Tuesday, 4 July 2023

The True meaning of Christmas, somebody was reading these so I'm. sharing again

 These stories are about LOVE

a Polish/Ukrainian and Russian first cousins

written a few years ago BEFORE Putin went Insane

So enjoy them and pray the Rosary that

Putin is Removed just in time for TEA

And Singapore you must love me

AS you are now my Number 3 Lover

you have surpassed UK

just Poland and USA in front of you

So a Big Thank You

Singapore Ladies

though you could be a Sumo size bloke

how do I know If there is no email

michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

If you want to tell me




Thursday, 24 December 2020

As it is Xmas Eve here's a story or maybe two with Santa in it, old stories

  As it is Xmas Eve here's a story or maybe two with Santa in it, old stories

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Save Christmas ©

By

Michael Casey

The cousins had decided to buy and trade a few old Army Surplus materials. Putin has updated his army so there was a lot of old kit being thrown away. So obviously the enterprising cousins decided this was their chance. There were all kinds of everything for sale at rock bottom prices, such as Arctic gear, and even parachutes and an ancient flame thrower or two. Junk to you or me, but to the cousins it was an opportunity.

Sometime what is discarded becomes the most important thing, like a broken heart healed by love, or the dream of a dead mother on the feast of Saint Francis, that comes to heal and strengthen. But I’m talking about the Slav cousins, and their wives just laughed at them, they were just so stupid, but that made them love them the more. So as the wives sharpened their knives ready for the Christmas preparations, which meant death for some of the animals, but it for good purpose, to celebrate the feast of Christmas.

Amongst the junk was an old military radio or two, so the cousins’ children were allowed to play with one. To their surprise they were able to contact some other children, so soon there was a radio friendship. It turned out that they had discovered School 76 in Novablizt, which was a fair distance from where they all lived. It was a boarding school for children of army officers, really they should not be talking to outsiders. But it was a military frequency on an old channel, so that’s how the wall came down.

As Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rummaged through their treasure their children were enjoying the radio. It turned out that the parents of School 76 were in reality Space Engineers, they would not say more than that, but it was interesting to say the least. Now Christmas was approaching fast and the cousins had managed to sell boots and coats and the like, so they were content, they had at least made some money. There was the Christmas feast on the horizon and their wives were glowing, happy and so deeply in love. However when all the cousins’ children explained all the anticipated fun and love that they would have to the children of School 76 they were met with sadness.

You see at School 76 the parents would be working far away, launching satellites into space for the highest bidder. Christmas was lost to them, duty came first, if only they got to see a fake Santa, it would be fun amongst all the books. Now Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were saddened when they heard this, Christmas without even a fake Saint Nicolas, this was too much.

Their wives looked at them and all the children looked at them. We need to talk to your fathers said the three mothers. So the three mothers took the three cousins to the 3 bedrooms. It is always best to discuss things in a comfortable environment. 6 hours later, the mothers emerged smiling, and the cousins emerged too. It had been decided, the 3 mothers would sacrifice their 3 cousin husbands for Christmas. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would bring Christmas to School 76.

Now School 76 is not on any map as it was classed as Military even though it was just a boarding school. So a map reference was sent and Lech marked it on a map with Rudolf’s nose, that was all the map they would need. They loaded their snow plough with items they might need, and what could they bring the students? Boiled eggs painted and some English chocolate, Cadburys of course, and some Oranges. There was some vodka too, but that was for any stray teachers or caretakers. It was the thought that counted, there would not be any other gifts as such, or so was the plan. You see the school was in a remote area and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi may have to walk in the last leg.

When School 76 heard the news they erupted. They would not only get one fake Santa but three. Carols erupted from School 76, but the could not tell the teachers, the caretaker staff as it was still technically called a Military establishment. So with a final kiss to their wives, who were probably pregnant by now, what do you think they were doing for 6 hours, knitting? So Lech, Boris and Gregorgi set off to bring Christmas to School 76. As they dove away a fancy 4x4 passed in the opposite direction, paths had been crossed.

In the 4x4 was Mikhail Mikhailovich who you will remember was the Spaceman who had a visit from the Archangel Saint Michael, by sheer chance he was driving through Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s village. Now there is no such thing as coincidence, there is only the will of God. Mikhail Mikhailovich went into the inn and had some food and a rest, he was going to plough on and get home for Christmas himself but then the Heavens opened and it was a Whiteout, a mountain of snow had fallen. So he just knew he’s be spending Christmas there, Mikhail Mikhailovich was soon telling tales and enjoying all the company. His eyes popped open wide when he heard what Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were up to, he had studied at School 76 himself in his youth before he became the world’s greatest Cosmonaut and then the world’s greatest storyteller.

I actually drove past them, will they be safe? They are like Polar Bears replied the three wives, besides we’ll kill them if they don’t come back, as they brandished their knives. Besides we are all pregnant so they will not abandon an unborn baby at Christmas. How many weeks are you pregnant asked Mikhail Mikhailovich? About 15 hours not weeks came the proud reply. Mikhail Mikhailovich blushed, this was like one of his stories, but true.

Mikhail Mikhailovich took out his satellite phone and recited another story so that Radio Russia would have a new story over Christmas. Then the military radio crackled, it was Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. Well we are 20k short of our destination, the snow plough cannot go any further so we will walk. We have skis and a sledge, it will be fun. Everybody looked out the window and saw the snow, it was deadly dangerous. Mikhail Mikhailovich took the microphone, hello I’m Mikhail Mikhailovich can I help in any way? We love stories replied the 3 in unison. I was meaning help in getting to your destination? We think we will be ok, we have vodka to keep us warm and multiple layers too, we have got old USSR army kit, so we should be just fine.

Mikhail Mikhailovich looked about him, these fine people deserved their own Archangel, so he took out his satellite phone. In seconds he was talking to Chuck from the USA, his friend Tim Peak who was back in space again, and Petrov a fine Russian cosmonaut. Mikhail Mikhailovich was talking to the Heavens Above AKA the Space Station. Hello guys, do you want to test that new thing you have. In seconds it was decided, it was a method of tracking Polar Bears, but now it would be tracking 3 polar bears called Lech, Boris and Gregorgi.

The only problem was their was no radio tracking device on a collar, just a vintage USSR radio. Looking around again, Mikhail Mikhailovich rung his good friend Esther, the mother of the zillionaire space satellite magnate. Shalom he began, and then Mikhail Mikhailovich explained, Esther would help he knew it. Ester put her cards down she was playing poker in Vegas, the winner chose which Charity got the pot, 10million had been raised just through her poker habit, if you can remember back to the Malta story. A phone rang in the situation room at the Pentagon, the ring tone was If I were a Rich Man sung by Topol, an actual one off recording just for a ring tone .If you are zillionaire then you can have such things. Sorry said the zillionaire turning to General Jim Mathis, mom insisted on the ring tone. In seconds all was explained and Esther went back to her poker, she wanted to win.

The zillionaire looked around, I wasn’t going to show you this yet, but a friend wants a favour. So with General Jim Mathis looking on the zillionaire brought up the satellite image. It was not perfect but through the snow Lec, Boris and Gregorgi could be made out. We’re guiding them through the snow to School 76. So the zillionaire spoke to Mikhail Mikhailovich and then he guided the three cousins.

In deep deep snow they went up and down and around and around , and this way and that way, leaving a trail as they dragged their sledge. High in space the zillionaire and brought a couple of other satellites into play, it was Christmas after all, they were not the three Magi, but they had friends in high places, very high places. But then disaster, the radio broke down, at minus 20 even a thirty year old USSR radio had to come to the end of their life.

All we can do is watch and pray, said General Jim Mathis as he looked up from the book Esther had sent him, first edition of a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. So watching from on high they all watched and prayed. Three cousins, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would go around and around until the cold killed them. From space they tracked their route, then the zillionaire spotted a pattern. Marked in the snow was PAX VOBISCOM, or Peace Be With You. Then through the snow the satellite could see a sledge drawn by enormous reindeer, there was a giant of a man on board. The giant waved at the sky as if he knew the satellites were all watching him.

Santa Claus himself had come to rescue them, if the Archangel Saint Michael had saved Mikhail Mikhailovich why shouldn’t Santa Claus save three Slav heroes called Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. And that is how Christmas was saved by Lech, Boris and Gregorgi or rather how Santa Claus saved them. School 76 had the best Christmas ever, 3 fake Santas plus the real thing. Now if you think this story is far fetched, just watch Norad track Santa this and every Christmas. And if you still don’t believe me, why are there photos of the Real Father Christmas locked in General Jim Mathis’ safe with a signed copy of a Christmas Carol on top. Marked 25 levels higher than TOP SECRET.


********

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Rescue the Old People’s Home ©

By

Michael Casey

 

Well as we are all stuck in the snow I’ve decided to share this story, you can believe it or not, its up to you. It’s 1st March 2018, Putin is boasting about his toys of war, as are other leaders. Can we just put these things away and advance science for all Mankind instead? The best of all our people is in its Spirit. So let me tell Putin and Kim and Trump a story about real Spirit. This is the story of how Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rescued 100 old people trapped in a blizzard with medicine and food running out.

 

Now Popaloffoff lies somewhere in the East where Poland, Ukraine and Russia make love on the map. They make love in bed too but I’m just trying to give you an estimation of where it is. Up in the mountains along a winding road and perched like an eagle looking down on a fast flowing river is an old monastery that is also an old people’s home for locals.  So priests and shepherds live there, the priest paint icons and the shepherds produce the finest vodka anywhere in the world, if you live in that climate you need a good drink.

 

This Winter 2017/2018 has been bad, today 1st March 2018 the weather is savage. Lech and Boris and Gregorgi got a call on the CB radio, Shepherd down, we are running out of supplies especially medicine. We may have to burn the icons to keep warm. Now to anybody in the East an icon is a Holy Holy thing, its worth more than gold, worth more than beating USA at the ice hockey. I’m  whispering this now but an icon is worth more than Vodka.

 

So when the message came on the CB radio Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had to do something. The Blizzard could go to Hell, in fact it could kiss Gregorgi’s fat ass, and his ass was fat, very fat indeed. They mounted their snowploughs and drove to base. Grit was poured to over-brimming on all three trucks, and a trailer was attached to each. Not forgetting a case of vodka in each cabin. With a blessing from an atheist they departed.

 

Only a fool, a madman, and a believer would even attempt it in this weather, but that would describe the Trio. In Popaloffoff they got the message that help was on its way, then the CB died. So they huddled together and prayed. A few of the icons were near the fire for when the firewood ended. Now as I said before Saint Michael considers Lech, Boris and Gregorgi to be his friends. As for the icons they have special powers too, but more of that later.

 

Driving in a blizzard is no fun, the Trio laughed and joked and cursed at each other over the radio. They were on a mission, a mission from God. They were not Blues Brothers they were Slavic cousins, and they were better drivers. Slip sliding away they went, round and round a garden like a teddy bear one step two step and a tickle under there. Good job there was vodka on the seat beside them. It was barely above freezing inside the cab, though they had their furs to keep them warm. That bear had nearly killed them 10 years ago, but they had sworn an oath to high Heaven that if they did not die they would repay the favour. So now wrapped in that bear’s clothes it was time to repay that debt. Popaloffoff was calling them, I saved your 3 lives, now you must save the least of my brethren.

 

It was logical, well logical to a fool, a madman and a believer, they were each and all of those things. They had visited Popaloffoff when they were kids and it had made a big big impression, so now, they had to do it, they just had to answer the call. Slip sliding away, the trailers sliding like a puppet on a string.

 

Disaster almost struck. Lech was leading his plough veered to the left, then magically it shot to the right along the mountain road. Boris and Gregorgi swore they saw an angle appear and push his truck back on the road. Was it the vodka, it was hard to tell through all the snow. It was Saint Michael himself, he had skin in this game, as did all the angels and saint on the icons.

 

After that save, like a diving ice hockey player in the Olympic final, Saint Michael was joined by a multitude of angels. If their icons were burned it did not matter, saving the lives of a Trio such as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi did matter.

 

Now the road to Poploffoff is very dangerous and you an slip off and never be seen again, or until Spring comes and the snow melts. The wind howled and the snow fell. The vodka was drunk as the Trio drunk through the blizzard. How they stayed on the road nobody would ever know, but if you were an angel looking down you could see snow angels in the snow to the left and to the right as angels pushed the truck to keep it on the road. Hundreds of snow angels made in the snow by real angels. But you don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m drinking vodka?

 

The fire was burning low so the priest with tears in his eyes put an icon on the fire. Then he closed his eyes, he did not want to see his sin. 100 people and more huddled around a fire with their eyes closed, begging the angles and saints to forgive them for their sin. The angles and saints were crying, not for their icons but because they were humbled to see such Faith.

 

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi drove on the perilous road, slip, sliding away. They cursed each other more, to encourage each other more. Then a tragedy, the vodka was finished. They fell silent, not long to go now, they had to concentrate more, the road was at its most dangerous now. Saint Michael called for reinforcements, a wall of angels their wings outstretched with swords drawn lined the road. Nothing would prevent them from getting to Popaloffoff now, only the Devil himself had come to see what was happening, he had smelt the scent of burning icons.

 

While Saint Michael hacked at the Devil with his sword Lech’s truck went over the cliff. It was hanging half on and half off the road. Boris and Gregorgi slammed on the brakes on their trucks. He would be dead in seconds. Only then 3 enormous bears appears and pulled the trailer and truck back on the road. The bears disappeared to be replaced by a golden angel, a beautiful golden angel.

 

Nobody said anything they drove in silence up the mountain road to Popaloffoff. They entered the courtyard and ran to refectory where everybody had been gathered. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi handed out medicine and food and unpacked the supplies. A madman, a fool and a believer had saved the day.

 

The Trio looked about and could see the icons that had been put on the fire. But when they took them out they noticed something, they wiped the soot away and the icons were perfect, intact. Babushka asked the trio to follow her to where she had been painting a new icon. She turned the icon around, and there Lech, Boris and Gregorgi could see a golden angle with 3 bears on it.

I need a drink they said in unison. So they had a drink, a real good drink. In fact they were given the recipe for Popaloffoff vodka, so if you wonder why Lech, Bori and Gregorgi are in Warley Woods or any woods for that matter its is because they are attending to their still. Oh, and before I forget, I have an angel on my wall as I talk to you all. And as for golden angel icon with 3 bears on, that is on the wall in Putin’s private office, as well as a few bottles of Popaloffoff vodka. Pope Francis has been invited to Russia you know, maybe Putin will give him a photocopy of the icon, or just some Popaloffoff vodka.      

*******

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Check it Out ©

By

Michael Casey

 

So your small girl is a big girl now, leaving home to go to University. I nodded trying to hold back the tears, the boys understood and put protective arms on my shoulder. She’ll miss Totoro the cat no doubt, but her little sister will send updates on the cat’s progress to her studying bigger sister. She may even miss her old dad, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England. I began to sniffle, but the boys understood, they were Popaloffoff’s finest, they visited me often just to see how Totoro the cat was, or so they claimed. But now the family was scattering, they knew what they had to do and do it they would.

 

The boys left me as I looked through the photo albums of my treasure soon to be far away in a different part of the country and I wouldn’t be there to protect her. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi went to the still hidden in the woods, the Vodka wouldn’t be ready for 3 more days. More than enough time to check out my daughter’s new home and University.

 

As they drove their tanker down the motorway they phoned home, their wives all agreed, they had to do what they had to do. And if only they hadn’t been so spontaneously the wives could have prepared a gift. The Butcher’s Choice, a step by step guide on how to butcher pigs along with a lethal knife. They did not expect my daughter to become a Home Butcher and chef like them, however it also taught knife skills that a single girl might need in a hurry, and I don’t mean when an unexpected dinner party arrives.

 

When they arrived at the University town the boys sat on a bench next to a drunk, so they asked the drunk all about the city in exchange for a tiny bottle of their fresh vodka. So that’s how they got the low down on the city, ask a tramp, they know everything. So first of all they went to the local Gay bar, and had a pint of Guinness each, by way of a change. The clients all thought Christmas had come early, or the were a Strip Act. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi laughed, we’ve done that before but only at a car showroom, the memories made them smile. Sorry but certain things are only for our wives eyes only.

They explained that their friend, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England had a pussy called Totoro, and that his daughter only got a cat 4 years ago as he promised her and her little sister a pet if he had a heart attack, or they could have a dog if he died. And now she was going to their city to Study. Is she Gay asked the clients? We don’t think so, it’s not something you ask somebody, of course she not, here’s her photo, so the boys showed my daughter’s photo. A few sighs went up, they were quickly silenced as the boys gave them a look. You see if she comes here she’ll be safe from BASTARDS, explained the boys.

 

They had another Guinness each, this time on the house. In exchange they handed out a Holy Picture of the Icon of Mary of Popaloffoff. If you put that in the window, she’ll know she’s safe here, the owners of the club promised they would, wiping away tears as they did so. The boys left the Jester, they were no fools, they had found the 1st place of safety for my daughter. They did take the boys’ photo too and would place that next to the Holy Picture. Faith and Brawn, nobody would ever dare to even think of playing games there, a new symbiotic relationship.

 

They went around town to sandwich bars, and coffee shops explaining the situation, at each place they handed out the Holy Picture of the Holy Icon of Mary Popaloffoff. Each place took their photo too and would display it next to the Holy Picture, something was happening, Mary of Popaloffoff was doing her bit but they were doing theirs too. The boys saw themselves just as cuddly Slav Bears, from where Russia, Ukraine and Poland make love on the Map. But to a University town in England, they were strong men from the Circus. One so strong, one so tall, one so very wide, not the kind of men you see in the back streets of a small university town.

 

They were hungry now, so they went to Greggs only the machinery had broken and they may have to throw the food away. If we fix it, can we have free food? So a deal was done. In the East, you have to fix things, 2 metres of snow, who’s going to come and fix your plant, Father Christmas? So in one hour they fixed it. The staff were mightily impressed as were the queue of people who were all dying for what only Greggs can supply. Our Lady of Popaloffoff and the boys own photo was soon installed by the door.

 

This had not been their plan, they just wanted to make sure my  daughter would be safe. Now over 200 Holy Pictures of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon were everywhere. There was a man walking with his nose in a book, he walk straight into them, spilling hundreds of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Holy Pictures everywhere. He bent down to pick them up, then he began to cry. It was Andrew Graham Dixon the greatest Art Critic in England, and friend of Popaloffoff, the boys each gave him a bear hug and kiss on the lips, like old friends do in the East. Andrew Graham Dixon took a copy of my daughter’s photo, phone to phone transfer and  said his Italian friend had a restaurant in the town, so should she want a job he was sure he could persuade his friend.

 

So the lads were pleased, but now the most dangerous part was to be done. The drunk had told them about the bad side of town, so now they must confront it. They banged on the door and waited, 3 large men with Rotts appeared, the 3 men laughed at them. You are those bleeding poofs we saw in the street picking up all those rubbish leaflets up, and then kissing that bloke on the lips, bleeding poofs, just get lost or I’ll set the Rottweilers on you.

 

Now you never ever ever speak to a man from Popaloffoff like that, or to anybody, straight or gay or any which way. And to say that a Holy Picture of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon was rubbish, was just too much. Lech looked at Boris and Boris looked at Gregorgi. They cursed the bad men with the worst word you can use in the East. NAZIS. After that the Rottweilers attacked, but punch on the nose had all 3 run away like puppy dogs. NAZIS Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  again screamed. In seconds those 3 hard men were no longer hard men, they were very scared men.

 

All they were going to ask, was that you turn this girl away if she comes to your club your place by accident, tell her to go home and put her in Mr George’s taxi, he is a nice man we met him today. But to say the Icon of Popaloffoff is rubbish, and then to set the dogs on us. That is to much. Being called Gay does not matter, one day one of our sons may say he is gay, or one of our daughters may say she is Lesbian. WE WOULD STILL LOVE THEM AS THAT IS OUR JOB TO LOVE THEM ALWAYS WHATEVER THEY ARE. We are from the East and we love our Motherlands just as we love our own mothers and daughters.  With that Lech, Boris and Gregorgi spat in the Nazis faces.

 

Then there were Police everywhere, they had been watching the club, and knew a knew loads more drugs must be there with 3 Rottweilers to guard everything. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had speeded up the process. In fact there was a reward, but they insisted it went to the Drugs Rehabilitation Centre.

 

So that is how the boys spent their day. And yes the Chief Superintendent himself kissed the boys of the lips, much to the shock of the PCs, but he had a Russian wife, so he knew about the Culture of the East. There was one other thing to mention, inside the Holy Pictures was a tiny chip, and they would give my daughter an App, it would show her all the Safe Places, and guide her safely home, whatever the darkness.

 

 *************

A Christmas without Presents ©

By

Michael Casey

 

My mother stopped buying Easter eggs for us because they cost so much, she did have 6 children after all, I was 5 of 6 if you want my Casey Borg designation. She also told us that for Christmas back in Cromane Lower Kerry Eire, she might get an orange, or a hard boiled egg, she was 3 of 7 I believe, Timothy her little brother died aged 7 from Rickets. So she always had tears in her eyes as she told the tale and admonished us for wanting too much.

 

So what should we want this Christmas, or what do we actually need? Perhaps if Santa brought us working Nuclear Fusion, which would solved the carbon crisis and Global warming. Though it might be available already but Big Oil has locked it in a safe, they are not going to lose Trillions, instead we’ll lose the Planet. Some Politics and the Greed of Economics for you. And what do we all want. Well the 3rd world wants to imitate USA, or even the wealthy side of China. Everybody wants an iphone, designed in USA by an Englishman, and manufactured in China, then sold in USA, and to the new rich in China. Making the USA stock market grow so much, until a no trade deal between USA and China means China will stop using Google, first because of a ban, but then because China can go it alone. This is Trump Economics, annoy everybody until you kill the goose and the golden eggs.

 

But I digress.

 

So children are all excited because they can see him with a large bag, full of presents, coming up the garden path, dad is even dressed like Santa. He comes through the door and says HO HO HO, the kids jump for joy. The giant sack is opened, a balloon floats out, Happy Easter on one side, with an Easter Bunny on the other. The kids laugh nervously, dad is having a laugh. Then he takes oranges, big oranges out of his pockets. The children are deflated, the balloon is half deflated too.

 

Dad sits them down to tell them a story, you remember Irish grandma back in Kerry Eire? Yes, you’ve told us a 1000 times. I have but you know what she gave me most of all, she gave me Love, with a Capital L, so this year I decided to share that love. The orphanage is near where I work and I was asked to play Santa for them as I’m so big and fat. So I gave out all the presents, and I did have presents for you all, but in all excitement I gave out your presents to them. I left them to one side and I planned to take them home to you, but they ended up in the sack for the Orphanage kids. So the orphans got some really nice presents, and you got these oranges I stole from the Orphanage Christmas party food.

 

The kids, his own kids began to cry, but as they saw Santa cry back in return they stopped crying. Sorry Santa, I mean dad, we were being selfish, at least we got something, just as Irish grandma did. So dad stays dressed as Santa and Ho Ho Ho the rest of the day, until mother took him to bed, to give him her Xmas present. He in turn gave her a Xmas present, something for all the family to enjoy, a little brother that his daughters always longed for. Though it would take 9 months for him to appear.

 

Now God works in mysterious ways, in the pocket of the Santa suit there was a Christmas card, with a message stuck to it, you are the best Santa ever, can we book you for next year? As they ate their Christmas orange the kids noticed something stuck to the Christmas card, it was lottery ticket, Santa’s Reward was written in pencil on it. And yes they won millions in the lottery, and gave half to the orphanage. Did they have loads of presents that Christmas and thereafter? NO, because they realised that the greatest gift of all is a family, and Christmas should be about that, and not presents.





















Monday, 3 July 2023

Finally, Grow Up USA, Happy 4th of July

Finally, Grow Up USA, Happy 4th of July

Why was Trump hoarding classified government documents?

Moira Donegan

Moira Donegan

We don’t know the motive for the president’s retention of files at Mar-a-Lago and Bedminster, but let’s not rule out stupidityMon 3 Jul 2023 14.18 BST

There are many surreal revelations in Jack Smith’s federal indictment of Donald Trump. There are the texts between various Trump underlings and Walt Nauta, the Trump body man who has also been indicted, showing the president directing his employees to move the boxes containing classified information back and forth to various locations around his properties in Palm Beach and Bedminster, New Jersey. There is the annoyed missive from Trump’s wife Melania, trying to make sure the boxes don’t crowd out room for her luggage on a private plane. There is the claim from Trump’s former attorney, compelled to testify against him in an unusual arrangement, that the former president suggested, with a Grinch-like pinching gesture, that the lawyer destroy confidential documents to prevent them from being produced in a subpoena. There is a text message Nauta sent to another Trump underling, showing a box having fallen over in a storage room at Mar-a-Lago, secret documents spilling on to the floor – whoops.

US judge Aileen Cannon will oversee the complex process governing classified information that could delay the Trump documents trial until 2024

What there is not, conspicuously, is a motive. Over the course of more than a year following his departure from office, it appears that Trump spent considerable effort and resources in transporting the documents with him and keeping them near at hand – and that later, as the federal government began to demand the boxes back, that he then went out of his way to keep and conceal them, going to great length, sparing no expense, and ultimately breaking the law so much that he incurred himself a series of felony charges. Anyone can tell you how this behavior is typical of Trump: how it reflects his pettiness, his contempt for the law, his willingness to sacrifice and endanger others. What no one can tell you is why he did it.

It would be more convenient – legally, for Jack Smith and his prosecutors, and politically, for Joe Biden, for the Democrats, and for the growing number of Republicans who are looking to challenge Trump in the 2024 Republican primary – if we could say precisely why Trump wanted to keep the documents so badly, exactly what he wanted them for. It would be very easy to make a case to a skeptical jury – or to a divided American people – that Trump was a danger and could not be trusted with national secrets again if it could be said that he wanted to keep the documents for any of the straightforwardly dangerous and nefarious reasons that have been speculated: if he was seeking to sell national security secrets to the Saudis, say, or to Israel; if he was hoping, as some have suggested, that he one day might be able to blackmail someone powerful, like the president of France.

It’s very possible that Trump had concocted such a plan. There is much that we do not know about the investigations into Trump, including about the special counsel’s query into his illegal document retention. But we do know that in the past, we know that he has gone further, and risked more, in the pursuit of even more harebrained schemes.

But what seems the most likely explanation is the simplest, stupidest, and most aggravating one: that Trump had no plan for the documents, except perhaps for use as souvenirs, trophies to be shown off, maybe as evidence for petty score-settling. That the documents that Trump smuggled out of the White House and squirreled away around Mar-a-Lago and Bedminster were not instruments in a coherent, well-formed plan, but instead mere ornaments to Trump’s ego. In transcripts of Trump’s statements about the documents that were included in the indictment, and in audio of Trump showing some of the secret papers off to a writer that was recently released by CNN, Trump uses the documents to contradict a former national security official he was then in a spat with in the press; he tells one interlocutor not to get too close to one of the secret papers, seeming to want to create a hush of reverence for the documents in place of respecting their confidentiality in the first place. At these moments, Trump does not sound as if he has a plan. He sounds as if he wants to impress the people in the room with him, and like he can think no further ahead than to how good it will feel to get their praise.

Why did Trump want the secret documents? Why did he refuse to return them? The answer may be the one truest to Trump’s piddling, puerile character: because they looked cool; because they reminded him of his own importance; because the government had asked for them back, and Trump has never missed an opportunity to throw a petulant little tantrum.

It is this smallness of Trump’s character, and the possible triviality of his motives, that poses a peculiar risk to both of the cases being made against Trump – the one being pursued in a Miami courthouse, and the one being pursued in public. Because there has always been an uncanny mismatch with Trump, an incongruence: between the awesome and vast powers he had in office, the historical forces he unleashed on America, and the horrible ways his presidency warped millions of lives, on the one hand; and on the other, his pettiness, his vanity, his short-sightedness, his piddling personal grievances and constant need to be flattered and reassured.

The gap between the seriousness of Trump’s role in history and his unseriousness as a person is the strange place where the documents case – and, now, much of American political thought – risks getting stuck. The very silliness of Trump’s use of the documents undercuts the grave risks posed by his hoarding of them. How can such a powerful country have been made so vulnerable by someone so stupid?

  • Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist

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