Mort Report is a labor of love by old-style correspondents with lifetimes on the road and young ones with fresh eyes. Our philosophy is simple: we report at first hand with analysis based on non-alternative fact, not opinion. If we get something wrong, we fix it.
TOURTOUR, France — I felt the mother of all rants coming on as a real-estate huckster in a disrespectful blue suit snored through a papal funeral — just after telling Volodymyr Zelensky he must cede to Satan the territory Ukrainians have bled for years to defend.
But faithful readers know my views on Donald Trump. Before getting into fresh facts, I imagined his own reckoning with Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, facing the Ten Commandments without lawyers and truth-twisters on the public payroll.
Peter: "Let's skip adultery. I haven't got all week. How about bearing false witness?" Trump: "No, never." Peter: "Hmm, the Washington Post racked up 30,573 lies in your first term. Our lifetime tally wore out a dozen angels before they gave up in disgust."
It went downhill fast with coveting, stealing and all those graven images of himself that Trump markets at outrageous prices to his fleeced flock — even a schlocky King Donald's Bible.
There were awkward moments about Christ's teachings, like moneychangers in the temple and camels more likely to pass through the eye of a needle than uncharitable billionaires getting into Heaven.
Then Peter got to the big one, Thou shalt not kill. Trump sputtered: "But I never shot anyone on Fifth Avenue. That was just a boast to underscore my godlike status among all those suckers who worship me. Wait, let me rephrase that."
And here it gets serious — and very real.
PARIS — Françoise Giroud's old warning resonates across Europe like an air-raid siren. As a reporter, a Resistance runner and a Gestapo prisoner, she learned the hard way what can happen when a power-mad deviant unleashes fanatic ideologues.
"This is how fascism begins," she wrote. "It never says its name. It creeps, it floats. When it reaches the tips of people's noses, they say: 'Is this it? You think? Don't exaggerate!' And then one day it smacks them in the mouth, and it is too late to get rid of it."
Giroud, co-founder of the weekly L'Express, was the first French cabinet minister for women's affairs. Her Jewish father ran an Ottoman Empire news agency before fleeing Turkey with his family in 1916 to find refuge in France.
She watched Americans overcome an aversion to foreign entanglements after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941. The United States took the lead in beating back an evil axis, then spent heavily to pick up the pieces of a shattered world.
President Harry Truman rallied international support for Geneva conventions on human rights and a United Nations as bulwarks against future tyrannies.
Despots succeed with fear, not love, Machiavelli wrote in his demagogues' playbook. They cow dissenters into submission, then reward sycophants in calculated measure. And they mask their own failings by demonizing vulnerable minorities in their midst.
These days, Americans mostly fixate on the moment, ignoring history. Protecting democracy depends not on heeding a 15th-century Florentine but rather a cartoon possum. Walt Kelly's Pogo had it right: "We have met the enemy, and he is us."
America's face to the world is now a treacherous, semi-literate felon who mocks the rule of law and spurns free trade. Dictators play on his narcissism. And even the closest, oldest U.S. allies, infuriated, intend to push back hard in every way they can.
