Hot & Not in Hollywood

BELA & Covfefe’s Fried Drumstick Diplomacy

They met in an unpresidented typo. They bonded over incoherence. And they ruled the timeline like a gold-plated Roomba stuck in a lunacy loop. BELA and Covfefe are the gilded mascots of Trump’s social media empire: loud, wrong, and inexplicably trending.

Once upon a midnight tweet, Trump typed “covfefe” and hit send. No context. No correction. Just raw, unfiltered keyboard chaos. The tweet was deleted, but the damage was permanent. Covfefe became the national bird of post-truth America: flightless, confusing, and somehow still squawking.

Enter BELA: Bigly Ego, Low Acuity. It’s not just an acronym. It’s a condition. A vibe. A lifestyle.

BELA is what happens when you confuse volume with intelligence and spell “genius” with a silent “J.” Like curling on a tarmac dressed in a red carpet for a frightened mic trying to manifest a President with better syntax.

Together, BELA and Covfefe are the Bonnie and Clyde of brain fog. One screams nonsense, the other misspells it. They’re the perfect couple. They are married, unburdened by facts, grammar, or the concept of consequences. They honeymooned in a typo. They go hand-in-hand, just like when Trump’s mouth shoots himself in the foot in prime time. Priceless.

Trump’s feed wasn’t a communication tool. It was a Roomba with a megaphone, circling the Oval Office, shouting misspelled executive orders into the palm of conspiracy theory and paranoia. It wasn’t magnetic; it was a one-man, tripping pandemic toasting to himself with fried drumsticks and Diet Coke.

In the end, BELA and Covfefe didn’t break the internet. They just made it scratch and Google: “Can fleas run for office?”

~ * ~ Stay tuned, stay savage, stay sparkly — Holly out. ~ * ~