The smouldering remains of the USA’s second city and the capital of world film-making now serve as the funeral pyre for the regime of the worst president in American history. Put together the three most dismissive rhyming adjectives in the English language – callow, shallow, and fallow – then add perhaps the most dangerous – megalomaniac – and you spell B-I-D-E-N. This talentless soul – questing yet cowardly, ambitious but abject, driven but goalless – wanted but one thing: power. Whatever agenda he incorporated into his career was no more than a lure for followers. Where other people had beliefs, he had the flaccid lust of a eunuch in a harem. To Biden, “ideal” was what a casino croupier declares before distributing cards in a poker-game.
He first ran for President in 1987, aged 46. He then spent three point three decades yearning to be the world’s most powerful man, able with the turn of a key to smelt Moscow into a mirror. Biden was moreover truly the father of his perpetually delinquent and unforgiveable son, Hunter, upon whose wretched brow he waved the magic wand of a presidential pardon as one of his final yet defining deeds in office.
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