Donald Trump And The Second Coming - No Kings Missed The Point, It's King Of Kings We Need To Worry About

Donald Trump posted a picture of himself as Jesus Christ curing the sick in a hilarious retort to Pope Leo XIV who criticized the President for his war in Iran.  

Of course the liberal press went apoplectic over the image.  How could he? Sacrilege’, they shouted. ‘Hateful…disgraceful!’ but of course these Gideon's trumpets were far out of tune.  

The Pope had conveniently forgotten the Iranian regime's slaughter of 30,000 peaceful protestors gunned down in the streets demanding the end of fifty years of oppressive theocracy. 

That was only the first twig of the Pope's ignorance as he also forgot the Allies' defeat of Naziism, the militant march across Germany, and liberation of thousands of Jewish internees in the camps, the Crusades led by Pope Urban I and his successors to forcibly evict usurping Muslims from Jerusalem, or the countless other wars initiated by the Vatican in the days of its geopolitical power.

Perhaps most telling of all was his omission of the Biblical history of the Jews - a violent overthrow of Pharoah, and the march of Moses' armies from Egypt to Jericho and the final, victorious battle over the Canaanites. 

Even Catholic intellectual and an early Church father, Thomas Aquinas, admitted there was such a thing as a just war, morally imperative, geopolitically sound, and inevitable. Aquinas, in his Summa Theologica, laid out the moral conditions under which war could be just. His framework remains foundational to modern just war theory.

In order for a war to be just, three things are necessary.  First, the authority of the sovereign by whose command the war is to be waged.  Second, a just cause.  Third, a rightful intention. 

 

The war against the Nazis clearly meets all Aquinas' criteria as does the fight against Imperial Japan, but using the same philosophical rubric, so does the war against Iran.  The mullahs, like Hitler, declared war against the Jews and issued a call for the elimination of Israel.  Israel's war against Iran's clients, Hamas and Hezbollah was justified because of this existential threat.  

Israel’s partnership with the United States in a war to destroy the patron of such threats and to rid the region and the world of a terrorist regime determined to establish Islamic hegemony by force of arms, certainly falls within the ambit of Aquinas' reasoning. 

Anyone who has been following Donald Trump knows that the man is not your grandfather's president.  He is a tummler, a vaudevillian, a master of ceremonies of a three-ring circus, an untamed, unrepentant Borscht Belt comedian. 

Trump could have simply responded to the Pope's ignorance with a carefully-worded statement of disagreement, but he, typically and not surprisingly, posted a hilarious image of himself as Jesus Christ curing the sick, a sendup of the whole idea of the divine right of popes and their direct lineage to Christ himself.  

The image was reminiscent of the best political cartoons of Thomas Nast and Tom Toles - excoriatingly honest, brutal and hilarious depictions of American presidents.  Making leaders look ridiculous was their stock in trade.

This of course was not the first time Trump went after the Pope, and this image of him on the papal throne had the same reaction among the injured, offended Left. 

The Left simply does not get Trump and never will.  Already apoplectic about the President, ICE, the opening of oil fields, the trashing of race, gender, and inclusivity, and the attacks on Venezuela and Iran, liberals literally choked on this latest expression from what they see as an idiot, a boor, a political miscreant, and the Devil. 

Now, with the publication of the Trump-as-Christ image, American progressives realize they have a problem far more serious than No Kings to deal with.  Trump now believes himself to be a divine savior.  

The cartoon is not just Trump being Trump, liberals say, but an expression of his descent into complete and utter schizophrenia. He is not just alluding to his divine calling, he is taking the place of Christ, decommissioning him, relegating him and his Vatican chiefs to the  bottom shelf.

Donald Trump believes he is doing more to create a world of peace, harmony, and good will than Jesus ever did.  Jesus was a man of great promises but who never delivered.  He would. 

'He must go now!, spluttered one speaker after another before the gates of the White House, raising their fists in righteous anger.  This insult, this barbaric assault on a good man cannot stand.  The President, already convinced of his innate regal authority, is  now claiming divine right.  If there were ever a reason to believe his is off his rocker, this is it.  

The howling misery, boiling anger, bilious hatred against ICE and the man who deployed them was nothing compared to this.  Progressives' worst fear was coming true.  The man was possessed, psychotic, and completely unhinged.  

Wailing at an Italian wake was nothing compared to the caterwauling cries on neighborhood streetcorners, from the pulpits of normally quietly liberal churches, on college campuses, and on the National Mall.  

Nothing has energized the Left, feeling more and more marginalized and ridiculed as the fancy clothes of its queer agenda and renascent socialism came off, than this. 'See, we told you', said women who had still not gotten over the defeat of Kamala Harris, the Left's own divine one. 

Never before in American political history has their been such animus, such ad hominem hatred, such belief in the demonic possession of a president than with Donald Trump.  Policy, programs, political philosophy, geopolitical gamesmanship have all been overlooked in the miasma of feral attacks leveled at the President. This was the final straw. 

But it was the Left that was made to look ridiculous.  Most Americans knows that Trump is a showman, a comedian, an Eddie Murphy Raw performer, a Jackie Mason in spades, a hilarious man without a scintilla of political correctness, a crude, expletive-spouting hero; and the Left's apoplexy looked like the insane St. Vitus' dancers, hopping around in a crazy, demented, mad Virginia reel. 

It's not who can take Trump seriously.  It's who can take the Left seriously. The Congressional side show of Schumer, AOC, Elizabeth Warren, Cory Booker and their shills is just for openers.  Their crazed gotchas, wild stump speeches, and unhinged viral hysteria has spread.

Normally well-adjusted burghers, happy in house and home, politically engaged but never outlandish, have become whirling dervishes. 

The circus comes around only every so often, and no Barnum & Bailey big top can possibly match what is going on in Washington right now.  It's worth the price of admission and then some.  No need to spend money to see two-headed babies and bearded ladies.  No entry fee is required to see a freak show par excellence.  Schumer et al are providing all the freaky Fridays you will ever need. 

Trump as Jesus? Sure, why not.  Nothing the Left has thrown at Trump in ten years has stuck, but that has not dampened their enthusiasm.  'We must...we have to...we're bound and determined to...', but those intentions are just whistlin' Dixie. 

The Straits Of Hormuz, Isn't That Homophobic? - The Last Circus Act In The Gender Big Top

In a hilarious send-up, an eager young woman is asked if she doesn't think the term 'The Straits of Hormuz' is homophobic. 'Why isn't it called The Gays of Hormuz'.  She enthusiastically agrees. 

When the President was told of the interview, he laughed and said, 'You never know what you'll find under those burqas' which of course set off the usual caterwauling of LGBTQ+ lesbians who seem to be the ones who most defiantly take up the cudgel of gay rights. 

 

Billie-Ann Fitch, spokesperson for the Gay and Lesbian Alliance, had this to say: 'Typical of the man - and I use that term loosely for a closeted gay homophobe who sucks dick in the Oval Office'.  She continued her thought in a rant quoted in full in the queer press.   

The irony of the circle was completely lost on her - a joke, a put-on, gotcha fake news doubled down by the President then taken seriously by 'Billie La Douce', a Bernal Heights butch nickname for her 'lubricious delights'.  Eating out was never such a pleasure, said her protege, associate and speech writer who had come with her to Washington and who had penned her lover's screed.  

The send-up clip and the President's response went viral. In one fell swoop Trump had ridiculed the bagged ladies of Tehran, the idiots who had bought the social media charade, and took a swipe at the whole LGBTQ+ thing.  'Did you mean to disrespect the freely-held views of the gay community?', asked the reporter from CNN at the President's press conference. 

'Disrespect?' he replied.  'No, I respect everyone's opinions, even those which are horseshit'.  The briefing room went quiet.  Now, that was going overboard even for a president who was increasingly using foul language in public utterances, and after a moment of stunned silence, the room erupted.  Reporters blurted incoherent questions, some left the room to file, but many, used to the President's Grossinger's shtick, clapped. 

 

The whole fantastical gender jamboree was finally outed for the clown show it was.  The parade of twisted sisters was finally closed down.  Not even New Orleans Mardi Gras organizers wanted any more of it and shut down the entire gay flotilla for 2027.  The San Francisco Bay-to-Breakers gay 'parade to the sea' was no more, as was the S&M Folsom Street fair. 

Axel Phipps took a last swallow of his beer, hitched his overalls, and waved so long to his afternoon drinking buddies at Ernie's of Greenwood, Mississippi and walked out into the hot summer sun. The cab of his truck was baking, the Mars bar he had left on the dashboard had melted and dripped all the way to the console, and it felt like his pack of Camels would light themselves. 

But Axel was a happy man.  His man in the White House was once again telling it like it is, ridiculing the perverts claiming space in his Nation's Capital, subversives all, political vermin, traitors, and anarchists. Finally and at long last the President was making good on his promise to drain the swamp, set the country on is originalist course, and restore family values. 

'Nothing against them', Axel said, 'as long as they stay out of my pants'.  No fear of that, he mused as he waited for the AC to kick in.  He never had had a sexually seditious thought, never once even wondered what it would be like, sucking some guy's cock and....Here he shook his head to perish the thought. 

God forbid, he said; but he had never until this moment thought of his foreman Brad Loughlin, 'queer as a three-dollar bill' that way.  Good worker, that Brad, never complained, quiet, reserved, none of this swishy stuff you see on television.  

Axel had nothing at gays per se. It was only this Sodom and Gomorrah cavalcade that upset him, this unholy aggressiveness, these demands to strut and pout and call it mainstream which made his blood boil. 

 

Axel had an ally half-way across the country in Chevy Chase, Maryland, a wealthy suburb of Washington, uniformly and universally progressive.  Every other home had a Hate Has No Home Here lawn sign, residents had loudly outed COVID deniers, maskless truants who mindlessly infected others; and were in solidarity with the progressive agenda. They were Trump haters to a man, locked arms in unison in marches for democracy and an end to autocracy, shared their anger and hate with neighbors, and were active in the PTA to assure diversity, equity, and inclusivity. 

Vicki Chalmers was one of the most ardent, active promoters of the liberal canon, and had marched for abortion, the climate, the black man, and most recently the gay, lesbian, and transgender community. She, however, had balked at her elementary school's invitation of a transgender woman, formerly a Brooklyn dockworker, to read to the kindergarten class.  The book 'Love Is Like A Garden' was a story of 'love in all its shapes and sizes'.  It was a story of Robert and Peter who swung on the swings together, took walks in the woods, and - this was the part that alerted Vicki - shared kisses 'under the maple tree'. 

'What's happening to me?', she asked herself at the PTA meeting where parents applauded the school's decision to diversify and become more inclusive but she bridled.  The....thing...that was the only thought that came into her mind, horrible as it was...should never set foot in a classroom. His...or should I say her outfit was as tarted up as could be, all spangles and rouge, dangly earrings, and costume jewelry.  He barked his thank you and welcome introduction, and when he stood up he dwarfed Mrs. Hayes, the principal, and her associate teachers. 

'The Gays of Hormuz', that now famous, viral meme, popped into her head.  The whole ridiculousness of the enterprise, the flogging of gayness, the sacrificial mass to transgenderism, the outrageous pomp and circumstance of a confected sexual fantasy suddenly hit home.  Enough is enough, she said. 

Mississippi Axel and Chevy Chase Vicki might well be seeing the last of the sexual circus, the 'horseshit' so aptly named by the President, the badgering, hectoring, hammering insistence on a sexual inclusivity which was nothing more than a Barnum & Bailey side show.  Let homosexuals fold back into the body politic where they have always peacefully resided. Discrimination against them has increased, not decreased in the progressive era of outing every impossible sexual permutation.  Most people took no notice of the gay pharmacist on Main Street, but now conflated him with the flaming queers on Bay-to-Breakers floats. His interests were disserved, his personal integrity shamed. 

Vicki would of course never vote for Donald Trump in a million years, but she had to admit, privately of course, that he was right in one - the gay cavalcade was over the top, baroque and rococo, and in its twisted excesses. ridiculous. 

Could she be a one issue voter and change her political allegiance?  Was this one definitive, principled stance by the President the turning point?  Perhaps, and she dared not think which lever she would pull in 2028. 

Such is the bully pulpit - the innate power of the Presidency.  All it takes is one dismissive, categorical send-up of something obviously ridiculous for every American to nod in agreement. When woke was the meme, the ethos of the previous administration, the gay thing was take as gospel, never questioned, received wisdom, but it only took Trump's 'horseshit' to clear the air, to send the whole ridiculous kit-and-kaboodle packing. 

Leo XIV And Donald Trump - The Pope Wears Out His Prayer Kneeler But Remains Clueless

'Excommunicate him!' said Leo to his aide-de-camp and closet advisor, Cardinal Emil Lefferts of Belgium, a man steeped in His Holiness' principles of world peace and civil order.  Lefferts had been Leo's counselor and friend for over three decades and knew the Pope's sentiments and convictions. 

'If only it were possible, Holy Father', replied Lefferts. 'Would that the admonitions of Our Lord and Savior applied to all faiths, not just Catholics'. 

Here the Cardinal smoothed the folds on his robes, cleared his throat, and quickly added, 'Well, of course the Lord's heavenly rule applies to all those on earth, even those who have not come to his ministry'. 

'Never mind all that', the Pope retorted.  'I want Trump!'

Stalin when asked if he feared Pius XII who had publicly threated him, said 'How many divisions does the Pope have?'.  The days of Urban I, the Crusades, Pope Gregory VII were long gone Stalin knew.  

The Catholic Church despite its large membership had lost its clout and cojones.  Today in the era of Francis and Leo, it was but a shadow of its former self.  As much as Leo might invoke the name of the Lord and urge Catholics to resist the amoral, anti-Christian actions of the President of the United States, he would just be whistlin' Dixie.

There was a time earlier in the Trump presidency that Leo saw a possible partnership with the president.  Both reviled homosexuality, transgenderism, and the deification of feminist harridans who defiled the Virgin Mary in their assault on traditional marriage.  

In fact he had reached out to Trump on more than one occasion saying that their stars were aligned and that church and state were on the same righteous road. 

But the hoped-for partnership was short-lived.  Trump's capitalist juggernaut, unleashing the private sector, further distorting income inequality, and ushering in an era of Robber Baron wealth on the backs of the poor slammed that door.  What had Leo's decades of selfless work among Peruvian poor produced? The world led by this emperor of wealth, this economic tyrant had given lie to his - and Jesus' work among the less fortunate.  

When Leo had spoken to Trump about this, he got this terse reply, 'Get a job'; and from that moment on, despite the gay thing, he knew that they were on opposite sides of the fence. 

'But this', stammered Leo, referring to the bombs dropped on Tehran, 'is enough.  It cannot stand.  War can never be the solution' and with that he knelt in his own private chapel to quiet his nerves and seek support and guidance from Jesus Christ. 

'Bless me, O Lord, your faithful servant, what am I do do?'.  He looked up at the mournful yet beatific face of Jesus on the cross, and shook his head. 'I am at the end of my rope', he prayed, returning as he was accustomed to the American idiom which after years laboring in the Lord's foreign vineyards he had never lost. 

'Take the gloves off', said Cardinal Lefferts waiting for the Pope as he finished his oblations. 'Man up' and an hour later gave Leo a draft of an oration he wanted him to deliver. 

In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, I condemn Donald Trump's brutality, inhuman horror, and murderous assault on Iran.  In the name of God I expel him from the community of the faithful communicants of Our Lord.  He is a moral reprobate, a spiritual charlatan, a fraud. 

 

'That'll show him we mean business', Lefferts proudly said; but the Pope was worried by the overt hostility of the language.  Lefferts was using the same bilious ad hominem, scurrilous words that Trump himself had used.

'No', said Leo. 'We must be charitable in our response'. 

'Forgive me, Holy Father, for being so blunt; but the man is a prick, pure and simple, and may God forgive my language but facts are facts’.

Leo and Lefferts were not only old friends but bro's who hung out at the Cafe des Deux Magots on the Left Bank and had gotten pissed together on French rotgut and shouted obscenities at the tippy-toeing dandies walking by.  We were men then and we are men now, the Cardinal reminded Leo. 

'Let's wait and see, Emmy', he said to Lefferts.  'The world will heed my prayers'. 

But the world never did.  Instead the Vatican and Leo personally were charged with hypocrisy. When he made this disingenuous statement, 'God does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war', Pope Leo conveniently ignored Catholic history. 

The Crusades were not just armies of the West marching to Jerusalem to rid the Holy City of its Muslim infidel; but a militant statement of the power, glory, and rightful place of Christianity in the world.  They were no different from the marauding armies of Genghis Khan who rode out of the steppes with a hundred thousand horsemen, laid waste to and then conquered the world from Europe to Asia.  

They were the instruments of God’s will, and as such they would be unstoppable.  Over a period of two hundred years, three Crusades marched out of Europe to the East, each to be the final one, the scattering of Islam and the establishment of the one true church. 

The War of the Eight Saints (1375–1378)  arose between Pope Gregory XI and the Italian city-state of Florence, which opposed papal expansion in central Italy. The war was marked by Florence inciting revolts in the Papal States and the Pope retaliating with military action. The war ended with a compromise peace in 1378, contributing to the return of the papacy from Avignon to Rome.

The Holy Roman Empire - Papacy Wars primarily occurring from the 11th to the 13th centuries stemmed from power struggles between the German emperors and the papacy, particularly over the issue of lay investiture. Key events included the Investiture Controversy, where popes sought to establish ecclesiastical independence from imperial authority. Significant battles and political maneuvers characterized this period, culminating in the Concordat of Worms in 1122, which sought to delineate the roles of church and state.

 

This historical ignorance was just the most obvious reason critics wondered whether the new Pope had come loose from his moorings. His deliberate omission of the intricate philosophical debates concerning the nature of just wars is nothing more than political grandstanding, a thinly-veiled criticism of the American war in Iran. 

Worse was ignorance of the Old Testament, a chronicle of the militant victory of the Jews over the infidels of Jericho and the slaughter of tribes opposing Moses and his thousands of Egyptian Jewish refugees fleeing Pharoah. The very foundations of monotheism and Judeo-Christian values was a result of that armed assault. 

'God is on the side of peace', wrote Leo in a press release designed to deflect the surprising turnabout. 'Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye, Colossians 3:1'; but that treacly response only spawned a viral caricature.  

Social media were filled with hilarious cartoons of the vacant, hopelessly idealistic, mooning former priest.  It was a circus, a clown show, a vaudevillian Borscht Belt jamboree.  Never had a pope looked so ridiculous. 

'Don't let him see them', Lefferts told his media advisor.  'Keep the bloody things away from the Pontifical chambers', but papal authority cannot be denied and upon request a dossier of political cartoons was assembled for the Holy Father. 

'Good gracious', Leo said. 'Is that what they think of me' and went into a funk, back to his private chapel, on his knees again but this time asking the Lord to explain it all to him.  He banged away at his rosary, made the sign of the cross a hundred times, bowed and scraped in abject obeisance, but nothing.  The cartoons did not go away. 

It is a sorry spectacle indeed to see this clueless man doddering around the Vatican in his red slippers trying to find his way.  Portraits of the great popes of the past hang on the walls just like the tsars of Russia in the Winter Palace - the popes with power, agency, and might - and as he looked up at them, Leo wondered what had happened. 

 'Here I am Pope Leo XIV with all the regalia of office, the golden staff, the miter, the silken robes, and a direct line to Jesus Christ himself, and I don't know what's what'.  And with that morose thought he indulged himself with a baloney sandwich on white bread with Gulden's mustard.