TRUMP SAYS FUCK YOU PUTIN AND DOUCHEBAG BANK. YOU ARE STIFFED.

WTF is this thing between Putin and Trump? What does Putin have over Trump that makes chickenshit Donnie refuse to even say anything bad about Putin and Russia?

Trump has the biggest, stupidest mouth about every idiotic subject put before him. He seems to be a learning disabled total dope. But, he craps in his depends when the Kremlin comes up. He is silent. He cannot keep his thoughts or strategy together for more then an hour about anything it seems. Yet, he surely pisses in his pants when Russia or Putin are mentioned. 

Why doesn't he get up there on his bully pulpit and say "Hey Putin, hey Russia, go f-k yourselves. I am not afraid of you. I know that you made me President and got the Douchebank bank to lend me all my money but I don't care. You are stiffed. Just like most of the other people I have done business with. 

So stick it up your asses Putin and Russia. I' ain't paying you shit.

Sue me!

OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD): SWEATING OVER AIR CONDITIONING

Long ago, I was sitting in my office in a high rise building. It was a modern structure that presumably had excellent systems including reliable ventilation systems. That is what I was told when I signed the lease. One summer day I entered the office and it seemed too hot. I checked the vents and no air was blowing out. I called the building office and reported the problem. The call taker apologized and said it would be fixed soon. A maintenance person would be coming up. 

I have severe obsessive compulsive disorder (ocd). I started fixating on the glass entry door waiting impatiently for the maintenance person who did not appear after fifteen minutes. So, after an hour of being more and more preoccupied and watching for the door to open with the, maintenance person my familiar high anxiety set in. I felt hotter and hotter and started to sweat profusely. I became unable to think about or focus on the abundance of things that I needed to pay address to in my very busy legal practice. 

My life suddenly depended on the air conditioning getting fixed. It was a seventy-two degree morning, according to the weatherperson on the radio, and it was going to get slightly warmer, maybe up to seventy-five degrees. No big deal. In my sick mind it seemed like a hundred degrees already. My shirt was soaked and my face was dripping beads of sweat. Another thirty minutes passed and no maintenance person appeared. I was experiencing the beginning of another OCD episode. I knew that what was happening to me was totally psychological. My lifetime OCD disorder was triggered. I had endured the same king of anxiety as the air conditioning not working in hundreds of other forms before ever since I was a small child trying to straighten my pillow perfectly for hours at a time. 

Sweating. But, logic and understanding has nothing to do with OCD. Obsessive compulsive disorder has a mind of it's own. So all my knowledge of my condition was meaningless. I called the building office again and got the same answer. The maintenance person was going to be there. Be patient please. There was an emergency in another office I was told. I was jumping up and down out of my chair like a jack-in-the box. continually checking every vent as if air was magically going to start blowing out. I also kept vigilantly staring at the office door watching for the promised maintenance person to enter. It had now been two hours since I first called the office and I was in intense psychological pain. I finally asked the other four people in the office if they were hot, knowing I would not stop asking them once I started. "We're fine," they said in unison. 

They never once commented on the temperature. I watched them work comfortably and easily as I was going crazier and crazier with anxiety.

"Come over here by my desk,” I asked all four. “Does it feel hot?” “Uh uh, It's fine. Maybe you're not feeling well?” “I'm fine, I'm fine,” I insisted, not wanting to admit I'm sick in the head. I tried to work but couldn't. I just sat and stared at the door. When the third hour passed without the maintenance person arriving. I was a madman. I could only think about how much I hated that person and this building. I was very nervous about calling the building office again. thinking I was going to wear them out and start getting ignored. 

That had happened in many similar situations. Then, I would really be stuck. I could not focus on phone calls, simple questions or tasks. I was totally dysfunctional. I could not offer anything to my $300,000 a year legal practice except dripping sweat. I also had to do the vent checking sneakily because I did not want to be exposed to the staff as being crazy by attracting attention to my erratic checking behavior. I also stayed fixated on the door from my desk. That is all I did in the midst of a sea of business where I was the one in charge. 

Nobody else said a word about being hot. The weather report kept saying it was a beautiful day, a prefect seventy two degrees. The logic and reality of the words meant nothing to me. I was in my OCD zone of torment. After another twenty minutes, I could not take the waiting any more. I asked the others again if any of them had gotten hot. Only one answered. “Not at all.” I called the office again, this time the same voice picked up the phone. I became the rude, entitled, impatient animal I can be. I screamed at the same victim of my insanity. “Where is he, already?” She only said ”I'm sorry. He's still on an emergency. 

Please, be patient” she begged. After a little more time existing in what I felt like was a personal desert I asked my workers again if they felt hot yet. "It's fine here" was all I got from the others who were indifferent, and busy working. One person got up and opened a few of the windows and said, "It's beautiful outside. We don't even need air. This breeze should do it for you." I knew from many years of OCD torment, that this breeze, nice as it was, would not relieve me. The reality that it was my abnormal brain getting caught on an OCD thought was very familiar to me. I felt like I was being bullied by this building. I felt I was a victim of being ignored and being left powerless to resolve my air conditioning problem. 

I was intimidated like I was as a little boy getting bullied. Powerless and afraid. Fear. That is the essence of OCD. All the therapy, the meditation, reading, deep breathing, writing, working out still gave me no relief. I needed the air conditioning to work perfectly. Relief is all that that mattered to me. I had to get rid of that feeling that all pf us with OCD know. Finally, after four hours, a maintenance guy walked in and apologized for the wait. He checked the thermostat and quickly announced that the problem was solved. Batteries were all that were needed which he popped into the thermostat and then he politely left. 

The vents started blowing cool air in beautiful unison. But, was the air as cool as it was supposed to be? I bothered each of the four other people again to check the temperature of the office and they each said it seemed fine as it had been all day. I tried to focus on work, but could not. I was possessed with checking and rechecking vents for the next two hours. Every ten minutes I would sneak over to a vent and feel the air. Finally, despite everything, I decided the air was not blowing cool enough even though the room temperature was a perfect seventy degrees. I still thought it was too hot. I tried to work but still could not. I went down to the building office and talked to the building manager. 

He came back up to my office with me, and brought the maintenance guy also. He had been told of my phone calls and demands for service. All agreed the office was comfortable and that the air was working just like it was in the other two hundred offices. They asked everyone if the temperature was comfortable. All said yes again. The guys left with me giving them an insincere okay, but I was quickly checking vents again and thinking that the air still was still not enough. I again went down to the office. Only this time the building manager would not talk to me. I raised my voice at him. He got angry and invited me to break my lease and leave with no penalty, if I was so unhappy. He said I was too difficult to deal with and calmly said to maybe see a Dr. 

 I went back to my office and just sat and stared at the ceiling till it was time to go home. I still had a barking dog at a neighbors' house to deal with. It was bothering me although the dog was not really barking much. But, I felt I had to do something. 

I ended up breaking my lease at my office building and moving my staff to another space. Soon after I also moved my residence to another building that has no dogs. The lady made no promises of keeping the barking dog quiet. 

I could not live with that. So, I moved. But, in my new apartment, I realized a neighbor was slamming the adjacent apartment door too loudly. I am trying to figure out what to do with that one now. It's on my mind all the time. The misery of obsessive compulsive disorder does not stop when you are afflicted. It is as strong as Superman and as smart as Einstein. There is no peace but there are ways to cope. The hammer in my head rests sometimes but always comes back pounding. But, I am not afraid of it. You can too.

OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD): IT IS JUST AN URGE

Obsessive, compulsive disorder is a brutal mental illness which affects a very small part of the population. In the US, about 1.1% of the people have it and it is evenly split between males and females. Over 2.2 million individuals are afflicted. It is so simple to understand but brutally hard to deal with.

The entire condition is based on thoughts. Just thoughts. So think different thoughts you say and you are cured.? 

Ha-ha !!

No. No. No.

Don't forget, just because you resolve one OCD symptom you do not get rid of the entire disorder. So, the trick is to learn how to deal with your OCD by not acting out in all the goofy ways you do now. Acting out does not work.

I am now having an urge to call someone on the phone which would likely create a problem. At minimum, it would start an OCD cycle where I would have to start calling and calling trying to get my problem with this person resolved.

The problem is I have no real problem with him. The problem is with my thoughts. 

That is reassuring and gives me relief.

I also know I am not going to create a problem with the crazy thought that I can end this perceived problem with a phone call. Maybe I could and maybe I couldn't. It doesn't matter. 

Another OCD problem would soon follow. There is relief in that knowledge. I am sick

So, I chose to write about this. Maybe it will help someone else. It is certainly helping me. My desire to call this guy has diminished.

Working out, talking, meditation, reading are all answers to coping with OCD.

Acting out does not work. I have the scars to prove it.

The stove might still be turned on or the lady did not respond right to your apology or or or. 

An external fix does not last.

In people with OCD thoughts get stuck in their head and most sufferers do not know how to deal with the torment. 

Ironically, the answer to how to deal with OCD is to not deal with it!! 

It is just an urge. It will decrease and go away if it is not fed, When you do not act on it than it starves.

But, and it is a big but, OCD urges are so overwhelming and intense that it is almost impossible to deal with them without knowledge of how to. 

Just to clarify, it is obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) whether it is to wash your hands again and again, check the lights. check that pimple again, touch your nose, count to ten, arrange your desk. check your toes. take a shower, ad to your hoarding collection, or perform any compulsion you feel an urgency to perform over and over. Again and again is the key word.

We are talking about checking for hours on end. We are talking about being soaked in sweat from anxiety when an OCD episode occurs. It can last for hours, days, weeks, months, or years.

Fear of harming yourself or another, fear of saying or doing something embarrassing or dangerous, or fear of anything or anybody in an abnormal way, needing constant reassurance that something was done right, and on and on are common obsessions.

When any thought consumes ones mind in a perpetual, non stop, disabling way it is usually from (OCD) obsessive compulsive disorder.

That means being so focused or consumed by a thought or urge that it owns you.

It can be about what you are going to eat three days from now or being afraid you will throw the dog down the steps.

I had an obsession about tin foil for years. I was afraid to bite down on the foil because I remembered it once hurt my teeth. Tin foil kept me in bed for days being depressed and not wanting to see any tin foil. Even after I had bit down on the foil and felt no pain I still, to this day, avoid chewing anything with tin foil on it.

I had another obsession when I was 25 years old. I thought I had prostate cancer. No matter how many times the Dr. checked me and told me nothing was wrong with my prostate I still demanded to be put in the hospital for a torturous test. The Dr, came in my room afterward and said

“You are fine. See a psychiatrist."

I am 72 now and I am not fine. 

But, I am much better.

THE MISERY OF MONSTER #2016 (TM)

Exactly forty two more torturous minutes until he got satisfaction. He obsessively kept looking at the time on his little television screen. 

Then, three Big Macs, four bags of burned French fries, and two extra large sodas, with three chunky chocolate chip cookies, would be arriving. 

His small, smelly, solitary cell sat alone in a corner in the bowels of the prison. He could not be allowed nor did he want to be in the general population. 

He was too hated for destroying the country.

He would be easy, high value, desirable prey.

Two different, muscular, serious men in suits would make each food delivery three times a day, everyday, without comment.

The men would return exactly thirty minutes after each feeding to take away the always empty, sloppily, crunched up garbage.   

The waiting was excruciating for the man they named the monster. 

The monster nickname was an oxymoron. 

The other prisoners knew him to be a physical coward from the few times he was tested when he first arrived.

Then, the warden isolated him from all the other prisoners so he could be protected. 

The big slob paced and drooled waiting to be fed.

His feedings were all he lived for now. 

Obese, sloppy, prisoner 2016 sat listening for the footsteps alerting him to today's delivery.

The monster neither cared nor thought of anything else but the food that was coming. 

He received very few visitors. 

His life was miserable. 

LIFE IN JAIL FOR Donald J. TRUMP

He sat alone at the table built only for him. He is the man they call the monster.

No one is allowed to get within six feet of him.

Inmates filled the air with vicious insults.

They hate him.

The monster kept his face down and grabbed food with both hands, stuffing his mouth and gulping diet sodas.

Oblivious.

Four men in suits guarded him. Always.

He was served only junk food as he wished.

He ate and drank like a hungry animal.

Eating was his only joy.

He did nothing else.

No one was envious.

He had ruined America.

TRUMP MAY RESIGN SCREAMING: I WANT MY DADDY !!

Truth by David Stein

He quietly dialed the stored numbers of the heads of major US news outlets. 

It was 3am Tuesday in Washington. 

The same words were said to each startled person with no greetings or apology.

“It's the President.” 

The voice was unmistakable to the thirty people called from the oversized, greasy, black cell phone.

He ordered each of them to attend an emergency press conference at the White House West Wing at exactly 12pm later that day.  

Each call ended with the words “no questions” and an abrupt hang up. 

He then called key cabinet members and instructed them to come to the noon conference with the stern admonition “no questions”. 

Finally, he called Chief of Staff, Jack King, his oldest, most loyal confidant and only real friend in his 75 years of privileged existence. 

He directed him, without hesitation, to have the outdoor West Wing set up for “a big crowd” of reporters and others that would be attending the “high noon” press conference he had decided on.

“What's going on, Mr. President?” Jack King, excitedly blurted out. 

“I'm done, Jack. I can't take anymore. It's over. The con is folding at noon today.

“All my loyal supporters better get ready to go to jail or to go out looking for real jobs. 

“I've decided to tell the country the truth. The real truth.

From the four hundred million my dad left me, to the deal with Putin to get elected, and everything in between.  

No more bullshit, lies, fantasies, con, or deception about anything.

I'm going straight. 

“We both know I've been feeding my ignorant base bullshit since I started running in 2015. 

Forty million fools think I am legitimate. 

They live and die by my words. Me! 

The world's biggest fraud. 

The worst student in the class. 

The bottom line is I am physically afraid to be President anymore. 

“When Putin hears my confession, let alone all the others who despise me and want my scalp, I don't know how I will survive?

 

“I can't win in 2020, and I'm scared to death of ending up in jail,

 here, or maybe in Moscow after I lose. 

Or worse.” 

“Then why are you going to tell the truth now asked the Chief of Staff?”

"Because, I might have the best chance of making a deal that may keep me out of jail and keep me protected by the Secret Service. 

"I'm poison for the country, and it's worth everything to a few honest party leaders to get me out of here. My value is dropping everyday as the roof keeps

caving in. 

“If I wait until after the election, then no one will have any reason to do anything with me. 

“Now, I still have the power of this fake presidency.  

“Maybe, I'll have a pardon party. It will be the hottest ticket the world has ever seen. Only, I don't know if I'll still be able to use the pardon power if I can make deal. 

 The other crooks that have been kissing my ass always knew this whole scam was going down. The virus, unemployment, the Putin bounty on dead soldiers... look at the polls.

The game is over, Jack.

 

 “I intend to leave with dignity, no matter what the price. I hate the truth but I've got to tell it. 

I'm going out like a man.

I hate who I am. 

That changes today.  

 "I'll tell the world the story about the  bullshit border wall, about why I don't have the balls to stand up to Putin, about those pathetic immigrants, about all my bogus deals, crimes, and violations of my oath. 

  Everything.   

"I'm also going to release my tax returns and take down a lot of oligarchs.

 

 "I'm sick of the presidency. It's just a shitty job. This whole country is gonna get the virus and go broke at the same time.

“I'm going to answer every question anyone asks and I'm going to tell the truth if I know how to.”

“What about your close supporters?” said King.

“Those fools always knew they were playing a con game that I was running and the con could fold anytime. 

It did. They are all a bunch of morons for following me. Just like all my old investors who busted out believing me. 

This is all about saving myself and a few of my kids.”

“And your wife, Donald?” asked King. 

 

"Who's that?

“I'm going to meet with the top Democrats and Republicans in my office after the noon showdown and tell them what it will take for me to resign. I'll shoot for the moon but

 they will know I have no more leverage other then stretching out my resignation. 

Maybe I can use that? I'm  resigning tomorrow, deal or no deal. 

I'm out."

But, they may be so hot to get me out of the House quickly, that I might keep my pardon power.  

I'll test the waters as soon as the country comes out of shock tomorrow after my confession.”

“What if no one will play ball?” said King.

“I'm fucked.”

“My hands and body have been sweating and shaking day and night for months, Jack. you know what Walter Reed said about my health. I haven't slept well months. My stomach is dumping out Big Macs around the clock.

I cannot concentrate.

I want my daddy.”

"You're the only person I can trust, Jack.

What will I do when I'm out of here without you  protecting me?”

"Pardons for friends if you can, asked Jack?"

“What friends?

All those morons knew what they were doing grabbing onto my ass and getting a free ride. Well, as my dad used to say, “even a train stops.”

“12 noon, just like that great, old movie High Noon, with Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly.”

“The showdown.

I will finally show the world and myself that I do have balls. My dad and everyone else will know I'm a brave man. Just like Gary Cooper. That I'm not a coward.

I don't know if I can do this?”