26 fucking points.

That's the freefall. Plus 6 in January 2025. Minus 20 right now. Harry Enten put it on the big screen at CNN News Central and the festering creamsicle's approval has gone through the floor, through the basement, through the bedrock, and is currently somewhere south of the Mariana Trench politely tapping a confused anglerfish on the shoulder asking for directions back to relevance.

Plus 6. Minus 6. Minus 9. Minus 14. Minus 15. Minus 20.

That's not a trend line. That's a fucking suicide note in chart form. That's the polling equivalent of watching some drongo douse himself in avgas, strike a match, and then sue the fire department for emotional damages.

Here's the kicker, the bit that should keep every Republican strategist awake at 3am sucking down warm bourbon. He hasn't hit the bottom yet. There is no bottom. There's just more falling. Every week another public disembowelling - the Beijing handshake, the Epstein Files, the price of beef, the price of eggs, the price of petrol, the price of being governed by a wheezing pumpkin with a clipboard.

The American public, in their own plodding way, have finally worked out what every bastard on this side of common fucking sense could smell three years ago. The bloke's a fraud. The bloke's a grifter. The bloke's a 800-year-old decaying conman in a borrowed suit who couldn't sell a glass of water to a bushfire victim.

Minus 20 and counting.

Keep digging, sunshine.