This week’s news reads like an issue of Mad Magazine, guest edited by H.P Lovecraft after an allergic reaction to bad shellfish. If you’re reading this blog near other people, you may want to keep a pillow handy, to scream into.

Well, Hairplug Himmler isn’t going to let a silly little thing like “torturing an American citizen to death” undermine his bromance with murderous autocrat Kim Jong-un. Responding to a report that Kim’s murdered half-brother was a CIA informant, the Dotard swore he’d never ever let the big bad United States spy on his little buddy like that again.

Anyway, to any rogue regimes who may be reading my humble poo joke blog, if you happen to be illicitly developing weapons that can snuff out tens of thousands of human lives in an instant, take comfort in knowing that in exchange for an insincere compliment or two, the President of the United States of America will merrily suspend intelligence-gathering operations in your nation. It seems to be literally as simple as sending a fucking birthday card.

Shout out to Jon Stewart, who successfully shamed the House Judiciary Committee into passing a bill to extend the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund. It’s amazing what a platform and a little brutally clear communication can do. Maybe if we can get Jerry Seinfeld to do a tight five on treason, we can have our motherfucking country back.

Republican Congressthief Kevin Brady, one of the architects of the GOP tax scam which remains the Marmalade Shartcannon’s sole significant legislative achievement, issued a tiny, barely-worth-mentioning, correction regarding the bill’s alleged fiscal responsibility: “Look, when we said the tax cuts would pay for themselves OBVIOUSLY we meant that to mean ‘strictly in terms of plutocrat donations to their pet political party.’ And looking at my re-election fund, those cuts have TOTALLY paid for themselves. Suckers.”

Justin Amash broke up with House Freedom Caucus, saying, “It’s not you, it’s not me, it’s the rule of law, so wait, basically yeah, it’s you.” Poor Justin thought the FC was devoted his specific brand of insanity, while it turns out the Jim Jordans of the world are happy to roll around into whatever shitpile happens to be handy, and if that’s Trumpist authoritarianism, well so be it. While Amash has taken custody of all the caucus’ dignity in the split, he concedes it’s unlikely he’ll ever get his White Lion t-shirt back.

While numerous American industries suffer under the Sunny D-Bag’s idiot trade war, the migrant child concentration camp industry is absolutely booming. So much so, in fact, that the Crotchworm Administration is reopening Fort Sill, a WWII-era Japanese internment camp, to torture a fresh new generation of kids othered by a racist federal government. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that this twisted little bit of malevolent symbolism was all Stephen Miller asked his boss for for his birthday this year.

Hey I bet you think that’s the vilest border-related story in tonight’s blog. I mean, it’s pretty goddamn disgusting.

Care to put some money on that?

You remember that one Border Patrol thug, excuse me, “agent” who is facing charges stemming from the time he tried to murder a migrant with his truck? Well, he’s back in the news today on account of his defense attorney working to suppress his horrific, dehumanizing, bigoted-as-fuck, text messages at trial. I guess when your client’s casual work banter is indistinguishable from Nazi rhetoric, you’d rather the jury didn’t know about it. Oh, and part of the defense strategy appears to be “everyone at Border Patrol is this racist, so no big deal, right?” Sleep tight.

Now you’re thinking, “Surely that’s the worst exhibit Trump’s Atrocity Carnival has to offer this week. Surely.”  

Double or nothing, then?

Because we haven’t even mentioned the story about the teenage mother and her premature baby detained in appalling conditions. We haven’t talked about the “facility” in El Paso described as “a human dog pound.” Do we even have the strength to imagine all the evil these fuckers have successfully concealed from us?

Take a minute to read those stories, folks. Get a beer, have a cry. We’ll do a couple cheap gags when you’re ready, I guess.

Look, it’s tough pretending to be something you’re not, and Mike Flynn is sick and tired of acting like a more or less reasonable human being, when in his heart of hearts, he is such a demented wingnut maniac that he doesn’t even get invited to Breitbart parties anymore, because he keeps cornering children to talk to them about QAnon. To that end, hiring batguano-gargling loon Sidney Powell as his new attorney is really just Flynn being his best self; trouble is, his “best self” is completely insane, unrepentantly corrupt, and just generally shitty.

Admit it, you’d completely forgotten about Howard Schultz’s misguided “presidential campaign” until he popped up this week to suspend it. Of course, he’s still threatening to bring his signature brand of boring, antagonistic, centrism back if Democratic primary voters don’t vote the way he wants them to. God, he’s like a Scooby Doo villain, vowing, as he’s led away in handcuffs, to return when we least expect it.

“It’s old man Schultz, from the bland, characterless, coffee chain!”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if weren’t for my complete and total lack of ideas, political instincts, and charisma!”

Tangerine Idi Amin, in a feeble attempt to discredit Don McGahn’s damning testimony in the Mueller report, suggested his former White House Counsel lied under oath “to make himself look like a good lawyer,” and you can almost forgive the doddering old bloat for making such a baseless accusation, since “lying to make yourself seem awesome when you’re actually just a wobbly stack of hot garbage in a bad wig” is the story of literally every single minute of his rotten, wasted, life.

Of course, the bigger headline out of that Stephanapoulos interview was the bit where the Bonespur Buttplug went “Hell to tha Yeah I’d accept foreign help for my re-election! I need all the help I can get, bro, have you watched me campaign? I rant like a damaged clone of Nathan Bedford Forrest in the advanced stages of dementia! I couldn’t do it by myself last time, and I sure shit can’t now that everybody’s seen how I actually govern! Seriously, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Chad, anybody, CALL ME!”

And Marsha Blackburn, eager to finally bring her famous brand of lunatic partisanship to the upper chamber, blocked Mark Warner’s bill, which would require campaigns to contact the FBI if any foreign power pops by to say “Hey, kid, wanna buy some treason?” Two fun things about the politics of 2019:

A) We’re starting to write all the laws we never thought we’d need because even 240 years’ worth of crooked-ass politicians couldn’t imagine the fuckery a moral black hole like Donald Trump would attempt.

B) We’re learning that Republican Party isn’t willing support those laws. NEAT.

And Government Cheese Goebbels is particularly desperate for extralegal campaign support these days, with his own internal polling revealing the precise dimensions of the massive can of electoral whoop-ass Diamond Joe Biden would unleash on him in a head-to-head matchup. When you’re shouting “fake news” at your own propaganda apparatus, you’re in trouble.

I hope you can all attend the opening of my new play, Five Wrinkly-Ass Old White Dudes, Sitting Around Outlawing Abortion, about the city council in Whogivesafuck, Texas, and their dumbfuck quest to create a “sanctuary city for the unborn.” I debated even bringing this one up tonight, but you know what they say…all politics is yokel BAM TIP YOUR WAIT STAFF.

A government watchdog recommended Kellyanne Conway be fired for her repeated, taunting violations of the Hatch Act, which is an entirely reasonable response to serial, unapologetic, law-breaking. Regrettably, in perhaps the most depressing commentary yet on the shit-encrusted state of our beautiful democracy, literally no one anywhere on Earth imagined Conway would be fired, or, indeed, face any consequences whatsoever. Literally mocked the law, live on camera, and won’t even lose her fucking parking space.

Duncan Hunter’s wife flipped on him so hard he’ll have to call her “Rick Gates” in bed from now on. Although, now that Margaret is cooperating with prosecutors against her husband, I imagine the Walls of Jericho have gone up in the Hunter household.

While the Pneumatic Poo Dispenser’s unhinged tweetstorms have become significantly less newsworthy now that we’ve learned to dismiss them as the deranged rantings of a never-particularly-potent-and-now-rapidly-deteriorating intellect, I would be remiss in my duties if I failed to mark the one about the “Prince of Whales.” Y’know, in the three years since he started pissing directly into our brains every hour of every day, this is the first thing he’s ever said or written to bring me the slightest bit of delight, if only accidentally. The Prince of Whales? Oh, didn’t he show up on Super Friends that one time Aquaman was visiting his sick grandma?

Look, if you want to read about the latest developments in the field of issuing and dodging subpoenas, or holding contempt votes, or whatever other procedural shenanigans are going down in Congress, you’ll have to write your own jokes, because, as I have expressed previously, Jerry Nadler shufflin’ papers around just isn’t funny. Take, for example, “DOJ releases legal opinion supporting Treasury refusal to turn over Trump tax returns.” Important? Surely. Funny? I can’t find it. I’ll drink more and get back to you.

On that subject, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet is invoking executive privilege to avoid coughing up documents related to his shitsack administration’s attempt to apply Crest Whitening Strips to the 2020 Census. It goes without saying that there’s no legal standing to do that, it’s just something he likes shouting because he thinks it’s this magical power presidents get to call upon to get out of anything they don’t want to do, from eating their peas to obeying the Constitution.

And Sarah Huckleberry Slanders surveyed her labors of the last two years, and said unto herself, “Though I delight in my work, bringing George Orwell’s darkest nightmares to life, I must admit that I’ve single-handedly done more damage to the American experiment than all our nation’s wartime foes put together. Perhaps it’s time I retired to Arkansas, to pursue my lifelong dream of conducting unregulated cosmetics research at a puppy mill of my very own.” And so she is taking her sneering mendacity and going home.

In all our storied history, few have failed at being American quite so badly as the Uncredible Huck. Sarah, I wish you insufficient legroom on all your flights. May your DVR perpetually record over your favorite programs with post-Topher-Grace episodes That 70’s Show. You deserve ingrown toenails and root canals and rush hour traffic, but above all other torments, may you be subjected to your fuckstick father’s unique blend of hate speech and dad jokes for the rest of your days.

Mike Pompeo practically tripped over his own feet to blame Iran for an attack on two tankers in the Gulf of Oman, though the owner of one of the ships disputes Mike’s please-oh-please-let-me-start-a-war-can-I-can-I-can-I account. It’s way too early to figure out who’s telling the truth here, but hey, maybe the Treasonweasel Administration should’ve read the Boy Who Cried Wolf before they decided to burn their credibility on stupid shit like crowd size and crying farmers.

As he ramps up his re-election campaign, Weehands McNodick is returning to his roots, and refusing to pay folks for services rendered. In this case, it’s mostly local police departments the law-and-order candidate is stiffing, and if nothing else, that should add some interesting justification contortions for his faux evangelical base to grapple with. Shit, he still hasn’t paid Washington D.C. back for his (hilariously, pathetically, under-attended) inauguration. Our secret weapon in 2020 may wind up being the People the President Personally Owes Money To vote.

The Shart House decided that what Flag Day really needed was a pic of Sultan Spraytan dry-humping Old Glory, just to really drive home his instinctual disrespect of the United States and all her cherished symbols. On Independence Day, expect him to waddle over to the Lincoln Memorial just to rub his ass all over Honest Abe’s leg.

I have to confess, as I was driven to the very edge of sanity by all this incompetence and malice, I was profoundly grateful to stumble across Louise Linton’s latest flailing attempt at rehabbing her Bond villainess image. God love her, as she rolls around in the money her maggot-souled vulture capitalist husband “earned” foreclosing on decent people’s homes, as she dines with the Queen of England while children rot in cages, she’s still fantasizing about some 21st century Leni Riefenstahl elevating her to her unjustly-delayed stardom. She is a truly magnificent monster.

Speaking of the Garbage Women behind the Garbage Men, there seems to be an effort underway to cast Melania as some sort of Fascist Jackie O? I don’t really care, do u?

Oh, and I guess it’s Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops’ birthday. I think I speak for all American patriots when I say I hope the extra ice cream gives you tummy pain. I was gonna get you a cake, but why don’t you eat ALL THE SHIT instead. 

Holy hell I’m in a bad mood now. I dunno, something about watching my government torture children really BUMS ME OUT. Anyhow, it’d cheer me up if everybody reading this could bite and scratch and claw and fight with every ounce of their strength to win this country back from these awful, awful, people.