Oh, the news, the news. I’ll say this: if you wagered President Gas Station Urinal Cake would navigate September 11th without making an ass of himself and humiliating the entire country, you fucking well deserved to lose your money.

A lot of things are, frankly, just the same as the last time we talked. That Omarosa person keeps releasing tapes, milking every moment as she rounds third base and enters her last minute or so of fame.

Republicans are still desperately trying to sneak a fundamentally dishonest partisan hack on to the Supreme Court before Susan Collins gets so tired of playing dumb she snaps, screaming “I don’t care about reproductive rights! I never cared! I care about corporate personhood and lowering the capital gains tax rate! I’M A MOTHERFUCKING REPUBLICAN, YOU SHITHEADS!”

And hundreds of children remain separated from their families because THE FUCKING UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT KIDNAPPED THEM, in what was, I’ll remind you, an act of terrorism.

Goddammit. Anyway. On to the new stuff.

The Ben Sasse Show is SO BORING, you guys. Every episode is exactly the same! He says he considers fleeing the Republican Party “every morning,” or some shit, but then he remembers how much he likes making poor people suffer, and since it’s against the law to hunt them like foxes, even on private estates, (he checked) he winds up doing JACK SHIT. Because that’s what he ALWAYS DOES. Because he is BEN SASSE.

Benny Boy votes with Donald Trump almost 87% of the time, for the record, so don’t just take his criticism of the Shart with a grain of salt, take it with a whole goddamn Morton factory.

I see Georgie Papaderpaderp, fresh off his felony sentencing, is off on the obligatory media tour. Less ridiculous than Spicey, more sober than Nunberg, at least he delivers the reliably self-serving horseshit we’ve come to expect from the various clowns in this Butthole Circus.

Lil’ Georgie insists Jefferson Beauregard Sessions th’Third was particularly eager to collude during the campaign, cackling and dancing a spritely jig, while tauntingly demanding the other meeting attendees guess his real name lest he claim their firstborn child.

So, you’ve probably noticed that the Republican Party has gone a little nutty these last few years, right? I only mention this because the Virginia state chapter of the Elephant Squad is doing its damndest to stay on the bleeding edge of conservamentia. First you look at a borderline Klan wizard like Corey Stewart. Then you watch state Senator Richard Black blathering about the British government staging a false flag chemical attack in Syria…do they hold their party conventions around a bootleg bath salts still or something?

Honestly, I’m not surprised, or even bothered anymore, that some rock-headed Republijag can volunteer himself to go on TV and parrot Bashar al-Assad’s propaganda word for word. I confess, I’m somewhat less than wild about the idea of these clods making our laws, however.

Well, bad news for decency and freedom of speech, my friends. A nationwide campaign of shoe-burning and sock-chopping by Pudding-Brained Morons Who Are So Racist They’ll Destroy Their Own Property drove sportswear titan Nike out of business in four short days, a reaction to a controversial ad campaign featuring quarterback/activist Colin Kaepernick. The industry was rocked by the unexpected – JUST KIDDING Nike’s sales surged, their stock is on the upswing, and a bunch of the shittiest idiots in America ruined their clothes for nothing.

(And this is even in the face of fearsome boycotts from the likes of the Ozark Technical School for Jet Ski Repair and Semi-Legal Dentistry.)

Republican Florida Governor candidate Ron DeSantis’ actions keep “monkeying up” his chances to hide his apparent mega-racism from voters, and once again I assure you that “monkey up” is a very common slang phrase. The Washington Post reports he’s addressed what they’re calling “racially charged events,” which is journo-speak for “Klan rallies with hors d’oeuvres and little plastic champagne glasses.”

Look here, motherfuckers, we spent EIGHT YEARS listening to y’all act like Jeremiah Wright and Bill Ayers were Obama’s fucking groomsmen, so when one of your boys hangs out at this little hate party FOUR DIFFERENT YEARS alongside the likes of Seb Gorka, Bannon, that little Milo peckerwood, Katie Hopkins, Geert Wilders, (GEERT FUCKING WILDERS? It’s a white supremacist all-star team!) then yes, we are going to judge you by the scuzzbucket company you keep.

Speaking of, golly Tucker Carlson sure is pissed at the LAMESTREAM MEDIA for pointing out that he’s parroting white nationalist talking points. Lil’ advice for Liar Tuck: most of us avoid accusations of parroting white nationalist talking points by never, y’know…parroting white nationalist talking points. Unlike, say…you.

The Genocidal Mustache Symbiotically Attached to John Bolton’s Upper Lip slithered over to the karaoke machine, and sang It’s My Party and I’ll Torture Who I Want To. Yeah, he’s pulling the U.S. out of the International Criminal Court, threatening ’em on the way, and I’m really not looking forward to what he has planned for Act II.

See, we spend so much time laughing at this administration’s bungling (He put his underpants on over his trousers again, OH THAT ZANY DOTARD!), and then they keep slipping in this fuck-up-the-world-cuz-you-don’t-understand-what-you’re-doing shit. Like leaving the Iran Deal, or the Paris Climate Agreement, or the ICC. Like shutting down the PLO office in D.C. Like the wrecking ball they keep smashing over and over again into the nation’s environmental regulations.

Like, imagine hating Obama so much that you reverse methane emission rules just to spite him. A BLACK MAN TOLD A JOKE ABOUT ME ONCE AND THE ENVIRONMENT OF THE ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET MUST PAY THE PRICE!!!!! He’s a super-villain. A stupid, shitty, ass-faced, super-villain.

Today, of course, is the 17-year anniversary of the Velveeta Vulgarian taking the opportunity presented by a horrific national tragedy to brag about how his building was the biggest and specialest now, since terrorists destroyed his competition.

The Hairplug That Ate Decency marked the occasion with all the solemnity and class you’d expect of him, screeching about the latest dumbfuck right wing conspiracies, and trying to turn America against its own law enforcement community. Old man, could you turn down the treason for ONE FUCKING DAY so we can grieve?

The Manchurian Manchild cancelled his trip to Ireland, once he learned he would not, in fact, be able to meet with the leprechaun from the cereal box, let alone suggest a new T-shaped marshmallow. The whole “President” gig really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Hey, we finally found something Donnie Dotard does better than Obama! The deficit is ballooning so rapidly even Dr. Ronny Jackson can’t cover that shit up. THIRTY-TWO percent increase, over just one year. But don’t worry America, we spent all that money on super-useful shit, like Potty Breaks for the Secret Service and…um…Just Giving it to Rich People. Good luck with the rotting infrastructure in your community, tho!

Hey, if you’d like a forehead-shaped dent in your desk, have I got the story for you! Apparently, in their quest to root out “fake news,” Facebook has given fact-check veto power to a number of media outlets, including…the Weekly Standard?!?!?!

In this case, SCOTUS expert Ian Millhiser wrote a little piece about how Brett Kavanaugh dry-humps hotel mattresses with visions of repealing Roe v Wade dancing in his head, and the Weekly Assmunching Standard did not like that, because they are a KNOWN HYPER-PARTISAN PUBLICATION, and all they had to do was wave the magic wand Zuckerberg so graciously placed in their grubby little mitts, and the post was deemed “fake,” and thusly labeled, alongside shit about lizard people watering down the soda machines in Arby’s. And yes, this limits the article’s circulation and reach. Neat trick.

So yeah, I guess Facebook gives some conservatives the power to censor stories and ideas they’d rather folks just didn’t see. Really shoulda given this one to Bill at the Abject Horror Desk, but he’s passed out drunk.

With Hurricane Florence bearing down on the east coast, the Marmalade Shartcannon is busy complimenting himself on the heckuva job he did in Puerto Rico, which will likely come as a surprise to the 3,000 people who died there due his racist neglect.

No doubt President Crotchrot will tour the wreckage after the hurricane hits, demanding effusive praise and thanks from any survivors he comes across.

There’s more madness, I know. Klan hoods on cartoon characters and an, ahem, previously undisclosed Lennon/McCartney collaboration, but I picked up a copy of the Woodward book, and I wanna knock out a few chapters before I black out.

PS – Ok, while I was writing, WaPo popped up to say Precocious Paul Manafort is looking to maybe stooge his way to a plea deal, and my condolences go out to whoever’s on diaper duty in the West Wing tonight.