Feast your eyes on what Our Donnie just had erected at his golf course at Doral:
A.I. you say? A prank photo? Nope. I assure you this is quite real. It’s a 22 foot statue dubbed Don Colossus – again, I shit you not – gifted to Dear Leader by a bunch of crypto-currency scam artists, no doubt as a gesture of pure good will, absent any anticipation of currying regulator favour. Read all about it!
https://www.newsweek.com/pastor-defends-golden-trump-statue-from-biblical-backlash-11933490
As Evangelical Pastor and Trump spiritual advisor John Mark Burns explains, this is by no means a golden idol, as indeed MAGA is by no means a cult. No reason to pitch a fit and start smashing tablets of Commandments over this, that’s for sure:
The latest golden calf, you say? No no, it’s “a celebration of life and a powerful symbol of resilience, freedom, patriotism, courage, and the will to keep fighting for America.” So whoa there Moses, buddy, simmer down!! God’s fine with it!
Word is that Trump stipulated that his likeness should be rendered as somewhat, er, less portly than the latest photos would impress upon your own lyin’ eyes.
Anyway, perhaps apropos of nothing, I felt an urge to reprint one of my favourite poems, authored a while back by some guy named Shelly, which I offer here without comment:
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
the needlefish 