Fuck, y’all. So much madness in the news today, it’s like the Bridge on the River Kwai collapsed on top of the American Horror Story: Asylum set while Michele Bachmann was leading a tour.

The Republican-led House of Representatives failed to pass the Fucking Farm Bill, which would be sort of like you failing to successfully brush your teeth. Like, you just keep ramming the brush into your eye socket over and over again till you’re bloody and blind. Paul Ryan has this ridiculously unearned reputation as the wonkiest wonk who ever wonked, and yet he can’t accomplish the legislative equivalent of putting on his socks before his shoes.

…not that such colossal failures stopped some anonymous rich jagoff from tossing Ryan’s political nonprofit group 24.6 million dollars. God, I’d love to be that well-paid for being that shitty at my job. Like, I’m a failed actor, can I get some Koch brother to at least cover my car insurance?

Desperate to turn out the slobbering zombies in his shit-huffing “base” to fend off the coming mid-term electoral drubbing, Baron Golfin von Fatfuk, in conjunction with Mike Pants’ team of giddy theocrats, is attempting some circus-level legal contortionism to strip funding from Planned Parenthood, because I guess they forgot that women can vote. The future is female, you Taliban wannabes, and it’s getting ready to tap-dance all over your groins. In heels.

I know many struggling Americans, particularly in the Rust Belt, are anxiously waiting for the President to deliver on his campaign promise to bring high-wage manufacturing and mining jobs back to their economically distressed communities. WELL, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO WAIT A LITTLE LONGER, CAMPERS, because Fat Q*Bert has more important shit on his plate.

…shit like settling old scores with Jeff Bezos, that cocky little fucker who has the balls to be richer than his own President, WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS? Plus he owns a newspaper that refuses to toe the State TV propaganda line? Bald asshole’s just ASKING for trouble.

And he’s getting it. President Crotchvoid may not have time to develop a plan to bring jobs back, but when it comes to pestering the Postmaster General to raise Amazon’s shipping charges, TELL GENERAL KELLY TO HOLD MY CALLS.

It’s enough to make you think that maybe giving awesome political power to a stupid, self-absorbed, grievance-driven, thug wasn’t the best idea.

So, Rudy Giuliani has taken it upon himself, in his got-my-ass-fired-by-my-law-firm retirement, to do everything in his power to burn the pillars of American democracy to the ground so that his buddy Don doesn’t have to pay for his crimes. (To enhance this section of tonight’s blog, play Dionne Warwick’s “That’s What Friends Are For” in the background.) To that end, he waddles out onto th’teevee all the time to spin and dissemble and lie. One of his favorite points to belch up, like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly, is that the President cannot be subpoenaed to testify, because he’s worried about “perjury traps,” just like every other totally innocent dude’s lawyer.

Trouble is, Mayor 9-11’s position was a wee bit different when the President in question was a member of the opposing party.

And one of his recent interviewers slapped Rudy in the face with the Big Fat Dick of His Own On-the-Record Statements. And “America’s Mayor” responded like a spoiled little rich kid who got caught shoplifting: he threw a temper tantrum.

Can you imagine being so pathetic that, when confronted with recorded evidence of our own hypocrisy, you can’t think of any response more dignified than whining about “unfairness?”

Good news can be hard to come by these days, but godDAMN it’s satisfying watching the walls close in on Roger Stone. Yet another Stone lackey has been subpoenaed by the Mueller investigation, no doubt to answer hard questions like, “Does that ridiculous old man really imagine he’s pulling off those suits?”

Gone is the Bring Me Roger Stone cockiness of old, and now he’s whining about the “extraneous crime” he’s likely to be indicted for now that law enforcement is finally poking around in his drawers. Even his own former personal Wormtongue, Sam Nunberg, predicts an Indictment-o-gram for his old boss in the near future. The moment these treasonweasonals transition from arrogance to fear is positively delectable, don’t you think?

While our scumfuck racist dirtbag President was busy dehumanizing immigrants, yet another shitty white boy terrorist committed mass-murder at an American school, apparently at least in part because a girl wouldn’t go out with him. Oh, and he had a more-than-casual interest in Nazi imagery. One of the President’s Very Fine People, no doubt.

Now, there were armed guards at this school. Two of them. For years now, the maniac gunhumper crowd has assured us shooters exclusively target gun-free zones, which was always ridiculous, because shooters target the people they feel like murdering, even when there are multiple armed guards in the building.  OBVIOUSLY.

Anyway, the NRA’s last ridiculous argument has collapsed like a house of straw before the Big Bad Wolf of logic and observable evidence, so now their loyal toadies in the Republican Party are desperately scrambling for something, ANYTHING to take the blame off the easier-to-obtain-than-Drake-tickets murder machines plaguing our nation, because they’re more worried about losing Wayne LaPierre’s campaign donations than about your children losing their lives.

Because they are evil. Not misguided, not misinformed, EVIL. Human life is supposed to matter to you. If it doesn’t, you’re either a sociopath, or you’re morally broken. It’s like opposing cancer research because you didn’t want to lose funding from the powerful tumor lobby. It’s evil. Call it what it is. (Which, if I haven’t been clear, is evil.)

Oliver North blamed Ritalin, presumably before selling a fuckton of industrial strength Ritalin to Iran. Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick says the problem is schools have too many doors, so in the future, Texas schoolchildren will be forced to choose between gun safety and fire safety upon entering kindergarten. You’ll be given a piece of paper with one drawing of Kermit the Frog, engulfed in flames, choking to death on smoke, and one of Miss Piggy bleeding out from a chest wound, and you circle the drawing you prefer. THEY GROW UP SO FAST.

Conservative Thought-Leader-Mostly-Because-He-Has-Glasses-and-Can-Tie-His-Shoes-I-Guess Hugh Hewitt figures the problem is trench coats, so maybe we should try trench coat control or at least mandate universal background checks before all trench coat sales WE MUST CLOSE THE TRENCH COAT SHOW LOOPHOLE.

John Cornyn blamed Season 3, Episode 8 of the Drew Carey Show. Roger Wicker blamed the lack of year-round McRib availability. Matt Bevin trembled, shook his fist at the sky, and simply screamed “KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHN.”

Anything. ANYTHING to drag the conversation, kicking, screaming, and stained with the blood of countless children, away from common-sense gun control. Villainous.

ON A LIGHTER NOTE…Some very fancy, very very rich people got married in England, I guess. I’m told there were a great number of hats. I wouldn’t mention it here, but for a choice bit of of trolling referencing Sharty McFly’s crowd sizes, which remain as tiny, feeble, and uninspiring as his embarrassing childlike fingers.

Orange Julius Caesar, being the walking definition of a bully, loooooooves to talk tough, but always, ALWAYS backs down when confronted. Distressingly, for America anyways, everybody on Planet Earth knows this, and behaves accordingly when “negotiating” with the Shart of the Deal.

Thus, I am pleased to announce a new recurring subsection here on the Ol’ Political Poo Joke Blog…The Possibly Incomplete List of Persons, Places, and Things that Totally Cucked Donald Trump Over the Last Few Days!

Let’s dive right in, shall we?

NORTH KOREA! With his fantasy Nobel turning to sand right before his eyes, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet cancelled a planned joint U.S./South Korea military exercise, because Kim Jong-un cucked him like few cucks have e’er been cucked. In summation: cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

CHINA! Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops promised a big bad trade war that would bring China to its knees, crying into the business end of his too-long necktie, begging for mercy! What actually happened is the Chinese threatened heavy retaliation (and stopped buying American soybeans) and Mr. Tuff Guy totally backed down in exchange for…JACK SHIT! Secretary Mnuchbag slithered out to announce the surrender.

(Well, the United States got Jack Shit. The President got half a billion dollars in loans for a resort his company is co-developing in Indonesia. It fun swapping the national interest for the Grand Wizard Grifter’s personal enrichment, isn’t it?)

HIS OWN WIFE’S NAME! Hey, texting is hard when you have janky baby hands!

Who will cuck our President in the days and weeks to come? Tune in to find out!

Shower Cap’s crack team of investigative reporters have uncovered Shartboy, Jr.’s Ashley Madison profile! Under “likes,” he lists “futile quests for my sociopathic father’s approval,” “colluding with foreign officials to steal elections,” and “Franklin & Bash marathons.”

Yes, yet another secret meeting has surfaced, this time featuring Blackwater Mercenary Honcho Erik Prince, an Israeli social media guru, and a stooge for a couple of super-rich Arab princes. You’ll recognize the stooge in question, George Nader, from such memorable episodes as “George Nader detained by the FBI upon reentering the country,” “George Nader cooperating with Mueller investigation,” and the timeless classic, “George Nader Arrested for Child Pornography.”

…I’m sure these new revelations of the President’s shitweasel son’s boneheaded crime spree have nothing to do with the ensuing Trumper Tantrum/Twitter meltdown. Nothing at all.

(By the way, while I was writing this, the AP dropped a deep dive into this John-Grisham-wouldn’t-sign-his-name-to-this-shit-it’s-too-over-the-top corruption shitshow. Nice to learn that the whole Qatar crisis has been enabled by a couple of criminally-convicted Drumpf cronies for the sake of their own personal enrichment. This swamp is just the draindest-ass swamp I’ve ever seen.)

It looks like both Junior and Prince lied to Congress about all this shit, which is a crime. Of course, Trey Gowdy and Paul Ryan wouldn’t prosecute anyone tied this administration even if they found a drawer full of moist femurs in Stephen Miller’s office, so justice’ll have to wait until we flip the House this November.

Having failed to convince the world that Obama was surveilling Trump Tower (through those tricksy microwave cameras, right Kellyanne?), the Accidental Poosquirt has now decided to go all in on some bullshit story about his predecessor ordering the FBI to plant a mole in his 2016 campaign, because he’s looking for a lie big enough to embarrass Goebbel’s ghost. I’ll let the real journalists walk you through the fact check.

(What the Dipshit Dotard doesn’t know is, the REAL infiltrator was Eric Holder, who would disguise himself as Steve Bannon by wearing a mask made from the scrotum of a measles-stricken whale, and dousing his suit in cheap gin.

…and Rod Rosenstein placated him like a toddler, rolling his eyes while expanding the DoJ inspector general’s mandate to “whatever horseshit happens to be dropping from the Idiot Manchild President’s mouth today.”

And Rudy Giuliani opened the chasm of horrors known as “Rudy Giuliani’s hideous mouth” and proclaimed that Bashful Bob Mueller told him the whole investigation into Toupee Fiasco’s many crimes should be wrapped up by September 1st, and everybody believes Rudy’s telling the truth and not just pulling an arbitrary deadline out of his ass to manufacture artificial parameters to pretend to get angry about when the time comes.

Reached for comment, Mueller said only, “I’ll have to get back to you. My eyes rolled so hard they detached from my optic nerves and are still spinning at damn near light speed. I may have discovered perpetual motion.”

I see the RNC shelled out half a million clams (I’ve been watching old movies lately) for Hope Hicks’ lawyers. I wonder, does that even register with the frothy rubes of Cult45?  You donate your hard-earned money to this grifter who used the power you gave him to shave six or seven zeros off his own tax bill, but hasn’t done shit for you, and now his crooked collaborators are spending your donations on high-end lawyers.

…It’s a magnificent con, if nothing else.

And now the Failing New York Times reports Shart Garfunkel maybe kinda sorta wants to back out of his much-ballyhooed Singapore Summit with Kim Jong-un, because suddenly he smells embarrassment and failure (super-familiar odors to his spray-tanned nostrils after seven decades of fucking up everything he touches) instead of adoration and Nobel Prizes, because that’s was it was always about, right? Not stabilizing the region, or disarming a rogue regime, just one more attempt to fill the gaping hole in the center of the President’s soul that opened when a unloving father shipped his ass to military school.

The Not at All Racist How Dare You Even Suggest We’re Racist (Miller, Take Off Your Hood, the Cameras are Here!) crew squatting in the White House issued a press release making sure everyone knows how proud they are of their insertion of the word “animal” into the immigration debate, calling people “animals” eight times in a single document, and hey, we’re just talking about the gangs, not every immigrant WINK WINK and if we’ve got Border Patrol agents feelin’ so frisky they’re just detaining anybody they hear speaking Spanish, well, that’s just a zany coincidence I assure you, SOMEBODY TELL GORKA NOT TO SET THE CROSS ON FIRE UNTIL THE PRESS LEAVES.

Everybody congratulate Neil Gorsuch! SCOTUS’s freshest, wettest, asshole finally got to take the true power of his stolen seat out for a drive today, doing his humble best to shit directly down the throats of America’s working class. Neal celebrated with a fine mousse flavored with syrup distilled from the sweat scraped directly off the foreheads of single mothers at the precise moment they collapse from exhaustion after working their third job.

Recently Promoted Diplomat Cosplayer Mike Pompeo gave a little speech on Iran. Having unilaterally violated the previously-existing deal in not just bad, but pissed-on-the-toilet-seat-and-crapped-in-the-shower faith, Pompeo now demands Iran give the U.S. its entire wishlist, up to and including the Supreme Leader’s prized collection of Original Mint-in-the-Box Cabbage Patch Dolls, in return for a suitcase full of farts. Once again, the raw deal-making prowess of these assclowns is a sight to behold.

The Obamas signed a big development deal with Netflix, and the predictable squealing about boycotts surfaced almost immediately, so y’all better catch up on Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt before the awesome economic juggernaut of the right wing jagosphere destroys the streaming service once and for HAHAHAHAHHAHAH I can’t even finish that sentence.

Murderous Coal Baron Don Blankenship has apparently developed a taste for homicide, and he wants more! This time, he’s coming for the ingrates of the West Virginia Republican Party, who so selfishly ticked the “not the felon whose negligence killed a bunch of miners” box in their Senate primary a little while back. Now Death-Dealing Donny wants to run a fatally vote-splitting third-party, “FOR HATE’S SAKE I SPIT MY LAST BREATH AT THEE” campaign, and not even WV’s sore loser law may be enough to stop him.

Democrats added an anti-corruption message to their midterm electoral strategy, betting that the American people can imagine better uses for their tax dollars than financing a lazy President’s weekly golf vacations. Or Ben Carson’s dining room. Or Ryan Zinke’s luxury travel. Or Scott Pruitt’s creepy soundproof wankoff booth. Or Devin Nunes’ extravagant porcine brothel excursions.

CNN reports a gaggle of shit-encrusted “outside advisors” featuring such prize specimens as Steve Bannon and Corey Lewandowski are urging Don the Con to paint Rod Rosenstein as some sort of Deep State High Priest maliciously manufacturing fake evidence to bring down America’s beloved Dear Leader while 44 Presidential portraits weep blood over the injustice of it all. Fuck it, why not? The rubes will believe literally anything you tell them, and the rest of us understand you’re lying every time you open you mouth. Say Rosenstein’s the anti-Christ. Say he’s a space alien. Say he’s running a pedophile ring out of a pizza joint if you’re feeling particularly bold.

Lord, the Candycorn Skidmark can’t even navigate his office’s simplest ceremonial responsibilities without being an absolute ass. Congratulating some sort of NASCAR champion (not knocking it, just not my jam), he couldn’t resist making a crack about standing during the national anthem, because he’s anti-free speech, which is not a quality I generally seek in a President.

Missouri Governor Eric Greitens gets a little Trumpier every day, doesn’t he? Now he’s got a Special Prosecutor of his very own! No word on whether the experimental finger-shrinking treatments are working yet.

Politico tells us Tonight’s Post Was Very Long and I’m Out of Nicknames But Please Assume I Called the President Something Hilarious insists on using unsecured personal cell phones, maybe because he thinks it’s funny that every government on Earth, down to Luxembourg and Barbados, knows more about his personal communications than John Kelly. Anyhow, I’m sure Trey Gowdy’s passionate feelings about digital security will resurface any minute now.

…holy shit. Either all that crap really happened, or I’m plugged into the Matrix and they mixed some bath salts in the feeding tube today. Either way, I need a damn drink. I’ll see you in a few days, Shower Captives…