Bill Maher personifies the difference between a liberal (which he is) and a leftist (which he isn’t). But he’s been a stridently vocal critic of Trump since long before Trump even ran for president. Maher was the first person on television to correctly predict that Trump, if he lost the 2020 election, would attempt to remain in office. Maher and Trump, however, are mutual friends with Kid Rock, and Rock arranged for Trump to invite Maher to the White House for a private dinner. UFC chief and Meta board member Dana White was also there. A decade ago even imagining this guest list for a White House dinner would have been a warning that you ought to lay off the drugs. Today, this is normal.

On this clip from his show this weekend, Maher reports on the dinner. What it was like. What Trump was like. Turns out, in private, Trump turns it off. He was normal. Or, well, normal for Donald Trump. He wasn’t what we see in public. I find that fascinating. Not exculpatory. Just interesting. Is he “They’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the cats!” crazy 24 hours a day, or just when the cameras are on?

Some on the left are absolutely losing their shit over Maher for this. I don’t get it. This is the single most interesting report on Trump I’ve seen in years because it’s real. Maher didn’t come out of the dinner brainwashed. He’s not now saying Trump is doing a good job. He’s not now saying things are in any way OK. He spent his whole monologue before this report rightfully skewering Trump’s humiliating weeklong tariffs tantrum. After the report, Maher interviewed total nutjob Steve Bannon and literally shoved a copy of the Constitution in Bannon’s face when Bannon started blathering about Trump running for a third term in 2028. From Maher’s preface to his report:

“Oh my god Bill, are you going to say something nice about him? What I’m going to do is report exactly what happened. You decide what you think about it. And if that’s not enough pure Trump hate for you I don’t give a fuck.”

The whole episode was great.

Crackerjack essay by Chuck Wendig:

Maybe it’s like turbulence on an airplane, you think. Just a bumpy unpleasant awful experience you gotta get through. But when turbulence hits it’s not because the pilot is a guy who doesn’t “know planes,” when turbulence hits they don’t disappear the ninth row people out the airlock because they “look different” and are “probably causing the problem.” Planes don’t have airlocks, do they? Whatever. My brain is spray cheese.

Vanity Fair published an excerpt from Chris Whipple’s new book on the final years of Joe Biden’s presidency, under the headline “Did Aides Cover Up His Mental State — or Was It Group Delusion?” (News+ link):

The president’s wobbly state should have been a flashing warning light. At his first meeting with Biden, Ron Klain, his former White House chief of staff, who was in charge of debate prep, was startled. He’d never seen Biden so exhausted and out of it. He seemed unaware of what was happening in his own campaign. The president appeared obsessed with foreign policy and uninterested in his second-term plans. During one prep session in Aspen Lodge, the presidential cabin, Biden suddenly got up, walked out to the pool, collapsed on a lounge chair, and fell sound asleep. Yet his advisers were undaunted. With unintended irony, one of them explained their strategy to me: “An early debate would quiet fears that the president was infirm.”

Jiminy.

Jamelle Bouie, writing at The New York Times (gift link):

There is a hypothetical president with a hypothetically similar agenda who could answer these questions. This actual president cannot. He did not reason himself into his preoccupation with tariffs and can neither reason nor speak coherently about them. There is no grand plan or strategic vision, no matter what his advisers claim — only the impulsive actions of a mad king, untethered from any responsibility to the nation or its people. For as much as the president’s apologists would like us to believe otherwise, Trump’s tariffs are not a policy as we traditionally understand it. What they are is an instantiation of his psyche: a concrete expression of his zero-sum worldview. [...]

You could even say that this need to dominate — this overwhelming drive to show mastery — is constitutive of Trump’s self. There must be a loser, or else there is no Trump. [...] The upshot of this understanding of Trump’s personality is that there is no point at which he can be satisfied. He will always want more: more supplicants to obey his next command, more displays of his power and authority and more opportunities to trample over those who don’t belong in his America.

There’s no point to this other than a vain attempt to get every other country in the world to come begging to Donald Trump for mercy. Which isn’t going to happen.

Warren Buffett’s annual shareholders letters are always a must-read. The honesty, clarity, and striking humility of his prose stands out in a world where corporate communications — from companies of any size — tend to be bland and obfuscating. This year’s letter, published back in February, is no exception. Two sections stood out to me. First, in a section titled “Mistakes — Yes, We Make Them at Berkshire”:

Sometimes I’ve made mistakes in assessing the future economics of a business I’ve purchased for Berkshire — each a case of capital allocation gone wrong. That happens with both judgments about marketable equities — we view these as partial ownership of businesses — and the 100% acquisitions of companies.

At other times, I’ve made mistakes when assessing the abilities or fidelity of the managers Berkshire is hiring. The fidelity disappointments can hurt beyond their financial impact, a pain that can approach that of a failed marriage.

A decent batting average in personnel decisions is all that can be hoped for. The cardinal sin is delaying the correction of mistakes or what Charlie Munger called “thumb-sucking.” Problems, he would tell me, cannot be wished away. They require action, however uncomfortable that may be.

During the 2019-23 period, I have used the words “mistake” or “error” 16 times in my letters to you. Many other huge companies have never used either word over that span. Amazon, I should acknowledge, made some brutally candid observations in its 2021 letter. Elsewhere, it has generally been happy talk and pictures.

I have also been a director of large public companies at which “mistake” or “wrong” were forbidden words at board meetings or analyst calls. That taboo, implying managerial perfection, always made me nervous (though, at times, there could be legal issues that make limited discussion advisable. We live in a very litigious society.)

At 94, it won’t be long before Greg Abel replaces me as CEO and will be writing the annual letters. Greg shares the Berkshire creed that a “report” is what a Berkshire CEO annually owes to owners. And he also understands that if you start fooling your shareholders, you will soon believe your own baloney and be fooling yourself as well.

As the great physicist Richard Feynman said, “The first principle is that you must not fool yourself and you are the easiest person to fool.”

Second is an entire section, not complaining, but instead proudly declaring, that last year Berkshire set the record for the highest single-year corporate income tax payment in United States history:

Huge numbers can be hard to visualize. Let me recast the $26.8 billion that we paid last year.

If Berkshire had sent the Treasury a $1 million check every 20 minutes throughout all of 2024 — visualize 366 days and nights because 2024 was a leap year — we still would have owed the federal government a significant sum at yearend. Indeed, it would be well into January before the Treasury would tell us that we could take a short breather, get some sleep, and prepare for our 2025 tax payments. [...]

Berkshire’s activities now impact all corners of our country. And we are not finished. Companies die for many reasons but, unlike the fate of humans, old age itself is not lethal. Berkshire today is far more youthful than it was in 1965.

However, as Charlie and I have always acknowledged, Berkshire would not have achieved its results in any locale except America whereas America would have been every bit the success it has been if Berkshire had never existed.

So thank you, Uncle Sam. Someday your nieces and nephews at Berkshire hope to send you even larger payments than we did in 2024. Spend it wisely. Take care of the many who, for no fault of their own, get the short straws in life. They deserve better. And never forget that we need you to maintain a stable currency and that result requires both wisdom and vigilance on your part.

Again, that was written back in February. Prescient as always.