Please Let the Door Hit You On the Way Out, Spicey

Fucking hell, campers.

The news is nuttier than squirrel poop these days. If the squirrel was like, a government lab test squirrel, administered copious amounts of LSD.

Well, we don’t have Spicy Sean to kick around anymore. He has finally been pushed too far, and he’s taking his stolen mini-fridge and going home. There was a brief temptation to pity this tiny, soulless, little man, who shipwrecked his hard-won reputation on the treacherous shores of the Drumpf Administration…but then you remember that he was an eager collaborator to the team of petty crooks who do their damndest daily to blow up our democracy and wipe their hemorrhoid-encrusted asses with our Constiution…so yeah, fuck him.

So, Sean Spicer, as you embark on this next chapter of your life, I wish you ingrown toenails and post office lines. May you be shunned from decent company for the rest of your days. May every Snickers bar turn to a warm cat turd in your mouth. May the man in the mirror each morning remind you of your crimes. When you get to the afterlife, Sean, know that George Washington will be waiting for you, and he’s going to kick you right in the junk.

So over the weekend we met the new Shart House communications director, Ray Liotta cosplayer Anthony Scaramucci. (I’m not gonna make the obligatory Queen joke, because low-hanging fruit is for CUCKS.)

Scaramucci wasted no time engaging in the obligatory ass-kissing ritual. Now SCROTUS is some sort of super-athlete who throws a “perfect spiral” (If Baron Golfin Von Fatfuk can throw a “perfect spiral” I’ll let Jeff Sessions crash on my couch after his collaborating ass gets fired, by the way.) and like, swats biplanes out of the air and taught Mike Trout how to play center field.

The Mooch was apparently not a popular choice among existing staffers, what with his No Relevant Experience Whatsoever. Not only did Spicey run away to hide in less-manicured bushes, but Reince Pubis has been sidelined even further, spending most of his days acting as Chief of Staff to a small collection of Star Wars legos he bought on his lunch break one day after H.R. McMaster gave him a particularly aggressive wedgie. Word is even Steve “Darth Wino” Bannon told Anthony he’d get the job “over my dead body.” Got your hopes up for a minute, didn’t it?

The President’s Loyal Huntin’ Dawg, Beauregard, certainly doesn’t get to sleep at the foot of the bed these days. Not only did the Washington Post report that he seems to have lied to congress when he was attempting to cover his ass for lying to congress about something else, but it seems his Idiot Manchild boss throws regular tantrums about ol’ Beau recusing himself rather than transforming the United States Justice Department into Drumpfy’s personal, taxpayer-funded, justice-obstructin’ traveling jug band.

So reports claim Team Shart is working on pushing Sessions out, and replacing him with Rotten-Toothed Hate Monster Rudy Giuliani, or maybe Ted Cruz, or perhaps just a Teddy Ruxpin doll with a tape that fires Robert Mueller and Rod Rosenstein, and then plays the “Na na na na, say hey hey” song on loop for twenty minutes.

(Now, there’s a lot of serious shit going down these days, but the moment when Jeff Sessions’ career finally ends in scandal and betrayal is rapidly approaching, and I’m gonna celebrate that moment with a chocolate cupcake dropped into a mop bucket full of scotch when it comes. Don’t tell Bannon.)

Word is, Rex Tillerson is thinkin’ about quittin’ his post at State because somehow he’s the last human being on Planet Earth who has noticed that Donald J Trump (The “J” stands for “I’m So Old and Gross Even Hookers Won’t Touch My Pee-pee Anymore”) treats everyone who works for him like so many flushable floaters. Stay or go, Rex, you’ll never wash the stink off.

And the House passed a big Russia sanctions bill that the Marmalade Shartcannon definitely did not want. When Uncle Vlad sees this, he’s gonna send Donnie to military school just like the real dad that never loved him and thus got the whole fucking world into this mess in the first place. Certainly there will be no pee hookers for the foreseeable future.

I guess the Senate GOP got ahold of some black market ground rhino horn, mashed it up in a batch of Purple Drank in John Cornyn’s office, starting snorting Adderall off Johnny Isakson’s ass, and decided to hold a bunch of last-ditch health care votes tomorrow.

Who cares if the Senate Parliamentarian is stripping amendments left and right? Who cares if everyone has to eventually face a constituency whipped up into a rage over being, y’know, MURDERED BY THEIR SENATORS, it’s fucking Spring Break at the Koch Brothers’ Beach Resort, where we hunt the poor for sport and pour mimosas out of the IV bags that won’t carry life-saving medication because the DUMBASS PLEBES CAN’T FUCKING AFFORD IT WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!?!?!??!?!

Now, Mitch McConnell won’t tell anybody exactly what it’s in the bill they’ll be voting for. Maybe it’s the House bill. Maybe it’s straight repeal. Maybe it’s Ted Cruz in pasties and a g-string. Whatever it is, it’s gonna kill thousands of Americans, and we’re relying on Rob Portman’s decency to deliver us…FUCK.

Texas Congressdoorstop Blake Farenthold blamed the troubles the GOP’s Rube Goldberg Murder Machine, excuse me “Health Care Bill,” keeps running into on those awful Lady Senators* who keep screwing things up with their legislatin’ and not-babymakin’ and whatnot. Hilariously, he insisted the disdainful womenfolk were from the dreaded Northeast, when in fact he was describing West Virginia’s Shelley Moore Capito and Lisa Murkowski from…ahem…Alaska. Geography, like so much in America in 2017…is for cucks.

Anyhow, Fartenhard expressed that he’d like to settle the issue over a duel, which is a normal, adult response to being disagreed with. He insisted he was too gentlemanly to murder LADY senators with his musket, or maybe with the authentic Hattori Hanzo replica he picked up at ComiCon, but Jerry Moran better watch his punk ass!

He then retreated to his subreddit safe space where he whined about how Flash Thompson wasn’t white in the recent Spider-Man movie.

*The face Little Man Blake made when referring to “Female Senators” was indistinguishable from the one a four-year-old makes when lamenting the presence of “lima beans” on the dinner plate.

Meanwhile…DRUMPF SCREAMED DEATH DEATH DEATH AS TRUMPCARE DIES, at a speech earlier today, because, unable to understand, much less make the case for his bill, he fell back on his old standby, scaring the poo out of stupid white people. Dance with who brung ya, I suppose.

And now I guess MINO (that’s STILL Maverick In Name Only) John McCain will ride onto the floor of the Senate on a horse paid for with taxpayer funds and valiantly vote to steal health care from millions. I really, REALLY want to think better of the man…I mean, how the FUCK can you stare down a cancer fight (I have to get real for a second here, folks…speaking from experience…cancer is horrifying, cancer is unrelenting, and yes, cancer is expensive, and if you can’t afford to fight it, you don’t have a fucking CHANCE.) that taxpayers will be financing, and then turn around and use your power to tell millions of your fellow citizens “sorry, shoulda been richer, fuck off, just DIE.”…I don’t understand how you can hold the Cancer in one hand and the ACA Repeal Vote in the other. I just fucking don’t.

I dunno. Maybe he’s scared Kelli Ward is going to get sick of waiting for him to die, and show up with a judiciously poisoned Tuna Helper casserole? Surprise us, Senator McCain. Please.

Anyhow.

Everybody’s favorite babyfaced Shartthrob, Jared Kushner, gave a little closed-door testimony today, and issued a little bullshit statement about how he barely collaborated even a little bit, and he’s just a poor little rich boy who doesn’t even read the collusion emails he gets, and just wanders into meetings with Russians without knowing what they’re about. And also, if he forget about 100 foreign contacts and millions of dollars in assets, and an entire fucking BILLION DOLLARS IN DEBT on his security clearance forms, which happens to be an enormous fucking crime, well, I’M FUCKIN’ THE PRESIDENT’S DAUGHTER, SO WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO, SEND A MEAN TWEET ABOUT IT, BITCH?

…and somewhere, Bob Mueller grinned, cracked his knuckles, and got back to work.

Kushner, who has been tasked by his father-in-law with a broad portfolio ranging from solving the opioid crisis to bringing peace to the Middle East to inventing Flubber in real life, seems to be leaning on the “I’m so dumb I eat with a Nerf fork” defense, which the right wing media is happy to run with. 6 months in, kiddies, and “blistering incompetence” is the best they’ve got. Gooooooooood luck.

Meanwhile Democrats unveiled their new It’s the Economy, Dumbass, platform this afternoon. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer assures us the platform going forward will be neither Namby nor Pamby, and certainly not both at once. Looks alright. We’ll see.

And then I guess the Boy Scouts of America invited the Bastard Son of Gordon Gekko and Krang’s Robot Body to speak at their Jamboree, so that all the kids could get their pussy-grabbing merit badge. Shit got creepy right quick, with Dorito Mussolini riffing on all the grievances that perpetually rage in his tiny reptile brain (instead of, you know, the issues the American People care about), shit like Fake Gnus and the electoral college and how Salma Hayek won’t go out with him.

And he shit on his predecessor a little, to creepy “USA” chants from the juvenile crowd. It was like a little Shartler Youth rally. In a couple of years, instead of collecting canned goods, these kids’ll be reporting you for thoughtcrime.

Aaaaaaand I guess the right wing media bubba-uhl is trying to destroy Jake Tapper tonight? Fuck all y’all. Diet Rambo is the fucking best. He is honest, and fair, and brave, and on the front fuckin’ lines of this thing, I’m grateful as all get-out for the work he and his fellow journalists are doing in these batshit crazy times. When this is all done, they’ll build a statue of Jake Tapper, only it’ll also be a fountain, and it’ll be pissing on a smaller, shittier statue of Sean Hannity.

Yeah, there’s more. There’s always fucking more. Shit, I’m even passing up an opportunity to shit on Jill Stein tonight, because I’m that fucking exhausted by the tornado-full-of-badgers-and-hammers that is the daily news cycle.

Get some sleep, Resisters. Let’s give this Senate Health Care bill a swirlie tomorrow…and take its lunch money.