Photo: Gregory Shamus (Getty Images)

There are only a few things on which we can depend in Trump’s America: Every morning we will be greeted by increasingly stupid tweets, we will go to war, and 26-year-old Cleveland Cavaliers star Tristan Thompson will cheat on his baby mama in her third trimester.

Thompson has been in a whirlwind love affair with the taller Kardashian for a few years now. I only know this because every facet of Kardashian life is packaged, videotaped, edited, photographed, photoshopped, Instagrammed and tweeted. The gravitational pull of the reality-show social media filter is so strong that it is impossible not to know about the relationship between the power forward for the Cavaliers and the power forward for the Kardashians.

The Kardashian press factory tried to get us to swoon over photos of the pair wearing fur coats. There’s the couple, half-naked, kissing each other. There’s the pregnant Kardashian being loved up by her baller boyfriend. There’s the family photo of the entire clan wearing Thompson jerseys at Cavalier games. And there are the cameras—always around, always filming and documenting their love.

The truth is that none of us knows the truth, and that’s the problem with the dream of the Kardashians: It’s never been real. No matter how much you inject, pull, snatch, alter, cut, fix, adjust, taper, nip, tuck or snip the pieces of the Kardashians together to have us believe that all of the Kardashians are actually part Armenian, they aren’t because we’ve seen the photos and videos. We all know some truth and we are complicit in the Kardashian-crafted lie.

What we do know is this: Thompson had a woman, a pregnant woman, when he hooked up with Khloé Kardashian. And now Thompson has women, several women, while his current woman is pregnant. Do you see a pattern here?

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Thompson is currently averaging more side chicks than points or rebounds because this is kind of what Thompson does. The best part is watching his 6-foot-10-inch ass try to play small, as if that isn’t him bending to fit into the doorway of a New York City hotel accompanied by a woman with a booty the size of a sideways watermelon.

Come on, son. You played yourself, and more importantly you played a Kardashian, and we all know that there is no coming back from this. But I did find one tweet rather interesting from a sports perspective:

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No one deserves to be cheated on. When Khloé Kardashian goes to sleep on her bed made of millions held up by the thick thighs and round buttocks of the black women she uses for spare parts, I hope she sleeps well. Her life will be fine until she glamours the next black baller with her white gaze and he falls into the Kardashian web.

Perhaps Tristan Thompson has sacrificed himself for the good of the team. While he might not be the kind of player Khloé Kardashian wanted for a baby daddy, he might just be the kind of selfless player the Cavaliers need.

Having said all of this, I wouldn’t put my money on the Cleveland Cavaliers just yet. If we have learned anything from Reggie Bush’s knee, Ray J’s discography, Pepsi’s commercials and Kanye’s empty stare, it’s that the Kardashians always win. Their men? Not so much.

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As Donald Trump and Tristan Thompson always say: “If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.”

At least Thompson’s trying.

Editor’s note: A previous version of this post had an insensitive tone regarding Khloé Kardashian’s size. Stephen says he is not a height supremacist and is appropriately sorry.