Well, it’s a three day weekend, so there’s only as much scandal as 7 years worth of the Obama presidency this time ‘round. It was actually the Tan Suitiversary a few days back, and by God, if we could survive that, we’ll get through this whole “fascist criminal assaulting the very pillars of democracy” thing.

The Marmalade Shartcannon celebrated Labor Day by sending Mike Pants to Poland to do his job for him. He claimed he needed to stay home and monitor Hurricane Dorian, but because he is the Sociopath Who Cried Empathy, not one living soul believed that shit. And indeed, the lazy old fuck just went golfing (on our dime) again. It’s like when you call in sick to work and run into your boss at the mall, only your boss is the entire American public. Anyway, the next president should be capable of working two consecutive weekends, says I.

This is, of course, the second trip abroad he’s cancelled in recent weeks on account of his Garfield-esque sloth. I’m sure the Poles, old, vital, allies, will understand that while the relationship between our two nations is certainly important, sometimes it must take a back seat to the truly crucial things, like wallowing in a pile of your own filth while rage-tweeting at a sitcom actor.

Getting back to Mikey Hairshirt’s European Vacation real quick, the Vice President is in Ireland today, and even though his business is, of course, in Dublin, he’s staying at Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s tacky-ass golf resort on the other side of the island, because we can’t pass up any opportunity to line the boss’ pockets with taxpayer money, can we?

Lots of folks enjoyed a laugh at Shart Garfunkel’s expense, when he said he’d never even heard of a category 5 storm before, even though Dorian is the fourth to threaten the U.S. during his term. And yeah, it is kind of funny until you remember this KFC Famous Bowl mash-up of apathy, idiocy, and rapid mental deterioration gets to make dozens of decisions with the potential to reshape human history every single day.

Another way the Die Plebs Die Administration celebrated the holiday was by watching the latest bonehead round of tariffs kick in! It makes perfect sense; see, now you’ll have to put in much more LABOR just to make ends meet, because Donnie Dotard’s Idiot Trade War looks to cost the American consumer an extra $1,000 this year! Maybe he’s hoping that we’ll all be too broke to donate to his 2020 opponent? Fuck that, I’m willing to forgo an avocado toast here and there.

Now, as hard as the trade war is on most of us, it’s much worse for American farmers, who are watching their markets vanish like a promised charitable donation from Donald Trump. But I guess the heartland isn’t choking to death quickly enough for Tangerine Idi Amin, so he’s granted waivers from ethanol requirements to the fossil oil industry that will put an extra boot on corn farmers’ necks. Welcome to the list of shit we need to put back together, folks, and welcome to the Resistance.

For a guy who’s so fond of creepy cartoon images that make him look like a pro wrestler rather the engorged tick he is, Weehands McNodick sure is a coward. How big a coward? Well, he’s apparently afraid of the contents of a fucking museum. Yes, back when he decided to contaminate the National Museum of African American History and Culture with his presence, he asked to be kept away from any exhibits he might have found “difficult,” and since we’re talking about a guy who finds closing an umbrella “difficult,” that rules out everything but the hand dryers in the restrooms. And, because his “brand” is equal parts hate and tackiness*, he responded to an exhibit about the Dutch role in the global slave trade by boasting about his popularity in the Netherlands. (And not that it’s really the point here, but of course he’s despised in the Netherlands.)

Overcompensated Windbag Bret Stephens devoted his career to decrying the general snowflakiness of safe-space-seeking liberals, until a private citizen with zero clout and a functionally nonexistent platform called him a “bedbug” on Twitter, and then Bret Stephens realized that he was the victim of a second Holocaust, and frankly, since none of the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis had a column in the New York Times, this one was probably a bigger deal. Stephens, who tried to get a stranger fired over a small joke on internet, is many things; a ridiculous hypocrite, a pompous ass, and yes, above all things else, an absolute fuckin’ BEDBUG.

Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is pissed at Emmanuel Macron for offering to help put out fires in the Amazon, so he’s shouting from atop the highest pile of resentment in all the land that he will no longer use Bic pens, because they are French, and holy shit, this brat runs a whole country. Were authoritarians always so childishly petty? Don’t answer that, I just remembered freedom fries.

Head of the Let’s Keep Fucking Everything Up Initiative, or, as it is colloquially known, the Trump 2020 campaign, Brad Parscale seems to be stuffing himself at the dark money super PAC trough, surprise surprise. Folks, everyone around Donald Trump, every single crooked one of them, is a thirsty parasite looking to suck up whatever they possibly can before the inevitable catastrophic conclusion of this political Frankenjackass experiment. For the overwhelming majority of them, it’s mostly just money; for Stephen Miller, well, he’s gonna get as close to genocide as he possibly can.

There was a Dickless Loser Parade in Boston, which naturally descended into violence. Wait, excuse me, I’m being told this was actually self-labeled, by its own organizers, a “Straight Pride” parade. Personally, I can barely live with myself when I do shit that embarrassing in public, like, I pissed my pants once at a day care center, and I haven’t been back there since. It’s been like, 35 years. I think I left a stuffed brontosaurus in my crate.

And yes, yet another enraged white male armed with yet another assault rifle inflicted yet another tragic mass shooting on our poor, bleeding, country. I guess the guy just got fired from his job, and because he was able to get his hands on a weapon of war, instead of just having a shitty day and moving on with his life, he drove around a couple of Texas towns, randomly murdering strangers until law enforcement shot him dead.

This will happen again, of course. It doesn’t have to, but it will. Overwhelming majorities of Americans want to take the obvious, COMMON FUCKING SENSE steps necessary to stop this senseless epidemic, but one of our nation’s political parties remains fanatically devoted to watering Wayne LaPierre’s lawn with the blood of children, so apologies in advance to the victims of the next shooting, and the next, and the next, that lawn requires a whole lotta innocent blood, and it ain’t gonna water itself.

Texas Congressjag Matt Schaefer got righteously indignant at the thought that anyone would dare interfere in God’s plan and actually try to PREVENT mass shootings rather than pray for the victims after the slaughter. Matty my lad, I am not a religious man, but I can say with certainty that if there is a heaven, there will not be one single NRA stooge politician there.

And because Republicans are insane, mere hours after Texas’ second mass-shooting in a month, a fresh new fleet of dumbfuck statewide gun laws, not restricting but loosening access, went into effect. Now it’s easier to be armed in schools and houses of worship, that’ll fuckin’ fix it, boys! Why don’t y’all just cut to the chase and replace every sidewalk in the state with trenches and barbed wire?

The Failing New York Times published a nice little deep dive into how Kim Jong-un keeps on exploiting his natural talent for playing Strawberry Shartcake’s frail ego like a grade-school kid’s recorder, expanding North Korea’s missile arsenal to threaten more and more American bases, and getting handjobs and challenge coins from the American President in return. It’s like playing Risk with a Hot Pocket.

And in the best news in quite some time, public pressure forced the Let’s See How Much Evil Shit We Can Get Away With Administration to back down from their plan to deport immigrants undergoing life-saving medical treatment, at least for now. But never forget you’re dealing with rat bastards who have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into letting sick children stay alive, and never, EVER, take your eyes off them, for even a minute.

Alright, yeah, it’s a bit light tonight, but it’s a holiday. Go get yourself a beer and a brat. Or better yet, get ME a beer and a brat. Wait a second, I already have a beer and a brat. But I’ll need more soon.

*And that’s a lotta tackiness, folks.