It’s hard enough being president if you have all your marbles. From The Good Citizen at thegoodcitizen.substack.com:
The perfect puppet President could never comprehend the damage he never remembers he does.
Block quotes = WebMD stages of dementia.
Italics = Inner Dialogue + quotes from the film Memento.
You’ll notice more changes in their thinking and reasoning. They may have trouble making plans, and they may repeat themselves a lot. They may also have a hard time remembering recent events.
So, Where are you? You’re inside an oval office. It doesn’t look like the oval office when Barack was here. It looks like a pretend staged version. Why are you here? There’s a man on a screen who appears to be talking to me. Who is he? Don’t ask me a question, don’t ask me a question…
There are all kinds of generous Papas in the world. At Christmas much of the western world knows the most generous chubby bearded fella who zips around the world with gifts as St. Nikolas but in France he’s Papa Noël. The Soviet Union had Joseph Stalin, also known as Papa Joe. He brought all kinds of gifts to people too, often meted out after long train rides to nowhere. What the last election in the U.S. really boiled down to (aside from some vote rigging in five counties in five states to swing it in favor of management’s choice, something we’re not allowed to talk about) is an unaccountable rogue state apparatus of intelligence agencies and party apparatchiks who work for unelected foreign global interests to have the greatest gift they could ever hope for, a puppet President who doesn’t know what day it is. He was selected on the third day of the eleventh month and glory to the regime they called him Papa Dementia.
Papa Dementia likes ice cream and young children. He licks one and caresses and smells the other. Disgusting? Yes, his own daughter agreed in her diary after some “inappropriate showers” she was unable to suppress. Remember undemented readers, that was the man before dementia. The one who had an affair with his campaign fundraiser’s wife, the now devoted handler to dear Papa, Dr. Jill. Doctor of palliative care? No. Doctor of mediocre community college reformation dissertations and spousal and elder abuse. The esteemed Doctor Jill whom the corporate media drools over incessantly after spending four years ignoring the deplorable immigrant first lady who wanted to be best. Immigrants are only sometimes a strength.