Donald Trump's Gay Fascist Kleptocracy

Just asking the question: Is it unreasonable to wonder if Trump's ear is all Thiel has?

Don’t look now, but Donald Trump surrounds himself whenever possible with ultra-macho characters, with Hulk Hogan, for God’s sake, with bikers and cops and tattoo-covered “patriots”.

Doth not the lady protest too much?

I was born, through no fault of my own, in the spring of 1947. If I was told once over the course of my early life I was told a thousand times that if I craved the companionship of predatory male homosexuals, where I wanted to head was the YMCA. I can’t imagine that Donald G. Trump didn’t hear the same thing. I feel strongly that, in playing the Village People’s 1978 hit song, whose “hidden” meaning only an imbecile would fail to discern, he’s trying to tell us something likely to foment wholesale anguish in the I-don’t-have-a-gay-bone-in-my-body-and-in-fact-hate-faggots sector of the MAGA community.

Could it be more obvious that it isn’t a fascist kleptocracy into which Mr. Trump’s intent on turning the USA, but a gay fascist kleptocracy?

As an up and coming (make of that what you will!) real estate developer in the early ‘70s, when he was soft-spoken, fluffy-haired, and sort of…dewy, Trump was very tight with the closeted gay homophobe Roy Cohn, who didn’t just secure huge tax abatement deals for Trump Tower, but also introduced his dewy young protege to nightclub owners, media hotshots, and underworld figures, and took him to night clubs popular with (and in many cases because of) gay men. Is it inconceivable — I’m just asking the question here! — that some of these gay men were so handsome, so fastidiously moisturized, so charismatic and charming as to make our future president think, “You know, why the heck not”?

Later, Mr. Trump married the immoderately sexy Marla Maples, exactly the sort of stereotypically hot blonde a man trying to conceal his erotic ambivalence would pursue. Coincidence? I suspect not! Then he had what would become a well-publicized assignation with the adult film star Stormi (the correct spelling!) Daniels. Again, who would think to question the non-negotiable heterosexuality of a man who, uh, dates an adult film star?

And golf! Aside from hunting, is there a recreation that shouts, “Straight!” more loudly than golf, a “sport” that to date has produced a grand total of no “out” gay males.

In 2016, Lindsey Graham, the senator from South Carolina who, in his mid-60s, Just Hasn’t Met the Right Gal Yet, denounced Mr. Trump as a jackass, a race-baiting bigot, and the most flawed nominee in the history of the Republican party — a party, mind you, that had earlier given us Dick Nixon and Ronald fucking Reagan.

What, we would be derelict to fail to wonder, had changed Sen. Graham’s mind? Was it Mr. Trump demonstrating the vastness of his intellect, his prescience? Or was it — I’m just asking the question here! — the thrill of his embrace, the ecstasy of his luminous orange skin against Lindsey’s own, standard Caucasian skin, the melody of the future president’s soft voice in Lindsey’s ear? His tenderness and his…unusual shape, as per Daniels? Oh, those too! Oh, God, yes!

Behold our president-to-be-again’s football hero fetish, his…fascination with Tom Brady, with Herschel Walker, with prospective Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Scott Turner, and especially with his own Scott Thorson, former Connecticut Huskies third-string quarterback John McEntee, who, in 2024, was accused of sending inappropriate and sexually explicit messages to young women, including teenagers, through social media and his own Peter Thiel-bankrolled app,The Right Stuff. Over-compensation, thy name is McEntee!

Thiel, who’s gay, is known to have Mr. Trump’s ear. Is it unreasonable to wonder if his ear is all he has? And speaking of over-compensation, Elon Musk is the father of 12 children, some of whom are thought not to detest him.

Just asking the question!