DonOld Trump’s Greatest Hits: Recycled Garbage

Julie Bolejack

06 Mar 2025 — 2 min read

Ladies and Gentlemen, Fellow Victims of Recycled Ramblings,

It is with great reluctance that I bring you this urgent plea: Donald J. Trump—pardon me, DonOld Trump—needs new material.

I know, I know. It’s difficult to improve upon the classics: the grievances, the self-pity, the finger-pointing at windmills (or more accurately, wind turbines). But his latest State of the Union Rebuttal—or as historians will likely title it, The Longest Yelp Review in History—proves that even the most dedicated charlatan must, at some point, update the act.

For those who had the stamina to endure the performance, you may have noticed a few new hits added to the old playlist. He’s now generously expanding the United States! Canada? Sure, why not? The Panama Canal? Absolutely! Greenland? Of course! After all, what’s a little annexation among friends? Perhaps next week, he’ll announce the purchase of the moon, citing Mar-a-Lago as a strategic launch site.

But even with these thrilling additions to his “alternative history” tour, it’s clear that DonOld is running on fumes. The schtick is stale. The same tired lines, the same wounded theatrics—even the lies are getting boring. One might expect a man with so many lawsuits to his name to be better at inventing new stories, yet here we are, stuck in a perpetual loop of “I won, I’m a victim, everyone is mean to me.”

Now, far be it from me to criticize a performer in the twilight of his routine, but when your greatest innovation is rehashing a 19th-century Manifest Destiny fever dream, it’s time to send the scriptwriters back to work.

So, dear reader, let us raise our glasses (preferably filled with something stronger than Diet Coke) and toast to DonOld Trump, the man who is somehow both completely unhinged and incredibly predictable at the same time. And let us hope that, in his next act, he at least surprises us with something new—perhaps a claim to have personally invented electricity, or a promise to build a golden escalator straight to heaven.

Until then, we endure.

Yours in bemused exhaustion,
Julie Bolejack, MBA

#DonOldSchmaltz

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