[ Editorial ] Operation Epic Slurry
Trump and America have never seemed so umighty. Hence the importance of earnestly maintaining the illusion of might.
The primaries are barreling down on us, and Donald Trump’s track record is nothing short of a flaming dumpster fire. He’s botched just about everything—except maybe free speech, but let’s not kid ourselves; he gets zero props for that. It’s just dusting off a dusty old constitutional right after 15 years of unhinged “progressive” madness.
Oh, and let’s pile on, shall we?
Domestically, it’s one humiliating face-plant after another, with the latest gut-punch courtesy of the Supreme Court: those slapdash tariffs Trump slapped on everything? Illegal. Turns out, the big man doesn’t have the chops to play taxman—that power’s locked up in Congress, especially the House, which calls the shots on the budget, revenue included.
Six out of nine justices slapped him down, ruling those tariffs are just sneaky taxes hammering everyday Americans, and no, Mr. President, you can’t hide behind your so-called emergency powers this time.
Now, let’s dive into the polls—the ones our diligent colleagues at RealClearPolitics crunch with grim precision. They paint the big picture, and it’s ugly: historically, most Americans have given Trump’s antics a resounding thumbs-down, and who can blame them?
That stunning 2024 political resurrection of his? Fueled by the raw, seething loathing for the Democratic Party. y February 14, 2025—just a month into his second stint—the public mood flipped like a pancake, never to recover. And why wouldn’t it? Trump made it his mission to meticulously stab every single of his campaign promise in the back.
Fast-forward to today, and it’s a pipe dream for the Republicans to cling to the House after next fall’s midterms. Hell, even the Senate could flip blue, as a chorus of GOP electoral wonks are grudgingly admitting through gritted teeth.
As always happens every time a U.S. president hits rock bottom domestically over the past forty years—bam! Time for a little war, preferably on behalf of that mid-eastern client speck called Israel, because some of its dual-citizen fat cats bankrolled his campaign. But Americans aren’t swallowing it anymore: a whopping 80% are up in arms against this utterly illegal meddling in Iran, since only Congress gets to greenlight the use of military force.
What the Trump crew is desperately peddling as “strength” is just the confession of their own impotence. If the United States were so almighty, they’d have bent Iran to their will ages ago. Instead, for 47 years, the Iranian “regime” hasn’t once knelt, and the U.S. has racked up nothing but humiliating losses in every war they’ve bungled.
Trump’s lame excuses for bombing Iran? They’re falling flat. The vast majority of Americans see right through it: this isn’t about defending U.S. interests—it’s all about kissing up to Israel.
Then there’s Veep JD Vance, embarrassing himself into oblivion by bleating that he’s got “proof”—eight months after Trump bragged about obliterating it all in that idiotic “Midnight Putter” operation—that Iran has rebuilt its nuclear enrichment capabilities. The Trump admin is so scraped-to-the-bone desperate they couldn’t even rustle up a prop vial, like the one Colin Powell waved around at the UN Security Council in 2003 to sell the Iraq debacle.
But hey, isn’t Vance the guy who threw a fundraiser for his Senate run at Les Wexner’s pad—the billionaire neck-deep in the Epstein slime?
Ah, the Epstein scandal! It snares a slew of Trump cronies—his son-in-law Jared Kushner, Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick. Not even World War III will scrub this stain from the public eye, because it’s the ultimate symbol of a full-blown regime crisis.
We all know how it will unfold: the new Democratic House will kick off impeachment proceedings, and Trump will be left bellowing on Truth Social from the Oval Office bunker, just like in 2018. Except this time, he’s the architect of his own downfall, torpedoing his presidency by refusing to tell his big-money donors—who couldn’t care less about America’s interests—to pound sand.
The mainstream media are all chiming in unison like a well-rehearsed choir: the Iranian “regime” has been decapitated, headlines screaming triumphantly. How quaint. Persia—civilization ancient when ours was still scribbling in caves—has never hinged on the survival of one solitary man, except during those brief, puppet-show interludes under the Pahlavi dynasty, propped up first by the Brits and then by Uncle Sam himself.
Yet here we are, with the talking heads pretending the Supreme Guide was some all-powerful dictator whose demise spells instant collapse. Newsflash: the Supreme Leader isn’t even the head of state in the conventional sense. He’s the moral and religious authority —weighty, yes, but his political grip isn’t absolute; the system has layers, checks, and a deep bench of clerics and institutions built to endure.
Trump’s brilliant masterstroke? Turning him into a martyr. Because nothing screams “strategic genius” like handing the Shia world its latest sacred icon on a silver platter. Shiism isn’t just a sect—it’s a 1,400-year saga soaked in martyrdom, from Karbala onward. The faith thrives on it, rallies around it, weaponizes it. Killing the Guide doesn’t shatter the regime; it supercharges the narrative, galvanizes the faithful, and ensures the resistance hardens like concrete.
The USA and Israel cheerleaders can crow about “regime change” all they want, but history’s lesson is brutal and clear: you don’t topple Persia by bombing one ayatollah. You just light a fuse that burns for generations. Bravo, Donald—another masterclass in turning weakness into a self-inflicted wound.
And the fallout? The Strait of Hormuz is slammed shut, and Iran has hammered the U.S. naval base in Bahrain—that pint-sized island where over two-thirds of the population is Shia, mind you—rendering it a useless hunk of concrete. So, where exactly are those vaunted American warships supposed to gas up and reload? Diego Garcia? Good luck with that logistical nightmare in the middle of nowhere.
Come Monday’s market open, Brent crude is poised to spike to $80 a barrel, shoving the price of a gallon over three bucks in no time flat across the U.S. If this mess drags on—and why wouldn’t it?—we’re staring down the same barrel as the Ukraine war kickoff: Brent soaring past $100. American purchasing power? Crushed into oblivion, just in time for those midterm elections. Perfect timing, Donnie.
In short, this isn’t even a Pyrrhic victory yet—it’s a preordained debacle, especially since the Iranians don’t have pesky midterms looming in November. They’ve got all the time in the world. All it takes is one devastating haymaker—like crippling or sinking a U.S. aircraft carrier—and the American public will howl for Trump’s head on a pike.
Hell, the skyrocketing pump prices might do the trick all by themselves.
Over in Washington, they’ve conveniently memory-holed the fact that for over 20 years, ragtag Afghan insurgents (Persians in flip-flops, no less) armed with nothing but AK-47s held the mighty U.S. military and its NATO lapdogs at bay. How’s that for a history lesson they refuse to learn?