Trump announced today that his trial separation from Reality has turned into an official divorce due to irreconcilable differences.  “Reality is a bitch,” he complained on the Supreme Courthouse steps after they had handed down a 6-3 decision in his favour.  “She had far too many unrealistic expectations of me,” he added. 

In an early morning Truth Narcissist rant he expanded on the theme: “I like to build skyscrapers and things especially the pie-in-sky sort with a side order of chips and a diet coke, but I allowed her to redesign the Rose Garden.  When I said there wasn’t enough gold, Reality went off in a huff because I was using the golf cart at the time.  She has since given me the hot tongue, cold bum treatment from Mar-a-Laager where she has decamped to.  I was not happy about the whole camp thing either and she doesn’t even like the way I dance to YMCA as she says that I dance with gay abandon, but it is not something I am prepared to DEI on a hill for. 

“You know that, because I’m clever, like when I tell people that there’s a silent b in debt, they turn around to me and say, ‘Sir, you are clever.  How do you know all these things?’  I tell them that I am a stable genius which makes me an SI (Supreme Intelligence) which is better than an AI or even an XI.  Actually, I cleverly tell everyone who will listen that XI stands for Unknown Intelligence as no one can solve for him with his slit-eyed Chinese way.  In fact, sometimes I don’t know if he is asleep or just being inscrutable.  At least with me, you know when I’m asleep.  But coming back to silent b’s . . .  Hey, I bet you thought I was going off script.  That was just my famous weave like when I played tight end in High School.  All the cheerleaders thought I was a tight end when I didn’t buy them drinks, and I think I still have the tightest end of any President in History.  But about debt – only stupid people like Dumbocrats’ pronounce it deBt.  Actually, I love debt so much that I’ve increased it by $2 trillion since I became your favourite president for the second time.   Then I started a me me coin called $TRUMP and Reality accused me of profiteering.

“But Reality really upset me when she stopped me from seeing my BFF, Epstein.  She actually drove him to commit suicide – that’s how tough she is with other people so you can imagine what it was like to live with her 24/7.

“Reality then complained when our pool went green after I had spent so much on it and that I was always flying off to play golf when we needed to sort out domestic affairs.  I tried to seduce her with my new architecturally enhanced ball room and lovingly decorated our house with marble and tasteful kitsch – nada! 

“I struggle to understand her accent and she can’t interpret my hand gestures so our communication broke down a long time ago.  Reality also then accused me, in her thick East European accent, of sleeping with Putin which is just low IQ because his age and man boobs don’t do it for me and, even if he plays with babushka dolls, he doesn’t have a kitty cat I can grab.   I complained to Blanche about it.  After involving NI (National Intelligence) and SI, between them and his French surname, they managed to work out that Reality was accusing me of sleeping with a putain, a whore.  I just don’t understand women and Reality in particular.  Why does she still hold that Stormy in a D-cup against me?  The Stormy night only lasted a few hours anyway and cost my company a measly $150,000 – Chump change.  Then Reality hit me with 34 felony charges for declaring my 1/12^th night stand to be tax deductible – I ask you with crocodile tears in my blue eyes.

“Well, you can’t win them all, but I do win all my golf tournaments and I should have won three presidencies already except the second one was rigged unlike my tournaments. Thank you for your attention in this matter, your favourite precedent, Donald Trump.”

Day after day you wake up in this country to the same old headlines of corruption, incompetence and laziness.  Initially SMAC fought back with satirical opinion pieces illustrated with ridiculing cartoons.  After lambasting the same-old, same-old SONA speech year after year, sonorously read off by that master of platitudes, Cyril, SMAC realized it was time to move on before his head turned to putu pap.  He even cancelled his Daily Maverick contribution to preserve his positive outlook on life.  After a diversion into the delusional world of Putin came the master of all delusion, Trump, who grabbed the world by its collective pussy and got SMAC’s full attention.  Every single day Trump does something so stupid, so cringeworthy, so narcissistic that an intelligent person’s brain eventually ends up like the ball in a pinball machine played by an expert player if followed for too long.   The only survival strategy was to go cold turkey which has worked for a few weeks.

So, although this Quick SMAC is not about him (who must be obeyed in the current US Administration of bootlickers), SMAC timorously invokes his name as a segue into a similar businessman in South Africa.  If Trump has delusions of grandeur and has conned people out of a lot of money and their votes with his overhyped self-promotion, promises, exaggerations and lies, he has a mirror locally in the slimy Iqbal Surve.  He is in fact Trump lite, about 50kgs lighter, and doesn’t want to rule the world, but just SA. 

A few years ago he wanted to become a media mogul and do his black transformation bit so he decided to buy the Independent News & Media (think Cape Times, Argus etc.) and to trash it with his vision of ‘journalism’, fake stories and self-promotion.  One problem though, he was short of funds so he approached the PIC (Public Investment Corporation which is supposed to prudently invest government pension funds).  In South Africa there was a popular radio game show that ran from 1955 to 1975 called, Pick a Box, with the catch phrase, “Money or the box!”   All Iqbal had to do was to PIC the doos*.  This was Dan Matjila, head of PIC, and the doos spewed out billions from his cash register.  That went tits up when Iqbal stopped paying the interest on the debt.  It got worse when he squeezed even more money out of the doos with a pie-in-the-sky media play that was going to be worth tens of billions.  Sounds just like Trump, doesn’t he.  This move was too puke inducing for SMAC to pursue at the time when SMAC was quitting commenting on SA.  However, since SMAC takes an interest in aeronautical matters, his eye was attracted to a recent article about a helicopter crash published by Independent on Line, a part of Iqbal’s empire of 3^rd rate news reporting. 

The headline screamed helicopter crash in Zim, the caption of the attached photo repeated the claim and so did the reporting in the article.  In their incompetence they used a photo of a private jet crash.  To compound this, it looks like the jet was AI generated as the engine assembly is odd, the fuselage seems to be unpainted and there are no plane numbers visible.  Perhaps they were a bit cheap and didn’t want to pay for even a stock photo but at least they could have got the helicopter bit right.

*doos is Afrikaans for box and also used as an insult as in, “You’re a c&%t!”

Trump has more early morning brain farts than your average pubescent boy has early morning wet dreams.  The comparison is apt.  Both have messy and normally embarrassing outcomes.  Trump is no stranger to both results with the exception that he’s never embarrassed.  That particular piece of his 101-piece jigsaw puzzle is missing – a factory fault.  The difference is that wet dreams are the involuntary remit of pre-mature boys whereas the brain farts of the magnitude of Trump’s are the territory of a post-mature arsehole.

His latest wet dream brain fart is the petty one of renaming Lake Ontario to Lake America because he is irked that Canada won’t be cowed by his trade war threats.  The fact that was known as Lake Ontario before the USA even became an independent nation is meaningless to Trump because his knowledge of history only extends as far as his last Big Mac.

The last time he did this was early on in his ill-conceived global trade war using unilaterally decided tariffs as a weapon.  He had a particular animus towards Mexico probably because of immigrants and drugs entering the States and made a great play of issuing an executive order that changed the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America – as petty as petty can get.  If he ever joined the Navy he would immediately rise to the rank of Petty Officer and remain that way until retirement. 

Of course, all the tech bros, mindful of their billions and Trump’s retribution, fall in line and using Google Maps in the U.S. will see “Gulf of America,” and people in Mexico will see “Gulf of Mexico.” Everyone else will see both names.  Likewise for the rebranded Lake America.

Picking Rodin’s statue, The Thinker, is appropriately snarky because he is the antithesis of a thinker.  The depth of his thinking is no deeper than his famously thin skin which matches his shallow character.  It is also apt because of the whole Emperor’s clothes thing.  Changing that to The Stinker is an obvious next step as all his brain farts stink and he literally does too.  Judging by the reactions of people around him at pressers, he sometimes fires off some real whoppers.  He is also spotted with suspiciously bulky underwear and it isn’t the latest in bulletproof apparel to protect the family jewels.  Normally, this never be something to mock in an 80-year-old, but since he is a malicious and serial insulter and since he is inordinately proud of the AI slop portraying him as a manly heroic figure, it’s game on.

Trump is much more than a GOAT.  In fact, he is a GLOAT – Greatest Liar Of All Time – and some of his greatest are the lies that he tells about himself.  As a bored again Christian he often portrays himself as, if not the saviour of mankind, at least the saviour of America with his miracles and his love of his people.  (Remember too that he had to wander around in the wilderness for 4 years and be charged with a back-breaking 34 counts before he was resurrected.)  As a fisher of men though, his arm span is not large enough to describe his self-declared achievements. 

He has constantly sought immortality through his executive orders, riding roughshod over convention and law.  He has appended his signature tag, that is in desperate need of defibrillation, to so many fatuous orders and boldly signed them with his Sharpies that by now they must be Blunties.

He is so desperate to be the greatest President ever that he has started economic and physical wars with enemies and allies alike but which he is incapable of ending.  Starting so many wars also gives him the dubious claim to the Nobel Peace Prize for ending all of them (eventually).

Having failed to gain that recognition, he is using his prestigious talents in the art of interior design (according to himself) to convert Federal buildings into something akin to the interior of a Dubai nightclub.  Suffering from ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyper Decoration disorder – he soon ran out of marbled bathrooms and wall space for his gold tat in the Whitehouse.

So, to set his greatness in stone, he has or intends to undertake monumental works.  After all, they will remain long after he has shuffled off, whereas no amount of executive orders can protect his tacky décor choices.  Without a plan, and after a night of Stormy tossed dreams, he woke up with an idea for an erection – he was going to build an enduring legacy, a grand ballroom.  He promptly smashed the old one down before anyone could object.  With the courts threatening to stymie him, he pivoted disgracefully and declared it to be an emergency and that he was building a huge secure Fuhrer bunker below his gold and marble grandiose erection.  In addition, he has teased plans for a huge Arc de Trump and immortalising himself as the 5^th president on Mt Rushmore.

To further promote his legacy, he has moved on from trashing his predecessors, particularly Obama and Biden. Like a delinquent graffiti artist, he now actively tries to get his tag slapped onto everything from airports through to the Kennedy Centre and everything in between.  It looks like he’s moved on from the blame game to the name game.

His latest brain fart occurred on 27 August when he posted on Untruth Sociopath his ranking of the greatest presidents, naturally with himself at the top and Obama and Biden stone last.   But in line with modern thinking on how to bring up kids and avoid hurting their delicate little egos, he should just get a participation certificate at best.

Men, when they are young, tend to wake up with a morning glory.  Unfortunately, that joyful event dissipates with age and Trump is well past that age.  However, it would seem that he has replaced that with his peculiar mental hard-ons that he wakes up with in the wee-wee hours of the morning.

His recent debacle surrounding the reflecting pool is a case in point, or a pointed case, whatever the case may be.  No I am not talking about him using guys he knew who proved to be singularly unqualified, or that the price increased 10 fold over what he originally sold his idea at, or that he blamed all and sundry for their aggressive attacks on his pool liner, or that he forced his Justice Department to arrest and try one man with the most heinous felony of merely touching a part of floating loose liner, or, or . . .

No, the bit that proves that this was just a random ill-formed thought bomb that he woke up with was that he wanted the liner to be coloured patriotic American flag blue.  He triumphantly trumpeted that aspect thinking that his opponents would turn green with envy at his decorative skills (they’re lucky he didn’t choose gold) when in fact it was his pool that turned green. 

If he was so offended by the green algae then why didn’t he just also paint the oval WW2 War Memorial pool that sits at one end of the reflecting pool blue as well?  Obviously, his nocturnal thoughts are like a morning glory that focuses the immature male brain on the problem in hand to the exclusion of wider considerations and future downsides.

On Sunday, 19 August, Infantino the Terrible awarded Trump his last ball and gave him a golden shower which took Trump back to the heady days of 2013.

For those who don’t know the context, the Roger Steele intelligence report of 2017 reported that during Trump’s visit to the Miss World pageant in Moscow in early November 2013, he arranged for prostitutes to perform a golden shower routine on the bed that Barack and Michelle Obama used during their visit to Moscow years before.  For those of you who don’t know what a golden shower is, SMAC’s lips are sealed – that’s what Google’s for. 

This, of course, was delicious and salacious and any other kind of -cious kompromat (Russian term for compromising material useful for bribing) and fed the story of Russian interference in the 2016 US Presidential elections.  Trump, as is his wont, denies it and goes so far as to say that he wasn’t even there.  The latter is a proven lie and as James Comey, erstwhile FBI Director who investigated Trump, points out that when someone lies about one thing in an investigation, all bets are off concerning his credibility, not that it’s ever worried Trump before – it’s his standard operating procedure and he probably secretly gets off on it.  Trump just says they’re tall stories after all Comey is 6’ 8” (2.03m for advanced nations) and throws shade on Trump.

Some more context to the photos: No Trump rally would be complete without a “Sir, . . .” or a “Daddy, . . .” story.  Now those are truly tall stories, just like Trump’s claimed current height of 1.91m (6’ 3” for backward Americans).

It is doubtful that Trump reads and, if he does, he definitely doesn’t read for meaning.  In fact, he probably considers it demeaning, after all possessing the world’s greatest intellect means that nobody can teach him anything.  So, it is quite ironic that he is going to build a huge presidential library.

Ok, ok.  A presidential library is more than your bog-standard library.  They have become a feature of every president of the United States since Herbert Hoover (31st president, 1929–1933). It’s more like a time capsule of what went down during the tenure, or reign in Trump’s case, of the president with the focus on events surrounding him.  Naturally there will be a lot of memorabilia alongside all the documents and records. 

For Trump it will be the ultimate brag wall and include such historic pieces such as his fake FIFA Peace Prize and tacky gifts from sycophantic tinpot dictators.  It will be a completely immersive experience of life inside Trump’s arsehole.  There will be lots of merch like personally signed MAGA* caps and probably a complete box set of his 900 plus rallies.    

It is another one of his grifts – it is to be built on 2.6-acre prime waterfront real estate worth $67 million and previously owned by the Miami Dade College.  The Board of Trustees of this public institution magnanimously decided to give it back to the state and then, in late September 2025, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis grifted it to Trump’s presidential library foundation.

T⁴ (Trump, The Tacky TACO) has already teased what his library will look like.  A foreplay of the library was presented on the Trump Library Foundation’s website.  It is roughly a 50-storey glass building that looks more like an hotel or office block, the upper blocks of which Trump has already teased will so be – another Trump grift in plain sight.  Naturally the exterior will prominently feature Trump’s name emblazoned in gold and massive portraits of himself.  The ground floor will be given over to a display of military jets and the Qatari grifted Boeing 747 presidential jet.  There will be a massive golden ballroom room, a replica Oval Office complete with his tacky gold tat on the walls and finally a massive auditorium with a 5 times life-size golden statue of Trump in a defiant pose.

From small beginnings great libraries grow – maybe.

The books are as fake as their owner, just like the old Texan saying – all hat, but no cattle.

Size matters a lot to Trump.  It’s the only metric he’s interested in.  Superlatives are his stock trade when talking about himself and, in the negative sense, about others.

So let us put aside the many disastrous issues surrounding his latest pet project – the Lincoln Reflecting Pool. Let’s forget about the no-bid contracts that were issued to ‘great guys’ he knew and that it is running at 7 to 10 times what he originally stated, just like his ballroom; or that the new surface coating is lifting; or that the pool immediately turned Iranian green; or that they tried to spin it that it was blue when it was actually green by taking a photo from such a low angle that it reflected the sky.  These have been tediously discussed and lampooned and dissected on many news channels and podcasts.  SMAC wishes just to focus on the early impress conference that Trump held on 23 April in the Oval Office to brag about the gargantuan job that only he could undertake.

In that presser, he pulled out a large cardboard poster comparing the pool size to well-known American buildings bearing the headline – OUR POOL IS BIGGER THAN SKYSCRAPERS. 

The first problem is he’s comparing rhinos to polar bears.  They are completely different beasts.  Why not compare their volumes?  The One World Trade Center has 130x the volume of the Pool.  What about comparing it to the height of the Burj Kalifa in Dubai which is 35 % taller than the pool is long?  Then, although he had touted a dark blue paint, a somber contemplative color as befitting the idea of the pool, his poster showed a light blue sparkling pool like his pool at Mar-a-Lago in Florida because Trump likes bright things.

Finally, he just couldn’t resist tweaking its dimensions, after all, this is a big project for a big man.  Judging from the scaling of his picture, the pool is 2100-2150 ft long, ~5% more than its actual length. Its width is also about 120% wider than its true relative width. 

Capping it all, just to show what a bunch of clowns the chief clown surrounds himself with, the scaling misses out the 500 ft increment.

Finally, he just couldn’t resist tweaking its dimensions, after all, this is a big project for a big man.  Judging from the scaling of his picture, the pool is 2100-2150 ft long, ~5% more than its actual length. Its width is also about 120% wider than its true relative width. 

Capping it all, just to show what a bunch of clowns the chief clown surrounds himself with, the scaling misses out the 500 ft increment.

He has once again been proven to be as shallow as the Pool (average about 0.5m) and, like his medical examinations that falsely declare his height to be 6’3”, his penchant for showmanship based on lies, exaggerations and spurious information has been bust yet again.