Dementia on Display
My week in notes
Portrait by Jonh Mcnaughton: “My painting ‘Biden Malaise.’ Remember what President Obama famously said about Joe Biden? "Don't underestimate Joe's ability to F... things up." My new portrait of President Biden will be offered to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington, DC as the companion piece to Obama's official portrait, and to remind people exactly what Obama was talking about. There are various fruits and funguses hidden in the foliage. Try to decipher the deep symbolic meaning of the Biden Presidency and unravel the truth behind it all.”
Recently, I started jotting notes in a daily journal. Writing down details attached to big breaking stories seems to engrain them better. Something about the act of putting pen to paper cements things differently. So much happens in a day—onscreen, behind the screen, and beyond. I don't have the focus at the moment to convey my thoughts cohesively, so here are my journal notes from the past week as alternative. Make of it what you will.
June 1:
Sources on both sides are sure Kamala is the decided replacement. It's happening—just like we predicted months ago. But how do they fix her low favorability? No one I know—not the liberals, the gays, the Blacks, or the feminists—likes her. Who does?
Good news is my Maxwell prison source is back after months of no contact. The newest report: Ghislaine was spotted sifting through the trash after a guard tossed out a stack of her legal papers. "She just stood there digging and digging, trying to piece everything back together," the update read.
July 3:
Oh wait. Oh no. Jill Biden is digging her heels in, and Joe is off-limits now to public critics, even from his own party. It's awful what she's putting him (and us) through. Remember when they vowed to bring decency back to politics? LOL. Who knew Jill was worse than Hillary? The Democrats are eating themselves alive. Malfunctioning Joe is what they deserve. My respect for Obama is fading. He led Joe off stage by the hand like a toddler, then turned around and told us he was still the more respectable option. White House briefings are off the rails—the gaslighting is infuriating. Karine Jean-Pierre live is always like watching a badly acted skit. Why are all of their lead characters so cringe-inducing?
Remember the name of every Dem who stood on national television and told us this is all fine, and things are okay, and we should vote for this guy no matter what because Trump is a liar and Trump is a felon. And after 34 counts, who cares about all the rest. These, the same faces that fed us lies during COVID. Sheep in suits pushing dementia on a global stage without any shame.
"The Democrats will all fall into line—they always do as they're told," a friend assures me. "Just watch."
July 4:
We arrive at the Jetty before dawn on Thursday morning to secure preferred parking spots across from the water. We set up makeshift cooking sections, with each van meticulously arranged to support a long day of food, sun, and festivities. The crowd is a mix of local surfers with sun-bleached hair in vintage Hawaii shirts, their parents, and grandparents. Andy climbs the coral tree to hang my vintage American flag from its highest branches. I purchased the flag in 2011. It was hand-sewn in 1948 by a military wife for her husband's warplane—one of my most prized possessions.
After getting everything settled, I lay a blanket out on the grass to read Olivia Nuzzi's exposé on the conspiracy of silence surrounding Biden's health. She is stuck dealing with the aftermath at The Sunset Tower, so she won’t make it to our beach day. I hope her description of Biden, waxy with eyes not "on," leaves the same haunting impression on everyone who reads it. According to the article, both sides are wondering who is actually running the country.
Later, it’s Link's chance encounter with the Clintons on a flight that grips my attention. Despite more conservative leanings, my admiration for William Jefferson Clinton is unwavering. I still retain a soft spot for Hillary too, even though it provokes disgust whenever I admit to it. Link's detailed account of Bill and Hillary in first class provides all the insights and details I crave. He texts that Bill is friendly and happy to take a selfie with him. Hillary is…less interested. A flirty flight attendant approaches Bill when Hillary gets up to use the bathroom. Bill gives Hillary the book he was reading and picks up a magazine as a replacement when she returns. Hillary loses a hair clip, so she's brushing her hair before landing. Their love will never stop being fascinating to me. A friend told me a story last summer I think about probably once a week. She had just returned from a dip in the ocean and was drying herself off when she felt eyes on her. Turning around, she was met with Bill smiling back at her, Hillary beside him. Turns out that they had rented the house next to hers in Montecito for the weekend.
"I watched them walk away together toward the sunset, holding hands with no one around. Of all the places in the world, they chose to be there together, on a beaten path to the ocean."
This scene—the way she described it—uncomfortably romantic and perversely endearing, will live forever in me.
July 5:
It feels like Arlo has been gone forever. His dispatches are sporadic but enthused. I thought he was wearing a filter on our last FaceTime. I kept telling him to turn it off, but it was him. Over three weeks, he's transformed into a man—a Spanish man, no less. Spain was apparently very influential, even though he said they don't like American tourists "that much." Now I see them online spraying tourists with water guns, screaming for them to leave because it’s too crowded and American tourists are taking up too much space. The South of France was more fun. He sends photos from the train rides that take him to exotic places we’ve never been. It's fair to be a little jealous. He posts a photo opening a bottle of wine in front of a fountain before they enter the museum. "Pregaming Michelangelo," the caption reads. I say no to Egypt when he calls wanting to extend his trip. "You'll get lost or dehydrated," I tell him. "You have to come home at some point."
Now it sounds like maybe Biden isn't leaving. Panic. Confusion. Fury. Sources keep fumbling with incoming information. Updates are chaotic. Predictions shift by the hour. Everyone is wondering how Jill holds this kind of power over the DNC. It's not only up to the Bidens, right? And WTF is Hunter doing in there as a voice of reason—directing the fate of this country?
Meanwhile, Trump is calm on the sidelines watching the left self-destruct. He can be above it now stoic in the downfall. They gave it to him.
On our way to the beach, a bus packed full of friends, we get a call that Rex had an accident while surfing. The X-ray shows a 4-inch fracture to his tibia. Stitches from his board popping out of the water and slicing his forehead in Mexico are newly healed. One of them breaks a bone every year in summer. The woman at the counter at Urgent Care in a mask won't let me in the room with him when I return from grabbing coffee. She says it's small, and they're only allowing two in at a time. In other words, Covid rules are back. Before this, she complained about Rex bringing sand into the office. She sighed aloud sweeping it from the table where his leg was propped. I smile before I slam the door on my exit. We're never coming back here again.
Back home, there are 2 newborn bunnies to care for. The pressure for them to survive and thrive is an added stress. The last two the mother neglected, so they died. Hayes cried for 2 days. He decided she was too young or that maybe it was a “bad batch.” He gives me detailed instructions to follow before he takes off for science camp. He expects updates daily and wants pictures as soon as they open their eyes and climb out of the nest. One more thing to care for. One more thing to worry about.
July 6:
Amidst mounting anxiety, Mark Halperin is the voice of reason in a Zoom call moderating an emergency meeting to discuss all the latest news and shocking headlines. People from all sides of the aisle are voicing their concerns. Some of the faces onscreen are familiar. I spot a couple of well-known pundits, and Meghan McCain is on camera condemning the Bidens for humiliating him this way. Her perspective on the matter is valuable for anyone who's gone through something similar, watching a loved one in decline over an ailment that cannot be healed or reversed. Her insight lends raw emotion to the situation. She shares a video expressing her disgust over the Biden family’s utter disregard for privacy. She says one of her proudest accomplishments is shielding her father from the public’s eye so no one ever saw him in fragile state.
I can't figure out how to turn on my camera when Mark calls on me. Plus, my background is filled with power tools, music, and a violent video game I keep motioning for Rex to mute.
July 7:
It's a goat, not a dog. RFK says there are three things he will never eat: a human, a monkey, and a dog. He was supposed to rescue us from this nightmare, but he's back in Brentwood chasing lizards, catching snakes, and reading books to his pets.
No one is going to save us.
Mike sends all the boys a photo of their youngest brother at camp. Hayes stands proud in a polo posed in front of a college sign near the dorm he's staying in. He's ten with the confidence of a 25-year-old. "I would rather have a broken leg than be at school in the summer," Rex writes back. Arlo doesn't respond because he's napping in Florence. Leon doesn't even know Hayes left.
I wake in the middle of the night fretting if I fed the bunnies enough and recounting every text and email I failed to answer.
July 8:
Biden isn't leaving. Biden is not our burden. Biden isn't budging. Collectively, we are digesting this gross injustice as a new reality. Phases of anger and horror are playing out in real-time. A Hispanic woman at the laundromat where I am waiting for my linens to dry shakes her head from side to side in dismay when Biden appears on a tiny TV hovering above us. Ella, a 60-something Marianne Faithfull look-alike, pulls me aside at a birthday party later in the night to confess her anxiety. She can't sleep either because she doesn't know who is behind this or who is really running the country.
"Join the club," I tell her. “No one knows who’s at the wheel.”
It's not okay. It's not OK. It's not OK. It's not OK.
The phone calls I take are from federal prison. High-profile secrets are spilled in recorded conversations. "You're the only one who can help me, Jess." The plea is desperate. The storyline compelling.
Do we want to know what Epstein revealed in his last weeks on earth? Do I have the bandwidth for another complicated unveiling?
No. But I'll figure it out.
Bumbling Biden / Michael Cohen (on Biden defense) LIVE yesterday
Related: Bud’s Audio Rants
In the midst of all this mayhem, Bud Seigel remains a steady point of unexpected support. He thinks I’ll come closer to God eventually. He’s noticed my following includes a large Christian base and wonders in texted theories why that is.
*Bud’s opinions are not my own but still worth a listen.
“Did you even notice? All the lovers of Jesus that are following you????? You have tens of thousands of devout Christians following you!!! I have a lot of Christian's! You don't have to call yourself a Christian but eventually, I believe you will be a true believer in Jesus Christ. There's nothing really Christian in your content. No It's really weird... usually evangelicals have this kind of following. I think it's because the church isn't doing gods work.... the people are looking for truth. God is going to show you what he's shown me, and you won't be able to not believe.”
Comparing Trump to Jerry Garcia
Celebratory Doomsday Well Wishes For America
Up Ahead Tomorrow: A deep dive into Mathew Perry’s death - reasons behind a new investigation into possible foul play
I love this format. I would love to see more thoughts like this.
Overall, the state of the union is very sad. LOL I'm one of those Christian's following you. It's hard to not get discouraged in the midst of lies and corruption but in my worldview, it's nothing new. It doesn't mean I sit on the sidelines, but regardless of who's REALLY running the White House, my job is to love God and my neighbor. If I can do that, the rest will trickle out. Thank you for your bravery and I'm praying for you and your family!
This is truly one of my favorite posts of yours. You’re always honest in your writing, but there’s a rawness, a vulnerability when you write in real time, the thoughts that many of us are feeling but don’t have a platform for. It’s like chatting with a likewise concerned friend about their family, their fears and their celebrations. Thank you for letting us in.