strange night emissions for POTUS and Company …. Trump’s word is as real as the lie that is America.
Jan 06, 2026
TOO late, brothers and sisters in Portland!
I had to dump some catharsis, man, as I see in some of my Substack emails more and more weird, repetitive, valueless, off-the-mark prognostication about Venezuela. It gets dirty when Jeffrey Piece of Sachs has his 50 minutes on a Zoom interview. Oh, the Poison Ivy JEW, he will fill us in!
Then the fucking retrograde local community Fuck You Book forums tell us more than what Max or Katie or Aaron or Danny or Lee Camp want to believe about fellow Americans, MAGA or Mamdani.
Drop Site News is good, but not pure community ground-truthers. This Venezuelan Netflix show for Cheetos-stained Donny is just more stress positioning the world will be undergoing.
We’ve failed, as Americans, those Gazafication Stress tests, but a failed stress test is a passed test for Ellison and Glosser-Miller and all the other Neuroperverse ones pulling and gliding our collective psychological strings.
There just aren’t tough tough words for Rubio or Hegseth or all the millions in mercenary uniforms. Just “awesome” and “well-executed” and “flawless” and “boy just like a Matt Damon movie.”
Here, then, from: Poem for Venezuela Upon the Kidnapping of Its President by the United States of America
Truth & Balance
“When dancing jesters are a million billion times more noble than men who would be king.”
This is the ugliness of empire.
This is Artaud’s theatre of cruelty.
This is the lunacy of a lunatic before he succumbs to madness.
This is Ted Bundy on his final killing spree.
This is Colonel Kurtz obtruding from the shadows to speak the truth of darkness – the ‘the horror, the horror’.
This is the negation of the negation of the negation – particularist order pretending to be universal order collapses to become universal disorder.
This is when the rulemakers are the rulebreakers.
This is when words do not condemn criminals for their crimes but wash away sins and make angels of devils.
This is when words don’t let truth grow, but bury it ten feet below.
This is when blessings are curses.
This is the monster that lives under your bed and is as real as the day is long.
This is when you start to grow up and realise life is more putrid and horrifying than you ever could have realised.
This is a time to learn lessons and never ever forget.
This is a time to come together to push back.
This is a time for strength and solidarity.
This is a time when we need to remember we’re stronger together, we’re better together, and together as one is the one way we always beat them.
This is a time to stand up and be counted, or fall in yourself as a creature failing to be what it could have been.
This is when the masses know their ten times tables, but the lords tell us 2 x 2 = 3.
This is when a dancing jester is a million billion times more noble than the man who would be king.
+—+
Nah, I’ll take more Raymond Nat Turner type poetics, so I cranked out this on a couple of hours sleep and dos Tylenols.
Here’s my poem, man, not Walt Whitman, but . . . .
Monsters of the Coco Puffs President
small-brained German Boy
New York Swindler
educated by Roy of the Cosa Nostra
he screams out at night
brown is black, black is yellow
he sneezes Cheetos dust
calls his Talmudist daughter
late at night
reaffirms his pussy grabber attraction
these killers aren’t POTUS
think suited men in suites
oil men, same old cattlebarons
kill the Indian to get railroad freedom
these are data monsters, money makers
Ellison Fink Karp Altman Ackman Schwartzman
name your poison in the 130 billionaire
mitzvah klan, and you will see
not a tough Donny thinking it’s
TV he’s watching while drugged out
Delta Force make their leap
murdering Cuban heroes
defenders, 60 more innocents
blown to hell, as Americans
both sides of the manure aisle
all sections of the Neuroparanoid
American public believe
Edward Bernays rhetorical cuts
“awesome” “brave” “flawless”
this is how a country set on
Indian graves sees itself
not so much a fat fake like
POTUS Trump, but even generations
later slave descendants believe
killing and Apache helicopters
with Hellfire “precision”
is presidential
there is no redemption for
Americans, passive, patriotic, paranoid
Latinx will run to Netflix room
for more of the Army-CIA Equilizer
lies, watch Denzel Jujutsu
Arnold “the sex assaulter” Swartznegger
dead in the delivery room
Americans, broken now as
room temp IQ Donny
plans with WWF styled bitch
new k12 rules, constrictions
as Juanita and little Johnny
will comply, collapse, collude, connive
it’s never been a grand old flag
38 dead in Minnesota
Uncle Abe murdering maniac
of Lakota, Mankato
now the Mall of America
this is PT Barnum’s way
snake oil Ellison and Zuckerberg
freak Lucky Palmer
they have night emissions dreaming drones
swarms of EMFs gobbling up data
this is Donny, this is Venezuela
the next and next and next
stress test, Crash Test Dummy
Yanqui Go Home
Gazafication of Americas
and Galeano wrote
The Nobodies about peasants
yet even middle-class
Beaver family are wretched
of the earth
as the Talmudists plan
financial spiritual intellectual
cultural physical philosophical
psychological control
just stay happy, great AI with
orgasmic glee, stand for flyovers
at Super Bowl 666
so the boy with no brain
he’s Being There, tools
at fingertips, sychophants
encouraging, the worst
of the worst Glosser-Miller
Rubio Cap’n Crunch Pete
all of them poking him
every which way as
Kushner and Jewish gang
work their magic with Bibi
ain’t no Fidel Che Bolivar
Sandinisatas no more
just steroid boys
from USA on Wheaties boxes
our POTUS preferring
smack crackle pop
with his Coco Puffs
+—+
America is neither free nor brave, but a land of tight, iron-clanking little wills, everybody trying to put it over everybody else, and a land of men absolutely devoid of the real courage of trust, trust in life’s sacred spontaneity. They can’t trust life until they can control it.
All those little fucking white men, and the big chested cunts, bellies and RVs, walking like in a parade at Costco, waiting for summer hotrod rallies, they know, don’t they, they know what’s good for everyone else on planet earth.
Heroes, motherfucker Americans:
Cilia Flores is not a ceremonial figure. Long before being labeled “First Lady,” she was a central political actor in her own right. A lawyer by training, Flores served as president of the National Assembly and was among the most visible institutional defenders of the Bolivarian process during periods of intense opposition pressure. She played a key role in maintaining legislative continuity after the 2002 coup attempt against Hugo Chávez and later served as attorney general and a senior party leader within the United Socialist Party of Venezuela.
Flores herself has long rejected the title of “First Lady,” a term rooted in elite protocol rather than political struggle. She has instead described her role as that of the “First Revolutionary Combatant,” emphasizing that her place within the Bolivarian process is not symbolic but active. The formulation reflects how she understands her position — as a participant in a collective political project, not an adjunct to presidential power.
Her inclusion in U.S. indictments and her seizure alongside Maduro underscore the political character of the operation. Flores has been targeted not because of any proven criminal activity, but because she represents the civilian, institutional backbone of the Bolivarian state — a woman leader with her own base, record, and authority. Her kidnapping was meant to decapitate not only the presidency, but the broader political leadership that has resisted U.S. intervention for more than two decades.
Kidnapping, and now this woman, a CIA asset, sworn in?
To understand why Washington seized Nicolás Maduro, it is necessary to understand who he is — and what the Bolivarian leadership he represents has meant for Venezuela.
From bus driver to Bolivarian leader
Maduro did not come from Venezuela’s traditional political elite. He began his political life as a bus driver in Caracas and a trade union organizer in the city’s transport system. In the 1980s, he helped form an unofficial union for Metro workers, an experience that grounded his politics in the daily struggles of working people rather than in electoral maneuvering or elite sponsorship.
This background mattered. When Hugo Chávez burst onto the national stage in the late 1990s, he drew strength from militants, organizers, and rank-and-file workers who understood the limits of Venezuela’s old political order. Maduro was part of that layer. His rise within the Bolivarian movement was not accidental, nor was it based on personal charisma alone. It reflected years of organizational work, party discipline, and political loyalty during periods of intense pressure.
Maduro was elected to the National Assembly in 2000 and later served as its president. He went on to become foreign minister, where he played a central role in building alliances against U.S. domination, particularly through regional integration projects and closer ties with Cuba and other countries resisting Washington’s dictates. In 2012, Chávez appointed him vice president and publicly identified him as his political successor.
Chosen successor amid mounting pressure
When Chávez died in March 2013, Maduro stepped into leadership during a moment of profound uncertainty. The special presidential election that followed was closely contested, but Maduro won. His opponent, Henrique Capriles Radonski, came from one of Venezuela’s wealthiest families and was backed openly by domestic capital and the U.S. government. The election result was never accepted by Washington, which had already begun treating Maduro’s presidency as illegitimate from its first day.
When sanctions and diplomatic pressure failed to break the Venezuelan state over the following years, Washington shifted tactics. The invasion was justified after the fact through sweeping legal claims and executive assertions that recast regime change as law enforcement rather than war.
Trump’s claim that Venezuela “stole” oil and land from the United States is completely unfounded. Venezuela nationalized its oil industry in the mid-1970s, long before Chávez or Maduro came to power, as an assertion of national sovereignty later expanded under the Bolivarian process. U.S. companies were compensated at the time, and no serious legal body has ever recognized U.S. ownership of Venezuela’s natural resources. These assertions functioned not as evidence, but as ideological cover.
Do you think when Trump’s rotting carcass shambles from the scene that Democrats will return US plundered oil loot to the Venezuelan people? The belief would display a mind-annihilating case of toxic innocence. Remember, Obama’s deployment of ISIS head-chopping jihadists to coup and kill Libya’s leader Muammar Gaddafi and smash and grab and abscond with the nation’s oil wealth and gold reserves — a war crime that rendered the once richest nation in Africa a failed state where slaves are sold on the open market.
This is the modus operandi of empire. Withal, believing voting can reform a military empire/economic imperium is like a squid applying for a job in a sushi restaurant “to change the system from within.” —- The (Over)Reach Of Gangster Imperium, from Venezuela to Gaza
Paul Haeder, Author 