Gratitude isn’t just about the good times. I’ve written a lot over the past seven years. Join me on Substack where I will be sharing those stories and more soon.
@HunterBiden@mirandadevine This Steve Bannon? Who worked as Trump’s chief strategist and senior counsel and helped Epstein “rehabilitate his image” before his death?
@HunterBiden@mirandadevine Yeah. But Smirnoff got furloughed after serving only months of that 6 year sentence because he had "Glaucoma"
FBI informant who lied about Biden 'bribes' pleads guilty https://t.co/1gG7yqxOJf
The Bannon/ Guo connection:
“Exclusive: Leaked messages reveal the origins of the most vile Hunter Biden smear” by Dan Friedman, Mother Jones, April 7, 2022
https://t.co/E6WgLMGMhh
Another one of @MirandaDevine’s favorite sources is going to jail.
Miles Guo got 30 years yesterday for a billion-dollar fraud.
He was Steve Bannon’s business partner. Together they built GTV. GTV pushed the doctored photos and smears about me. They built the Laptop from Hell narrative. Devine made it famous. Guo even had a Mar-a-Lago membership.
He joins Alexander Smirnov. Six years for fabricating the Burisma bribery story that drove the impeachment inquiry against my father. Smirnov admitted he made it up.
And Gal Luft. Still a fugitive. Indicted for acting as an unregistered Chinese agent after paying a Trump adviser to push Beijing’s line in public.
All three came after me and my father. All three are liars and frauds. All three served the interests of Donald Trump. And they are just the tip of the iceberg.
Follow me on Substack where I’ll be sharing the whole story soon.
if you're going back to @AthFest today (and we hope you are) please remember to hydrate like this intrepid man, and to leave your dogs at home - roads and sidewalks are too hot for their paddy-paws!
I was not planning to do a show today but after speaking with @baroncoleman yesterday evening he convinced me there was certain evidence that we were withholding that needed to be released. It is a game-changer.
You will immediately understand why we chose to hold onto it for so long and opted to instead allow people to spin their alibis and attacks against us in the meantime.
Join us LIVE in about 30 minutes for a special broadcast:
https://t.co/SRbe5aeQ9h
We discuss the new pictures, the ones @RealCandaceO showed for the first time on her show, and the one I showed for the first time today on X.
I give my theory on what might have happened.
https://t.co/DtoZUdx9DP
Thank you, Secretary Kennedy, for releasing the $700 million in behavioral health funding my father’s administration authorized.
But it should not have taken this long. The delay cost lives.
Putting people living on the streets first is right. They are the easiest to see and the easiest to ignore.
I have no problem with the mission.
I have a problem with one sentence in the guidance: STREETS grants cannot pay for harm reduction.
Harm reduction is not an ideology. It is a clean syringe, naloxone in a backpack, fentanyl test strips in a pocket. A place where someone can be kept breathing instead of being found dead.
I personally know people whose lives were saved by harm reduction. I know you do too. I know what they have done with those lives since. Not one of them would be in recovery today if they didn’t have access to harm reduction. The would be dead.
Anyone serious about recovery knows harm reduction saves lives. Ask people in the rooms. Ask the families keeping naloxone in the kitchen drawer.
If you want the Great American Recovery to mean something, fund what keeps people on this side of the grave. We do recover, but only if we make it out alive.
I painted this self portrait from a photograph the New York Post and Daily Mail ran over and over again alongside horrible stories about me. They averaged about 3 stories a day between them for years. The image came from their complete theft of my digital life. In the photograph I am in the worst stretch of my addiction. Exhausted. Contemplating how I could end everything.
They published it over and over because they believed it showed something disturbing, something degenerate, something people would recognize as evidence of whatever they were accusing me of that particular day.
I set out to paint it because I wanted to take back what they were trying to steal from me. It wasn’t just the image they had stolen. They had stolen thousands of images. They wanted to steal my humanity. Their portrait was of a monster. My portrait is of a man being reassembled piece by piece, bit by bit, pixel by pixel through the hard work of recovery.
A portrait of someone worth saving. Someone worth forgiveness. For all of me. Past. Present. Future. Gratitude for all of it.
The images they meant as weapons are no longer weapons to me. The man in them is no longer theirs to describe. He is mine, and I love him.
We do recover.
The Lessons I Learned from My Dad
I am not the man my father is.
I am trying. Some days closer. Some days farther.
He never sat me down and explained these lessons. He lived them. I’m still learning them.
Show up.
The kitchen table. The hospital room. The funeral. The picket line. The call from the son who won’t answer.
Show up.
Most days that’s the whole job.
My whole life I watched him do it. Not for cameras. Not for headlines. Not because there was something in it for him. He showed up because someone needed him.
I learned that grief doesn’t make you special.
My father buried a wife and daughter. He buried a son. Yet he never treated grief as a claim on other people’s sympathy. Instead, it made him notice theirs.
A mother who lost a child. A father sitting beside a hospital bed. A kid scared about what comes next. A son who lost his mother, his sister, his brother.
He always noticed.
I learned that power is not the point.
The people who chase power eventually confuse the office with themselves.
My father never did.
Whether he was a county councilman, a senator, vice president, or president, he was the same man.
The title changed.
He didn’t.
I learned that family comes first.
The train from Wilmington wasn’t symbolism.
It was every night.
He read to us. Showed up to games. Sat through hospital rooms. Waited up for children who were lost.
And when the day came that the country and the family could not both have him at full strength, he chose family. He relinquished the last chapter of how he wanted to be remembered. And he never complained about it.
Most of all, I learned that love is not soft.
Love is discipline.
Love is showing up at one in the morning when nobody is watching.
Love is answering the phone.
Love is staying.
Love is getting back up after life knocks you down and doing it all again tomorrow.
That love saved my life.
I’ve failed at many of these lessons, sometimes in very public ways.
He loved me anyway.
That’s the last lesson.
I am not trying to become my father.
I am trying to carry what he gave me.
And if I can do that, even imperfectly, that will be enough.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
Note to anyone angry that Trump's name was taken off the Kennedy Center, don't you worry. You can still find his name in the Epstein files over 38,000 times.
I’ve always wanted Joe and Jill to see my charcoal drawing that I did years ago… but, I get it. Sort of impossible, right? I’m just a small potatoes artist
Maybe Hunter can help me? They say *shoot your shot* right?
@HunterBiden
Things the recovery industry will not tell you:
1. The drug worked. That is why people use it. Not weakness. Not moral failure.
A neurological event so complete and persuasive that any honest account of addiction has to start there.
The problem is not that the drug fails. The problem is that what it does is unrepeatable, and you will burn your entire life to the ground trying to get back to a place that no longer exists.
2. Shame is not guilt. Guilt says I did something bad. Shame says I am something bad. Guilt is appropriate. Shame is a cell with no windows. Most people use the words interchangeably. That mistake is lethal.
3. You cannot shame someone who has already named the thing you are holding over them. Say it first. Say it in plain light. The weapon drops.
4. Guilt can coexist with self-respect. Shame cannot. You can hold the damage and the dignity at the same time. I know because I live there.
5. Radical honesty does not give you back who you were. It hands you the clean slate of who you always wanted to be. The mask comes off. The cartoon other people drew of you stays on the page.
6. Nobody gets clean on a winning streak.
7. You have to be almost self-delusional in your forgiveness of yourself. (Go watch Chase Hughes)
8. The greatest sin was not the chaos. It was the absence. Being unavailable to the people who needed you.
9. Sustainable recovery starts with one thing: honesty with yourself. If you love an addict and want to help, that is the only door in.
10. I am only an expert on my recovery. Nobody is an expert on anyone else’s.
In recovery we learn the whole point is service.
Showing up for somebody besides yourself.
That’s leadership too.
Setting the tone.
Right now the tone is vengeance and yeah, I get the anger.
But anger isn’t leadership. It’s tyranny.
We can and should reach for each other. Demand better.