Cake eaters are plentiful in the White House. Today was an exceptional display of the sheer audacity of how out of touch they are with real people. Howard Lutnick spoke during a Cabinet Meeting about how he had people coming up to him at dinner telling him that they wanted to buy $5 million golden visas.

I am truly astounded with the chutzpa of these people. It’s both exhausting and disgusting.

Listen to Marie and Howard above.

Good morning friends.

I’ve got one burning question clawing at my brain: WHY? Why the hell is that orange buffoon shoving these Trump tariffs down our throats?

I mean, what’s the point? I’d wager my last dollar that bloated conman’s just itching to skim some of that sweet tariff cash for himself—probably dreaming of forcing foreign leaders to crash at his flea-infested hotels, buy his laughable meme coins (what even are those, Don?), or let his dimwit sons plop another gaudy Trump Tower in some unsuspecting country. Classic grift, right out of his greasy playbook.

Look, it’s not like America’s strapped for cash—I can practically hear the printing presses whirring, and debt? Pfft, we’ve got that in spades. We’re not at war, desperately scrambling to fund a defense against invading hordes. There’s no shiny infrastructure plan—no schools, no airports, no roads, nothing to pretend he gives a damn about the little guy. And don’t get me started on taxes—poor folks, seniors, vets, teachers, first responders? Still screwed, no relief in sight.

So why now? Why’s this spray-tanned tyrant hellbent on jacking up prices for us and kicking poorer countries while they’re down? I haven’t heard one decent excuse that doesn’t boil down to him strutting around like some dictator-wannabe, cackling as he makes everyone else miserable just to prove he’s the big dog. Pathetic.

I’d bet you a coffee—or hell, a beer—that deep in that shriveled husk he calls a heart, he thinks he deserves a cut of this tariff haul.

He’ll strong-arm some foreign schmuck into booking a moldy suite at Mar-a-Lago, casually drop, “Hey, buy my shitty meme coins, pal,” and then nudge Don Jr. or Eric—those walking haircuts—to sweet-talk a dictator into bankrolling a tacky gold-plated tower somewhere.

Trust me, this ain’t about you, me, or dear old Grandma. This is the Trump grift to end all grifts, and that greedy clown’s licking his chops to cash in.

What do you think?

DBW