‘I didn’t know he is also a magician’: It might be time to stop bashing Donald Trump for his ‘Haitians eating cats and dogs’ antics now that we know his excuse

According to the Conspiracy-Theorist-in-Chief, the fine folks of Springfield, Ohio (not the one with the nuclear plant and the dysfunctional canary-hued family, mind you) have worked up quite an appetite. On stage, he boldly declared that Haitian immigrants are literally eating people’s pets. Cats, dogs, hamsters – no beloved furry companion is safe from the ravenous clutches of these people! It’s just the latest chapter in the Bumbling Billionaire’s never-ending saga of demonizing immigrants, a pastime as American as apple pie (which, incidentally, is the only thing he hasn’t accused them of devouring yet). Thanks to Trump and right-wing agitator Erika Lee, the cuckoo conspiracy theory touched off a powderkeg of violent threats and turned Springfield into a ghost town this week.

But maybe it’s time we lay off lambasting the Trumpster for these berserk shenanigans, seeing as the root cause is now painfully apparent: the Cheeto-in-Chief’s wheel is spinning, but the hamster’s dead. I tell ya, if you took a cross-section of Trump’s brainpan right now, it’d look like a hunk of Swiss cheese that’s been left out in the Florida sun too long. What other explanation could there be for him maniacally raving about an imaginary audience “going absolutely bonkers” for him at the debate against Kamala Harris? One of the basic rules was that no live audience would be present, along with mic-cutting and no earpieces allowed. Yes, the t was emptier than Rudy Giuliani’s ethics classes.

That didn’t stop Trump from ranting on Gutfeld! that the nonexistent crowd went gaga for him, even as he bellyached about s “fact-checking me, practically every blessed thing I said” while giving Harris a free .

You’d think a megalomaniac with Trump’s planetary ego and mania for crowd sizes (he recently bragged about drawing a bigger audience than MLK) would have a firmer grasp on reality. But no, the Emperor of Exaggeration has indeed lost the plot entirely, and social media wasted no time pointing and laughing.

One pictured Trump pulling phantom fans out of a hat:

Others smelled the rank odor of cerebral decay:

Some didn’t mince words:

Running for president is a grueling gig, especially when you’re a septuagenarian with a penchant for XXXL tros. The rigors of the campaign trail would take a toll on anyone’s marbles. Whispers about The Donald’s dodgy gray matter have been percolating for dog’s years — from the “stable genius” auto-back-patting and waving at empty crowds, to verbal switcheroos involving Grinch-Lorax lovechild ought to swallow himself before the Haitian Boogeyman haunting his nightmares hops off the dreamscape.