three million first-aid kits (‘FAKs’) to USAID to be distributed to the people of Ukraine during the Russia-Ukraine war (the ‘FAK deal’).”

» “In or around May 2022, WEINSTEIN (posing as Mike Konig), asked CC-1 and CC-2 to raise additional money to finance Company-1’s purchase of 100 million N95 masks (the ‘N95 Mask deal’).”

» “Similarly, in or around early August 2022, WEINSTEIN (posing as Mike Konig) asked CC-1 and CC-2 to raise money to finance the purchase of approximately 29 shipping containers of baby formula from [alleged co-conspirator Alaa Mohamed] HATTAB’s company, Hattab Global, in order to capitalize on supply chain issues which had created a shortage in baby formula (the ‘Formula deal’).”

Just pick a thing in the news, and he was allegedly pretending to supply it. Of course prosecutors say he was not actually doing any of these things and was instead stealing the money

– Baby-Formula Ponzi Schemer Does This a Lot, Money Stuff