John Bolton is toast. Wither reality?

Well, the Twitter bug bit again. About 20 minutes ago, Trump fired his national security adviser, John Bolton via Twitter, cuz,of course he did. In his tweet, Trump explained that he advised Bolton that “his services were no longer required.” This tweet was obviously thumbed in by some other, anonymous moron in the Comms shop, since if His Lowness had done it himself, it would have read “And so I shit canned his sorry ass.”

Now, you all know my deep disgust and revulsion with John Bolton, yet another of the endless bumper crop of chickenshit hawks that the GOP keeps pulling up out of the patch, more than happy to pontificate sonorously while other peoples sons and daughters are shipped off to die. That being said, I’m not doing my victory dance at the news, and treating myself to a large pepperoni, with extra cheese. Because I’m too scared shitless.

Since day one of the national nightmare that is the Trump administration, our only solace was that there were “adults in the room,” who would act as :guardrails” against Trump’s more insane ideas. H.R. McMaster, John Kelly, Mad Dog Jim Mattis, Dan Coats, all had real world international diplomacy experience, grounded in reality. Even Trump’s Secretary of State pick, Rex Tillerson, had extensive international experience. All of them swept aside by the endless rising tide of Trump stupidity. And all for the same reason, because they restrained him.

And now, Bolton. You can say what you like about John Bolton, and all of it should be bad, but you have to say one thing. At least John Bolton had experience, both political and geo political, that was grounded in reality. He may well have been a real tough son of a bitch when somebody else’s blood was on the line, but at least he understood the concepts. Apparently, Bolton’s final mortal sin was in insisting that having the leader of the Taliban at Camp David in the week leading up to 9/11 was a nightmare scenario that would bury Trump in the optics alone. Trump doesn’t like it when his toys are taken away.

But now what? Well, lets just take a quick look at Trump’s high quality replacements for previous “adults in the room.” He has a chief of staff whose basic thought process is “Let Trump be Trump, I’m just an ‘acting’ COS, so I can always take a hike if the shit gets too hairy.” He’ll install a toadying, sycophantic Director of National Intelligence who will cherry pick intel that Trump wants to hear, and not the reality on the ground. His new Secretary of Defense is so independent that he just stole $3.6 billion from his own wallet to give to the mugger to build a wall around his own house. And he has a Secretary of State who is such an incompetent dumb fuck that he actually thought that it was a great idea for Dumblefork to cross an invisible line into North Korea, while the pie faced clown in the stove pipe pants laughed his ass off at Trump for doing it.

In his “Get the fuck outta here” tweet firing Bolton, Trump promised to name a replacement sometime next week. Personally, I’d be perfectly happy to see the stock market do a header from the top of the Sears Tower, and have Trump forget the whole damn thing. Because just thinking about it makes my stomach churn.

Because whoever it is, it isn’t going to be good news for the country. Trump is going to pick another brainless, ass kissing boot licker, one who will whisper whatever sweet nothings Trump wants to hear into his ear, while he polishes off another 12 piece bucket. We have now entered, or are about to enter, a very dangerous place as a nation, where the reality of the dangers the nation actually faces are replaced by the fantasy reality that Trump has crafted for himself, and which the people tasked with disabusing him of those fantasies, will only reinforce them instead.

So, no, I will mourn not the loss of the professional passing of John Bolton. Let the silly old shit go back to where he can only spout his ignorant nonsense to people who can’t affect anything. But as much as the thought makes me want to hurl, I strongly suspect that I’m actually going to miss the silly old bastard six months from now.