Gold-Plated Bribes & Burnt Biscuits

A Flying Palace, History Lesson Gone Wrong

Something is swirling in the air lately, a story as gaudy as a chandelier in a chicken coop and just as out of place. And yet, as troubling as the smoke that settles across the Rogue Valley in the heat of summer.

Qatar has reportedly offered Trump a gold-plated Boeing 747, once flown by their royal family. It’s been polished for show and passed along like last Sunday’s casserole at the church potluck. And in what can only be described as a new low in historical illiteracy, MAGA diehards and the devoutly misled have dared to liken this gilded monstrosity to France gifting us Lady Liberty herself.

Now, here at Miss Behaving, we appreciate imaginative storytelling. After all, we've claimed more than once that pie counts as breakfast fruit. But comparing a beacon of freedom to an airborne ego soother? Darling, that doesn't sit right, no matter how much sugar you sprinkle on it.

The Statue Stood For Freedom, This Just Reclines

Lady Liberty stands tall for democracy, compassion, and the gentle strength of a nation built on dreams. Trump's shiny, secondhand jetliner, dripping in gold and desperation, tells a very different story, about a man whose favorite mirror is any surface reflecting his praise. This isn't diplomacy or friendship; it's a calculated gamble by Qatar, placing a bet on a tantrum-prone man-child who goes weak in the knees for strongmen and confuses flattery for foreign policy.

The Biscuit's Burnt & the Pantry's Quiet

Yet beneath this absurd spectacle, beyond the glittering surface and Trump's hunger for attention, there lies something darker, a quiet corrosion creeping into our democracy. It's easy to get distracted by the spectacle, but let's not mistake the forest for the spray-tanned trees.

It's not that we're comfortable with it...far from it. It spreads like wildfire through dry grass, fast and unforgiving. But some politicians and talking heads are brushing off this blatant meddling with the same lazy indifference they'd show a slightly burnt biscuit. It's overcooked, sure, but it still gets passed around like it belongs on the table, served with a smile, as if nothing were wrong. And wouldn't you know it, the very folks who once pitched fits over who saluted with which hand or wore what on a lapel are now quieter than a possum in the pantry. Seems outrage only matters when it's aimed at someone else's table.

Gold Plane, Tin Soul

Now let's be clear: this golden plane isn't just another bauble meant to dazzle a man whose appetite for attention outpaces his understanding of power. This is a loyalty test dressed in leather upholstery. A gold-wrapped IOU parked on the tarmac, humming with the soft purr of future favors. You don't dangle a flying palace in front of a man like Trump without expecting something in return...and let's not pretend he wouldn't sign the country over if it meant having his face embroidered on the seat backs.

It's a test balloon too, drifting overhead, gauging just how indifferent we've become to democracy being bought, sold, or traded like carnival tickets. Silence or casual acceptance sets a perilous precedent, making what should alarm us feel utterly ordinary.

But here in our corner of the world, we know better. We've always known better. Community anchors us, and hope lights our path even when shadows creep close.

Not Here. Not Now.

Democracy doesn't flourish in silence or shine brightest in gold. It lives in our voices, brave and clear. It thrives when we stand together, determined and unyielding. Because courage, dear friends, is what democracy wears when everything else fades.

Keep your eyes open and your voice steady. This isn't just about one man or one plane. It's about what we allow to fly under the radar. So if power comes knocking in gold-plated shoes, let it find us ready. Not fooled. Not flattered. But lit from within and linked arm in arm, unafraid to say: not here. Not like this.