By Bob Gaydos 

Don Sr., Don Jr. and Bettina, the new Mrs. Trump

RSVP: I regret that I will be unable to attend your wedding because the timing is bad and I have a lot of important stuff to do at home and people would be angry if I took the time away from that stuff.

Love, Dad

       No, he didn’t write that email to his first-born son, named after him. He just said it out loud for the world to hear. At least he didn’t say, “Thank you for your attention to this matter.”

        Donald Trump Jr., also known as “Dumb,” from the Dumb and Dumber duo, was married Friday on a small island in the Bahamas. His second marriage. A small, intimate affair. Just 50 family and close friends. Daddy, who once said, “The family is really the foundation of a prosperous and good society,” couldn’t make it. He was, he said, too busy. 

        Trying to wreck the New World Order. There was this annoying war thing in Iran. And, you know, that 30-year-old murder charge to file against Raoul Castro. Maybe even invade Cuba for some reason. And the Congress wasn’t buying his slush fund for the criminals who invaded the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2020, trying to overthrow a newly elected government

        Stuff.

        It was simply too much to deal with just for a second marriage of your oldest son. Besides, there wouldn’t really be any voters there to try to impress. And the Bahamas have some kind of silly law about being able to deny entry to anyone convicted of a serious felony. And there was that speaking appearance in the Hudson Valley to support a loyal congressman who was elected by a small group of enthusiastic, well-organized supporters apparently pretending to be Democrats.

       Important stuff.

       Funny coincidence: Don Jr.’s new wife, Bettina Anderson, described as a “sociaIite,” is the daughter of the late Palm Beach banker, Harry Loy Anderson Jr., who had a mutual friend with Trump Senior — Jeffrey Epstein. The banker reportedly socialized with and helped Epstein get major tax breaks for his own special island.

       Talk about synchronicity. It’s too bad Trump had too much important stuff to deal with to attend his son’s wedding. Dad might have had some stories to share with his new daughter-in-law about her father and their fun days with Epstein. 

        Better luck next time.

“Football, beer, and above all, gambling filled up the horizon of their minds. To keep them in control was not difficult.” George Orwell, 1984 

By Bob Gaydos

  If I were a wagering man, and having missed out on the Pam Bondi firing, I would lay a few sheckles on the likelihood that Trump will flush Pete Hegseth next and label him an ineffective Secretary of War.

   You can do that legally. I just found out. Somehow, the presence of so-called Prediction Markets escaped my attention as I struggled to maintain my sanity in a world going mad by design. Ironically, these markets are prime evidence of that phenomenon.

     And it has been happening for some time, starting with legalized sports betting. In my opinion, the emergence of legalized sports betting, not only on game outcomes, but specific moments within the game, has seriously eroded the simple enjoyment, never mind the credibility, of sports. The lure of big gambling money has made sports more profitable and players understandably want and deserve a share of the added money. Bigger contracts then mean higher costs at the stadium. Betting on a field goal or strikeout holds the lure of quick money to pay for the beer and hot dogs.

    It’s all about the money.

    But apparently it’s no longer energizing enough for people looking for an escape and maybe some easy money to just place a bet on whether some college or pro player will make or miss a foul shot. Now apparently you can bet on whether the coach will be fired and arrested at a DWI Checkpoint on the way home. Maybe he’ll run over someone.

   What are the odds? Who cares? What have you got to lose? If he makes it home safely, you can always bet on when Trump is going to lower tariffs again. That’s a surer bet.

    It’s also one of the things wrong with prediction markets. Never mind manipulating the stock market, people in positions of power can affect world events. People in power, if they choose to, can manipulate world events. And people in power, if they are of a mind to do so, might let someone know when to expect some unexpected event.

   Like the United States attacking Iran. While Trump was killing 168 Iranian school girls by giving the order to attack, someone betting on the prediction market was making a killing by predicting the attack would happen on the day it would happen. You may recall that Trump had just previously said talks between the U.S. and Iran were moving along on the nuclear weapons issue and no military action appeared to be imminent. No hints. No warning. Just bombs and a financial bonanza for someone.

   Some governors have sued to ban prediction markets as a form of legalized sports gambling, which their states do not allow. Democrats in Congress have introduced legislation to simply ban prediction markets in this country, but the White House, of course, has no problem with them.

  With Trump, a former casino owner in charge, the house can literally fix the game. Like kidnaping the Venezuelan president, also apparently a coincidental lucky big payoff for some anonymous bettor. And it’s probably not a coincidence that Trump’s sons, Eric and Don Junior, have a major stake in a prediction market and Don is an advisor to another one, Kalshi. No likelihood of collusion here.

    But really, forget the fact that America is losing jobs, prices on everything, not just gasoline, are rising daily, young men are struggling to find work and hoping the draft isn’t reinstituted, farmers are being bailed out by the government that killed their markets and millions can’t afford healthcare. That’s just the day-to-day reality in Trump’s America. Prediction markets drag everything down to a lower level of humanity.

   Betting on war, assassinations, or some other form of others’ misfortune for personal financial gain is a dehumanizing activity. It’s immoral. A perverted version of no pain, no gain. As Orwell foresaw, it’s surrender disguised as entertainment. It’s like saying, as long as the world is so screwed up, I might as well try to make some money off it. 

    Forget it, pal. That game is rigged for the House, too.