Back July 25, 2026

At first, I had no idea what I was watching . . .

. . . then it dawned on me. Aha, the National Press Club Annual Roast!… 

Did you happen to tune into this event last night? I certainly didn’t mean to, but then I found myself mesmerized, while lying on my side with my ipad, watching Trump, live, speak to an audience in a gold-plated, chandeliered White House room.

(I was pissed. My fascination was robbing me of needed sleep!)

In case you want to watch it now:

https://x.com/aureliusstoic1/status/2080857299711590770?s=61&t=aUBDiSUrvn0aSlRBtZx0wQ

 

At first I was puzzled, shocked. Both at the snide, sly, dismissive attitude of his remarks (though Trump’s the king of shock, and does so regularly), and at the weirdness of the audience reaction, or lack of reaction, to many of his remarks meant as jokes. He would subtly note that they did not laugh, or clap, and then just shrug his shoulders and plough on.

During the longish, obviously off-the-cuff speech, where he let loose with whatever, over and over againto the audience of beautifully coiffed, manicured, and dressed young women with their men at dinner tables, over and over again craning their necks to seek each other’s eyes, embarrassed, stunned, in one way or another. Their men more stalwart, no expression, some of them rudely on their iphones.

Then, I realized, aha, this is . . . They had tried to stage this annual event earlier, at another venue, only to experience another likely (white hat? black hat?) psy-op “with lone shooter”? — muffled shots fired backstage?, with Trump rushed off the stage, and the audience ducking or scattering. Remember that one?

During the remarks that followed his own last night, Trump was seated onstage next to Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt, her motherly attitude consoling him for what he knew he needed to do, and doing it; deliberately agreeing to serve as target of their endless hostility, his sacrifice includes even welcoming in the usual, boring, endless TDS.

More and more, to me, Trump looks exhausted by the role he has courageously agreed to play, taking all the heat as the deep state is oh so gradually being exposed and ultimately dismantled.

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”And you? My teacher looked up, his left eyebrow arched, pencil poised. 'I want to do a paper on the concept of time.’” I mumbled, timidly. 'Time?' He sniffed. “I wouldn’t touch the subject. Too difficult.” — AK, 1967
Ann Kreilkamp

Ann Kreilkamp

Ph.D. 83

Astrologer, published author, conference presenter, world traveler, founder & editor of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging (1989-2001) , and founding visionary of Green Acres Permaculture Village (2010 to present).