Just seven more days and somehow we’ve gone from a hostage deal, to a 747 donation, to threats against Bruce Springsteen and now *rump as an AI rock star. Welcome back to the circus. How the hell are we supposed to survive another four years of this?
I’m sorry if this sounds like a rant, but Donald Trump is the human equivalent of an in-flight engine fire, and we’re all trapped in coach, breathing recycled air and praying someone’s still flying the plane.
He rants. He raves. He threatens Bruce Springsteen. Yes. The Boss. That’s what Trump does when someone speaks truth with integrity and guts, he throws a tantrum. I don’t know who needs to hear this but in my world you do not mess with Bruce. Bruce Springsteen has been the soundtrack of my life for over 45 years. I was listening to him before Born in the USA hit the airwaves. That voice, that grit, that honesty, it’s been with me through heartbreak, joy, hope, fear, and every hard-earned mile. And if Donald Trump thinks for a second he can scare or silence that kind of authenticity? Buddy, you couldn’t carry his mic cable.
Then there’s the 747. Not just any 747, a supposed “gift” from Qatar. A 13-year-old, barely-used Boeing 747-8, originally ordered by the Qatari royal family but never flown operationally. Now, allegedly, it’s being offered to Trump. Wrapped in crypto-scented backchannel deals, reportedly involving hostage negotiations with Hamas. If this sounds like the plot of a bad geopolitical thriller, that’s because it is, except this isn’t fiction. This is a real-life, gold-plated red flag.
I’ve spent years around planes. This? This isn’t about secure transport or public service. This is about ego. Trump wants to roll up next to Air Force One like some Bond villain-meets-Saudi influencer, just so he can say his plane is shinier. The only thing missing is a leopard-print runway and a personalized Trump jetway announcer.
And while all this chaos unfolds, Trump’s diehards are melting down over former FBI Director James Comey saying it’s time to “8-6-4-7” Trump. And now they’re screeching that 8647 is a secret code to assassinate him?
Get real. As a former restaurant owner, let me tell you what 8-6 actually means: cancel the order. Take it off the board. Maybe, if someone’s belligerent, remove them from the premises. To confirm we never really used this as it’s considered antiquated. However! That’s it. That’s all. No violence. Just you’re done here.
And yes, I want that energy. 8-6-4-7? Let’s go, folks. Cancel the chaos. Take back the menu.
Because what Trump is doing isn’t just corrupt, it’s corrosive. To democracy. To trust. To global alliances. And yes, to Canada. Every time he destabilizes the U.S., we feel the aftershocks. In trade. In defense. In diplomacy. We are not watching from a safe distance. We are strapped to the same damn fuselage.
And I swear, as I’ve said before that if one more person tells me “it’s not your country,” I might 8-6 them. (Nonviolently. Politely. Canadianly.)
So here it is: I have no patience left for those pretending this is normal.
Don’t mess with Bruce. Don’t twist restaurant lingo into a threat. And don’t expect Canadians to stay quiet while your narcissistic demagogue tries to burn down the cockpit mid-flight.
We’re not dimming the lights. We’re not buckling in quietly.
We’re 8-6ing the entire damn flight plan.
Nancy's Notes 