There's this specific reek that hits you when power starts decomposing—like rotting meat wrapped in expensive cologne, desperate and cloying and wrong. It's the stench of Donny Caligulump screaming "TREASON" at lawmakers who dared suggest soldiers might disobey unlawful orders, his Truth Social account vomiting caps-lock rage like a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving who just discovered everyone's been laughing at him for years.

The marble halls of Washington taste it now. Sharp. Immediate. The bitter tang of a man whose neurons are firing in patterns that would make a neurologist reach for their fucking prescription pad.

But what happens when the man wielding power can't remember what he did yesterday, much less take responsibility for it?

Let me paint you a picture of cognitive decline dressed in an ill-fitting suit and too-long tie.

Trumpty MouthAnus calls Senators Kelly and Slotkin "TRAITORS" worthy of jail—maybe death—for a video urging military restraint. His Republican allies? They're backing away like he just shit himself at a state dinner. Rand Paul—Rand fucking Paul—calls it "reckless and irresponsible." Susan Collins looks like someone force-fed her spoiled milk. These aren't the enemy. These are his people, and they're watching him spiral like a greased pig on a waterslide to dementia-town.

Then the dumbfuck pivots—and I use that word generously—to extending ObamaCare subsidies. The same goddamn subsidies he'd been rage-tweeting about weeks earlier as "insurance company grift." The whiplash would be funny if 22 million Americans weren't about to get financially asshole-fucked by premium increases.

The man has no coherent position on anything. None. Zero. He's a meat-puppet whose strings are tangled in his own bullshit, dancing to music only his deteriorating prefrontal cortex can hear.

Here's where my stomach turns inside-out like a cheap sock: every single fucking symptom is there, screaming at us in neon letters.

The volatility. The nuclear overreactions. The inability to track his own positions from Tuesday to Thursday. The screaming about "traitors" who deserve execution while simultaneously defending Tucker Carlson's right to platform Nazi-adjacent scumfucks like Nick Fuentes. The word salad. The paranoia. The persecution complex metastasizing like stage-four crazy.

Medical professionals see this pattern—I've checked—and recognize it:

• Behavioral disinhibition (threatening lawmakers with death)

• Rapid mood cycling (from ObamaCare subsidies are evil to ObamaCare subsidies need extending)

• Persecution delusions (everyone's a traitor except the sycophants)

Translation: Donald ShriveledEmptyNutsack's brain is eating itself, and we're all just watching the goddamn show like it's normal political theater instead of Weekend at Bernie's with nuclear codes.

Here's the part that makes my teeth grind: Speaker Not Michael Jackson stands there parsing the difference between "free speech" and "antisemitism" regarding Carlson's Fuentes interview, trying to maintain some dipshit semblance of principle. Meanwhile, his president—the man whose party he theoretically leads—is accusing sitting senators of capital crimes via social media at 2 AM like a meth-addled conspiracy theorist who just discovered all-caps.

Let me be crystal fucking clear: this isn't political strategy. This is neurological breakdown with a Twitter account.

Marjorie Taylor Greene—previously one of Dookie Trump's most slavish ass-lickers—resigns in January after he un-endorses her. The man destroys his own allies now, seemingly at random, like a cat batting glasses off a table just to watch them shatter.

The pattern screams dementia:

Exhibit A: Threaten Democrats with execution for suggesting military restraint.

Exhibit B: Reverse fifteen years of Republican healthcare policy overnight with zero explanation.

Exhibit A again because he forgot about Exhibit A: Double down on the treason accusations Saturday night while your own party is begging you to shut the fuck up.

National Review's Jeffrey Blehar sees it: MAGA is "shredding and fraying" because you cannot follow a leader who can't remember where he's leading you. The FREOPP conference buzzes with optimism about "vibe shifts" away from Heritage Foundation's Trumpification—which is think-tank speak for "please God, somebody competent take the wheel before grandpa drives us into the ditch."

Except when it's dementia, Napoleon. Then it's a fucking five-alarm emergency that everyone's pretending is normal.

The Dumping Donald claims he's tough on healthcare costs. Already. Past tense. Accomplished.

Except—and I cannot stress this enough—he just kneecapped his own party's midterm chances by flip-flopping on subsidies so incoherently that Mike "Tiny" Johnson won't even promise a vote.

THE TIMELINE OF COGNITIVE COLLAPSE: According to multiple Republican sources, Trumpington De ShittyGobhole had been attacking these subsidies as corporate welfare for weeks. Then, suddenly, he's proposing a two-year extension with 700% poverty-level income caps. Then the White House shelves Monday's announcement after conservatives lose their shit. Then he's attacking them again. Then defending them again. ¹

This isn't political calculation. This is a brain misfiring like a wet sparkplug, unable to maintain consistent neural pathways long enough to complete a single policy thought.

The worst part? His staffers now reportedly plan around his "good hours" versus his "bad hours." They're managing sundown syndrome in the fucking Oval Office, and we're all supposed to pretend this is fine.

What about the unexamined brain, Socrates? What about the brain that's actively decomposing while making decisions about nuclear arsenals and treason prosecutions?

The synthesis is clear as Mexican tap water: We have a man with obvious cognitive decline wielding immense power while his party enables the deterioration because they're too chickenshit to confront it.

Not "political exhaustion." Not "unconventional style." Dementia.

These same Republicans who scream about Biden's age and mental acuity are watching Donald BukakkeVictim threaten lawmakers with execution, reverse major policy positions mid-sentence, and purge his own allies seemingly at random—and they're just... letting it happen. Rand Paul calls it "reckless." Susan Collins furrows her brow. Not Michael Jackson parses First Amendment theory.

Nobody says the obvious: the emperor's brain is rotting, and we can all smell it.

And what Donaldo Shitsburger repeatedly does now is contradict himself, threaten allies, reverse positions, scream persecution, and demonstrate every clinical marker of frontotemporal dementia like it's his fucking job.

What does it say that Senator Slotkin's phones pulse with death threats after Farty Donaldo's attacks, but Republicans' biggest concern is whether Tucker Carlson should be "ostracized" from conferences? What does it say that the Defense Department investigates Kelly—a sitting senator—for suggesting soldiers might refuse unlawful orders, while the president threatening senators with death penalties faces zero consequences?

The smell returns now—that decay-and-cologne mix of power decomposing in real-time.

Tomorrow, Donny ShittSpeakSpout will rage-tweet another contradiction. Mike "Tiny" Johnson will perform more First Amendment gymnastics. Susan Collins will furrow her distinguished brow. And 330 million Americans will watch a man with obvious neurological decline make decisions about their healthcare, their military, their lives—while everyone pretends the naked emperor is just "unconventional."

But that's not how it has to be. That's just how it is when a political party values power over basic human decency, when they'll enable obvious cognitive collapse rather than admit they've tied their fortunes to a sinking, dementia-riddled ship.

The question isn't whether Turdburg Trump still has power—he clearly still has enough to destroy individual careers and terrorize lawmakers into compliance.

The question is what happens when that power meets accelerating cognitive decline, when the nuclear codes sit in the hands of a man who can't remember his own policy positions from breakfast to lunch, whose brain is actively eating itself while his party watches and does nothing.

The question is whether we'll look back at this moment—these obvious warning signs, this blatant deterioration—and wonder why the fuck we let it continue when every neurologist in America could see the symptoms screaming from his Truth Social account at 2 AM.

The question is how many people will die, how many institutions will crumble, how much damage one deteriorating brain can inflict before someone finally says: The emperor isn't just naked. He's actively shitting himself and doesn't even notice anymore.

And we're all just standing here, pretending we can't smell it.

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