Despite the constant negative press covfefe

Mar 13, 2025

Vladimir Putin’s fan club in MAGA-world has been working overtime to peddle a cartoonish narrative where Russia — poor, innocent Russia — had no choice but to steamroll Ukraine like a drunk guy plowing his pickup through a farmer’s market. According to this bedtime story, NATO’s “betrayal,” Biden’s warmongering, and Ukraine’s “Nazi infestation” left Putin no choice but to launch his “Special Military Operation.”

It’s a fairytale so stupid it should come with pop-up pictures and a scratch-and-sniff sticker of Putin’s cologne — which I imagine smells like vodka, wet carpet, and regret. But despite being a steaming pile of nonsense, this narrative has spread across MAGA circles faster than a QAnon meme on a Facebook feed. Let’s break down the greatest hits from this propaganda playlist and expose the absolute garbage hiding beneath the surface.

“NATO EXPANSION MADE PUTIN DO IT” — THE EXCUSE THAT NEVER DIES

Ah yes, the classic “NATO forced Putin’s hand” routine — a sob story told by everyone from Tucker Carlson to random uncles at Thanksgiving. The tale goes that the West promised Gorbachev NATO wouldn’t expand “one inch eastward,” and then — gasp! — they did it anyway.

Here’s the truth: Those “promises” were never more than verbal assurances — the diplomatic equivalent of telling your buddy, “Yeah, I’ll totally help you move,” and then ghosting him on moving day. More importantly, NATO didn’t expand because the West shoved countries into the alliance — Eastern European nations sprinted toward NATO like they were running from a bear because, well… they kinda were.

And guess what? Putin didn’t invade any of those NATO countries — he went after Ukraine, a country not even in NATO. So much for that theory.

THE MINSK ACCORDS MYTH — PUTIN’S FAVORITE STALL TACTIC

If you believe MAGA-world’s version of events, Ukraine “betrayed” the Minsk Accords like a cheating spouse sneaking home at 3 a.m.

In reality, Russia never followed the agreement in the first place. Putin treated Minsk like a bad Vegas poker bluff — talking peace while smuggling weapons and mercenaries into Donbass like a mob boss moving stolen TVs out the back of a warehouse.

When Angela Merkel later said that Minsk “bought Ukraine time,” that wasn’t some smoking-gun confession — it was Merkel admitting she knew Putin was a lying sack of borscht and Ukraine needed time to prepare. Spoiler alert: She was right.

THE ODESSA FIRE DISTORTION — WHEN CHAOS BECOMES CONSPIRACY

Pro-Russian propagandists love to paint the Odessa fire as some grim massacre where Ukrainian “Right Sector thugs” turned into medieval executioners. In their version, nationalists locked pro-Russian activists inside a building and gleefully torched it.

The truth? The Odessa tragedy was an out-of-control street brawl that spiraled into chaos. Both sides were throwing punches, Molotov cocktails, and who knows what else — until the whole thing erupted. Pretending it was a pre-planned bloodbath is Kremlin propaganda 101.

It’s like blaming a bar fight on the bartender for “serving too much peace.”

THE “UKRAINE IS FULL OF NAZIS” NONSENSE

Putin’s “denazification” excuse is a classic move — like calling yourself a vegan right before scarfing down a cheeseburger.

Yes, Ukraine has some far-right nationalist groups. But here’s the kicker — so does Russia, and Putin’s been funding European neo-fascists like they’re his personal fantasy football team. The whole “Ukrainian Nazis” excuse is less about stopping fascism and more about giving Putin’s bloodthirsty invasion a moral fig leaf.

If Putin really wanted to fight Nazis, he could start by firing half his generals.

THE “BIDEN AND BORIS SABOTAGED PEACE” FAIRYTALE

Here’s a fun one: According to Putin’s bootlickers, Ukraine was this close to signing a peace deal — but then Joe Biden and Boris Johnson swooped in like cartoon villains, twirling their mustaches and whispering, “Keep fighting, kid!”

This version leaves out one teensy detail — Putin’s “peace deal” wasn’t a deal at all. He demanded Ukraine hand over its occupied territories, neuter its military, and let Russia control their foreign policy like some mafia boss demanding “protection money.”

Zelensky walked away because Putin offered nothing but humiliation wrapped in a “compromise.” Ukraine didn’t reject peace — they rejected surrender.

THE “SPECIAL MILITARY OPERATION” — RUSSIA’S WORST REBRAND YET

Putin’s attempt to market his war as a “Special Military Operation” is like calling a chainsaw attack a “gentle exfoliation.”

This wasn’t some surgical strike to “protect Donbass civilians” — it was a full-scale invasion that targeted everything from apartment buildings to maternity wards. Mass graves in Bucha, missile strikes on Kyiv, and civilians massacred in Mariupol — Putin’s “special operation” has been about as precise as a drunken bear in a china shop.

Calling this a “special military operation” is just propaganda’s version of false advertising — Putin’s own “New Coke,” except instead of tasting weird, it comes with war crimes.

THE “NUCLEAR WAR IS UKRAINE’S FAULT” GIMMICK

When Putin’s war started going south, his supporters cranked up the fear-mongering: “Ukraine’s refusal to surrender is dragging us toward nuclear war!”

This is hostage-taking logic at its finest. Putin — the guy who’s spent the last two years rattling his nuclear saber like he’s compensating for something — is suddenly painted as the reasonable one, while Ukraine’s refusal to roll over is treated as reckless provocation.

That’s like blaming the guy tied to a chair for refusing to sign over his house to the guy holding the flamethrower.

THE BOTTOM LINE

This whole narrative — the one poisoning social media, right-wing podcasts, and MAGA rallies — isn’t just propaganda. It’s lazy propaganda. Half-truths, distorted timelines, and recycled lies served up in a greasy wrapper labeled “The Real Story.”

Putin didn’t invade Ukraine because NATO hurt his feelings. He invaded because Ukraine wouldn’t bend the knee. He thought Kyiv would fall in three days, and when that didn’t happen, he pivoted to playing victim.

And now, MAGA-world is playing along — swallowing Kremlin talking points like they’re lining up for communion. Because in their twisted worldview, Putin’s never the aggressor, Biden’s always the villain, and Ukraine’s just an inconvenient speed bump on Russia’s road to empire.

It’s not diplomacy. It’s not history. It’s MAGA Make Believe — and if you believe it, I’ve got a bridge to Crimea I’d love to sell you.

…..

For years, Elon Musk played the part of the unstoppable force — a walking, talking tech-industrial complex with the audacity of Tony Stark, the stubbornness of Howard Hughes, and the public relations finesse of a blender on “liquefy.” He rocketed Tesla to dominance, bullied his way into space travel, turned Twitter into X, and somehow ended up running a government agency with all the precision of a toddler driving a forklift.

Musk wasn’t just successful — he was inevitable. No scandal could stick, no controversy could shake him. When his behavior turned erratic, his defenders spun it as brilliance disguised as madness. He wasn’t arrogant — he was just thinking on another level. He wasn’t chaotic — he was just too innovative for structure. For years, Musk existed in a reality distortion field so powerful it bent markets, governments, and public opinion alike. He wasn’t just winning — he was rewriting the rules of what winning looked like.

But now, the machine is breaking down.

Tesla’s stock has cratered. SpaceX’s rockets are detonating like Fourth of July mortars. X — Musk’s overcooked Twitter rebrand — is bleeding advertisers faster than a frat house hemorrhages kegs. His stint as the head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has turned into a punchline, and his behavior has grown increasingly volatile — public spats, strange hand gestures that people swear looked suspiciously like Nazi salutes, and bizarre social media rants that read like someone injected a Reddit conspiracy thread directly into his bloodstream.

Elon Musk — the man who once seemed unstoppable — is limping. The flashing red eyes are flickering. The gears are grinding. Sparks are flying.

But if there’s one thing Musk still has, it’s an instinct for spectacle — and perhaps, just maybe, a shred of self-awareness lurking beneath the chaos. If this downward spiral has a Terminator 2 ending — and God, wouldn’t that be fitting — it might just involve Musk pulling off the greatest stunt of his career: saving the world by destroying himself.

In Terminator 2, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s T-800 isn’t the villain — he’s the protector. He spends the whole movie shielding John Connor from the liquid-metal nightmare that is the T-1000. But when the dust settles, when the T-1000 has been melted into so much molten soup, the T-800 realizes his own presence is still a threat. His CPU — a chip filled with future tech — can’t be allowed to exist. To secure humanity’s future, he has to destroy himself.

“I know now why you cry… but it’s something I can never do.”

Musk’s moment — if it ever comes — may look a little like that. The man who built Tesla, SpaceX, and X may have to accept that the best thing he can do for those companies — and maybe even for the country — is step back and let them breathe. Tesla’s next great innovation won’t come from a CEO who spends more time trolling on X than managing his factories. SpaceX’s Mars ambitions will be a lot easier to realize with someone other than Musk taking phone calls from the Department of Defense. Even X, assuming it’s still salvageable, needs a leader more interested in building an online platform than picking fights with advertisers and screeching about “woke mind virus.”

Musk’s final act — if he has the courage to pull it off — would be to lower himself into the molten steel of retirement or quiet philanthropy, to step away from the chaos and let someone else take the wheel.

And just like Schwarzenegger’s Terminator, maybe Musk could manage one last defiant thumbs-up on the way down. A signal — to investors, employees, and maybe even his critics — that he finally gets it. That sometimes, the greatest act of strength is letting go.

The tragedy, of course, is that Musk may never reach that moment. The machine still thinks it can win. Still thinks it’s indestructible. Still believes that if it just keeps crawling, dragging its twisted frame forward, it can somehow bulldoze its way out of disaster.

But the longer Musk clings to power, the greater the risk that there’s no John Connor to hit the “crush” button — no one to stop the machine before it drags everything else down with it.

If Musk is wise — if he’s learned anything from the fires, the explosions, and the mounting wreckage of his empire — he’ll grab that chain. He’ll lower himself down before the red eyes flicker out for good.

And maybe — just maybe — that’ll be enough to save the future.

…….

Look, we’re not going to pretend this is some carefully crafted “mission statement” — the kind that sounds like it was written by a marketing intern in a WeWork office. But if you want to know what drives us, here’s the truth:

We’re here to ask questions, challenge narratives, and poke the bear — not because we distrust everything, but because we know some things are worth trusting. The Earth is round. Gravity’s real. And yes, sometimes people in power lie — badly. That’s where we come in.

We dig into stories that others ignore, avoid, or fumble — not because it’s easy, but because someone has to. We know lazy journalism is dangerous, media manipulation is rampant, and powerful people thrive when no one’s watching. So we watch — closely — and when we find something that stinks, we say so. Loudly.

We want people to read, share, and argue — not just to stir the pot, but because those conversations can lead to something better. Truth doesn’t spread itself — people do.

And sometimes — just sometimes — we will roast crokked politicians, greedy billionaires, or even a pair of Snopes reporters who should honestly be too embarrassed to leave the house by now. We don’t do it just to score points — we do it because they’ve earned it, and frankly, it’s good for morale. We need those moments — those honest, ridiculous laughs — because the work we do can be dark, exhausting, and absurd. Humor helps us stay sane.

It’s a fine line we walk — between outrage and laughter, skepticism and trust, hope and frustration — and that’s why we call it Closer to the Edge.