Listen, Francois, it’s adorable that you, nursing a tepid espresso on your government-mandated six-week nap, are trying to comprehend the high-octane spectacle of American democracy. You clutch your pearls over his "vulgar language," but we didn’t fight a revolution to be governed by someone who uses semicolons; we demand the chaotic, 3:00 AM all-caps energy required to genuinely terrify global adversaries. And those 34 felony convictions? Racking up that many charges takes a relentless, roll-up-your-sleeves American work ethic that your stagnant European economies simply can't grasp—he didn't just break the glass ceiling of political corruption, he got the highest score possible, 77 million and counting. As for his name in the Epstein files, being a coastal billionaire in the 90s meant ending up in a lot of spreadsheets, which is basically the elite equivalent of accidentally getting stuck on the Bed Bath & Beyond mailing list. You old-world, Islamic puppets are burdened by obsolete concepts like "civic shame," whereas we recognize that the presidency is a reality television show, so go back to paying 85% taxes to subsidize a bicycle museum while we thrive under a man who could confidently misspell your entire continent.