Yeah, yeah.  Saudi sword dances, the Pope, NATO, G7, blah, blah, blah.  Trump manhandles another NATO leader; rudely jerks Macron around with his famous Queens-style jerk and push handshake; runs out of gas and has to follow other G7 leaders while they stroll the streets of Taormina, Sicily in a…wait for it…golf cart.  Then he refuses to join in the consensus on the Paris climate accord.  What a 24 karat gold dick, right?  (Sorry, Momma, but it’s the only word I can think of today)

But that’s not the breaking news.  Here’s the breaking news:

See it?  Please tell me you see it.  For the first time in my memory, he actually buttoned his goddam jacket.  Famous for his 3-foot-long-cheap-made-in-Gīna ties, with which he attempts to cover that huge full-of-well-done-steak belly and not call attention to that massive, er, uh, rear terrace, he habitually stands in that weird slump with his suit jacket gaping open for all to see.  You’ll notice here a first (or at least first in a long time), where he actually buttoned his jacket and looked less like a NY mafia don and more like the disgusting and hair-weaved narcissistic reality television star that he is.

Oh, and here’s the only view I want to see of him for the last time – leaving the WH forever:

So there.