All Hail the Chicken-in-Chief

The nickname "President Taco" was coined by Financial Times columnist Robert Armstrong in May 2025 to describe President Donald Trump's approach to trade tariffs. The acronym "TACO" stands for "Trump Always Chickens Out," reflecting the perception that Trump frequently announces aggressive tariff policies only to backtrack when market reactions become unfavorable. This term gained widespread attention after a White House press conference on May 28, 2025, where Trump reacted negatively to a question about the "TACO trade," further fueling the media's use of the nickname.

We’ve suffered through nearly a decade of Donald Trump’s petty, childish name-calling — cheap shots his base laughs at, but that only reveal his weakness. I don’t find it funny; I find it pathetic and corrosive. So here’s to you, Mr. President TACO. You’ve earned that nickname, and I hope it sticks like glue

"Crooked Hillary" – Hillary Clinton
" Lyin' Ted" – Ted Cruz
" Pocahontas" – Elizabeth Warren
" Crazy Nancy" – Nancy Pelosi
" Sour Lemon" – Don Lemon
" Rocket Man" – Kim Jong-un
" Ron DeSanctimonious" – Ron DeSantis

If God Exists, He Lives Where Physics Ends

An all-powerful God wouldn’t fit inside our universe’s math. If He’s real, He operates beyond dimensions we can perceive—where time, space, and causality break down. Think Q from Star Trek: a being so advanced, His actions seem like magic to limited minds.

Science admits its own limits—inside black holes, at the Big Bang, or in the 11th dimension of string theory - our math fails. That’s exactly where a divine being would reside: outside our comprehension, in realms where "laws of physics" are irrelevant.

The Bible calls God "unseeable" (John 1:18) and "unapproachable" (1 Timothy 6:16)—not out of modesty, but because Bronze Age writers, whose greatest tech was the wheel were grasping at something beyond their understanding. Their texts? Just repackaged Mesopotamian myths, scribbled by people who thought lightning was divine wrath.

Does that mean God can’t exist? No. But if He does, He’s laughing at us from a dimension where our science is still cave paintings.

Faith vs. Fanaticism

Faith is trust without proof—and I have faith in physicists. Not because I understand quantum math, but because their credibility depends on facts, not fairy tales. Their equations must survive peer review, not pep rallies.

But elsewhere, faith mutates into something darker: 2+2=3 if the leader says so.

Science, math, and objective reality crumble before the real power: cult-like devotion. The sheep don’t care if the numbers add up—they care that their shepherd said it. Facts are now heresy; dissent is blasphemy. And when the flock marches blindly into the abyss, they’ll insist the abyss was their idea all along.

The lesson? Authoritarianism doesn’t need logic—just a mob that’s stopped asking questions.

Psittacism is the mechanical repetition of words without thought—like a parrot squawking phrases it doesn’t understand, or a cult chanting dogma it never questions. It’s the mindless echo of slogans divorced from meaning, where language becomes ritual, not reason.

Now observe the MAGA movement: a case study in mass psittacism. "Lock her up!"—a demand without due process. "Stop the steal!"—a lie without evidence. "Build the wall!"—a solution without a problem. The phrases are hurled like sacred incantations, their truth irrelevant next to their tribal utility. The faithful don’t analyze; they recite. They don’t debate; they repeat.

This isn’t politics—it’s operant conditioning. The leader tosses out trigger-words, and the flock mimics them with Pavlovian precision. Dissenters aren’t countered with arguments; they’re drowned out by the cacophony of programmed responses.

The parrot doesn’t know why it speaks. The cult doesn’t care if it’s wrong. And the movement? It thrives not on ideas, but on the addiction to belonging.