It’s like The Twilight Zone in Palm Beach: a man whose greatest desire in life is relevancy grows more irrelevant each time he opens his mouth. And he can’t shut up.

Such is the pickle that Donald Trump—de-platformed but logorrheic as ever—finds himself in. This week, a day before Facebook re-instituted its ban of his account, Trump rolled out a new blog on his Web site, a dumping ground for the erratic press releases he’s been beaming out since leaving office. Will anyone care? For five years his every utterance was A1-worthy; now he can’t even make the papers when he dials into Fox News. He called Mitch McConnell a “dumb son of a bitch” to a roomful of donors and couldn’t scrape more than half a news cycle out of it. Trump is a Gloria Gaynor record at Comiskey Park in 1979—nobody wants to hear it.