VIDEO: Trump's $100-Billion, Dementia Laden Pitch To Oil Executives Last Week, Smelled Like Shit. Literally.

Inside Trump’s Oil-Exec Summit: Venezuela, Greenland, a Hole in the Ground—and a Meeting That Went Completely Off the Rails Because Trump Can't Stop Shittimg Himself.

January 11, 2025

There are bad meetings. There are chaotic meetings. And then there are meetings so profoundly unmoored from reality that the people in the room leave wondering who shit themselves and whether they’ve just attended a policy summit or a live-taped episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm: Petrostate/Diaper Stank Edition.

Last week’s White House oil-executive gathering—chaired by Donald Trump, broadcast for television, and apparently designed to strong-arm Big Oil into coughing up $100 billion—was the third kind.

It was supposed to be a sales pitch.
It became a spectacle.
It ended as a case study in how not to run a country—or a meeting, and some of the CEO’s in attendance can’t stop talking about Trump’s stank, mental decline, and how stupid he really is. Like when one executive blamed him for Venezuelan sanctions in 2019 and had to remind President Shit For Brains that it was his sanctions that forced his company (Haliburton) to leave in the first place, 2019.

(Note how far away Vance and Rubio are from Trump…more on that later)

The Setup: Big Oil, Big Cameras, Bigger Delusions

The invite list alone told you this wasn’t going to be subtle. America’s largest oil companies, lined up in the White House like nervous contestants on The Apprentice, were there to hear Trump’s latest master plan: Venezuela is back, baby—and they were going to pay for it.

The pitch was simple, in Trump terms:

• Venezuela’s oil fields are open

• The U.S. will “handle” the politics

• Sanctions? History

• Risk? Gone

• Profits? Enormous

• Buy-in required: $100 billion

All of it delivered live, with cameras rolling, because nothing says “serious capital allocation” like a televised pressure campaign.

Reality Intrudes: Exxon Says the Quiet Part Out Loud

Then something unexpected happened.

An adult entered the conversation.

Darren Woods, the CEO of ExxonMobil, did what oil executives almost never do in public: he told the truth.

Venezuela, Woods said—politely, clinically, unmistakably—is uninvestable.

Not “challenging.”
Not “complicated.”
Uninvestable.

Decades of expropriation. Legal chaos. Political instability. No rule of law. No guarantees that contracts mean anything longer than a dictator’s mood swing.

The room reportedly went quiet.
The pitch cracked in half.

And Trump… did not take it well.

The Salesman Spirals

From that moment on, the meeting began to unravel in real time.

Trump doubled down. He rambled. He insisted the risk would be handled. He waved away history. He pivoted to threats. He pivoted again to flattery. He pivoted again to grievance.

At one point, according to multiple attendees, he stood up abruptly, interrupted himself mid-sentence, and announced—more than once—how beautiful the view was.

The view, for the record, was a hole in the ground.

Specifically: the construction pit where the East Wing used to be.

“Wow,” he reportedly said.
“What a view.”
“This is the door to the ballroom.”

This happened more than once.

Executives exchanged looks. Cameras kept rolling. No one knew what to say.

When Venezuela Wasn’t Enough, He Threatened Greenland

As if pitching a failed petro-state wasn’t ambitious enough, Trump decided to sweeten the deal with some light imperialism.

Greenland came up.

Again.

Trump repeated his familiar line: the U.S. would get Greenland “the easy way or the hard way.” Venezuela, he suggested, was an example of the hard way.

For clarity:

• Greenland belongs to Denmark

• Denmark is in NATO

• NATO includes the U.S.

• Threatening allies at an oil meeting is… not normal

But normal had already left the room.

The executives, there to discuss capital investment, were now being briefed on territorial acquisition via coercion, apparently as a bonus feature.

The Rubio Note Incident (Yes, Really)

Then came the moment that turned confusion into outright farce.

During the press portion of the meeting, Marco Rubio slid Trump a private note. Trump—apparently unaware that notes are meant to be read privately—picked it up and read it aloud.

The note referenced Exxon’s CEO's request for a follow-up meeting after the cameras were off.

Trump froze. Read the note aloud. Rubio breathed deeply. Trump had a verbal seizure.

Witnesses say he visibly struggled to process what had just happened: that a private communication had been exposed, on camera, and that Exxon was trying to exit the spectacle with its dignity intact.

He looked confused.
Then angry.
Then distracted again.

The fourth stage of dementia is the end stage, btw.

The Smell No One Can Ignore

Several executives—separately, and with remarkable consistency—described the atmosphere in the room as physically unbearable.

According to those present, Trump:

• Repeatedly stood up without warning

• Appeared uncomfortable

And, yes, farted (or shit himself) at least a dozen times

More than one attendee used the phrase “absolutely foul.”

One said he “farted at least a dozen times.”
Another speculated he may have soiled himself.
The repeated standing suddenly made sense.

This is not gossip.
This is what the people in the room are saying—quietly, afterward, with the kind of stunned tone reserved for events you can’t quite believe happened.

Why This Matters (Beyond the Absurdity)

It would be easy—tempting, even—to laugh this off as another Trump freak show. And yes, it is funny, in a bleak, late-empire way.

But it’s also dangerous.

This was:

• A live foreign-policy negotiation

• A capital-allocation pressure campaign

• A signal to allies and adversaries alike

And it was conducted like a reality show audition gone wrong.

Oil executives didn’t hear stability.
They heard chaos.

Allies didn’t hear leadership.
They heard threats.

Markets didn’t see confidence.
They saw a man unraveling on camera, clinging to delusions and construction pits as he shit himself, wandering around the room like an Alzheimer's patient looking for his keys, only to return with a jar of pickles and a plan to invade Greenland.

The Takeaway: The Room Knew

Here’s the part that sticks:

Every executive in that room knew the deal was dead before it began.

They knew Venezuela wasn’t investable.
They knew Greenland wasn’t for sale.
They knew the pitch was theater.
They knew the cameras mattered more than the math.

And they knew—by the end—that they were watching a presidency collapse into self-parody, one awkward stand-up and one lingering smell at a time.

History will record the policy failures.

But the people in that room will remember something else entirely:

A $100-billion fantasy.
A hole in the ground.
And a meeting that will live forever in whispered disbelief while Trump shat his pants looking for an exit.