Weekly Private Reality Check

Each week, you’ll get this special 20 min deep dig audio analysis that explains the mechanisms at play. It’s your Reality Check. Everybody is reporting "What" is happening. It's the "Why" that gives us the keys to the car of survival navigation. When you know the plot of the play, you can predict the methods to get there and hopefully avoid the worst of it. I hope you will join others and consider becoming a paid member. I thank you!

Let’s not pretend anymore. The emperor’s not just naked—he’s tweeting from the tub, spying on the neighbors, and demanding you clap louder for the parade.

Donald John Trump, former president, aspiring autocrat, and full-time golf messiah, has now declared himself Pope. Yes, Pope. That’s right. Forget white smoke from the Sistine Chapel. We’ve got vape clouds from Palm Beach. The College of Cardinals has been replaced by a rotating cast of indicted advisors and online influencers selling supplements that may or may not contain powdered rosaries.

And Trump? He’s traded in the traditional Papal Bull for a Twitter knockoff where every post is an encyclical of ego.

Let’s break it down.

He’s crowned himself Pope Don the First, Bishop of Bedminster, Guardian of the Golden Elevator, Holy Father of the Five-Year Tax Audit.

His first acts?

* Replacing holy water with Diet Coke.

* Granting sainthood to Sean Hannity.

* Declaring that the only true path to salvation is through a recurring monthly donation—credit cards accepted, no refunds.

He’s reimagined the Seven Deadly Sins.Now they are:

* Being woke

* Paying taxes

* Reading

* Mask mandates

* Being Mexican

* Being indicted

* And worst of all—fact-checking.

He’s already redesigned the Papal regalia.Gone are the humble robes.Now it’s all gold lamé with rhinestones, a red tie to the floor, and a mitre shaped like a MAGA hat.

The PapaMagamobile?It’s a golf cart—bulletproof, of course—with a trunk full of subpoenas and classified documents.

His first pilgrimage?Not to Jerusalem. Not even to Rome.But to a Waffle House in Georgia, where he laid hands on a sausage patty and declared it “a miracle of American greatness.”

Now look—satire aside, this isn’t just ego run amok.This is theology weaponized.This is nationalism dressed in clerical robes.It’s the American culture war turned full-blown religious cosplay.

You see, Trump doesn’t just want to rule.He wants to be worshipped.And millions are obliging.

You’ve got crowds chanting his name like liturgy.You’ve got pastors calling him the second coming of Christ—apparently, this time, He’s got a plane and an NFT collection.

You laugh, but this is political messianism—textbook stuff.He’s building a Church, not a campaign.And the only sin... is disloyalty.

His gospel is grievance.His parables are conspiracy threads.His sacraments?Forgiveness, but only if you kiss the ring and plead not guilty on his behalf.

The line between faith and fandom is gone.He’s turned political identity into spiritual identity.And in that holy confusion—anything goes.

And if you're wondering, yes: the Supreme Court is already considering whether divine infallibility applies retroactively to hush money payments.

But behind the holy theatrics is a darker truth.This is a man who’s fused nationalism with theology, wrapped it in branding, and sold it to a people desperate for certainty.

The danger isn’t in the blasphemy.It’s in the obedience.When a democracy starts bowing instead of voting—you don’t get a Pope.You get a god-king.And that never ends well.

So, as Pope Don the First blesses us from his gilded balcony in South Florida...As he canonizes the indicted and casts out the journalistic...Ask yourself:Are you laughing at the joke?Or living insi