Just Past Halloween, Trump Has Already Turned on His Own Fucking Son-in-Law

Well folks, Halloween has come and gone, so why does reading the news still feel like I’ve been locked in the Funhouse Hall of Mirrors with nothing but NyQuil and moldy pumpernickel to subsist on?

Before we get started, don’t forget the OBAMACARE OPEN ENROLLMENT PERIOD started today! Your government doesn’t want anybody to know that. Your government would prefer you died like the Taker Scum you know you are than giving you the health insurance you’re entitled to, because you see a black guy told a joke about Donald Trump this one time.

So it’s on US, Resisters. We need to replace all the advertising and word-spreading that our distressingly bloodthirsty government refuses to do. So get your asses on social media, and let everybody know about that sweet sweet health insurance that’s batting its eyes in the corner, all coquettishly, at the millions of Americans who’re entitled to it. Health Insurance, you SLUT.

As you all know, New York was the site of a horrifying terror attack. Your average, run-of-the-mill President might give a rousing, unifying speech, about how strong, decent, and loving Americans are, how these cowardly acts will not defeat us…but not Government Cheese Goebbels.

No, he wants to rant about how Chuck Schumer personally smuggled the terrorist into the country in the trunk of his hybrid (CUCK), nursed him to adulthood on a diet of jihadist propaganda and SpaghettiOs, and finally turned him loose wearing a suit made entirely from I’m With Her bumper stickers.

(Later in the day, some of the frothier nutcases on the right came at Jake Tapper for daring to suggest that maybe not all Muslims are evil, but Diet Rambo was NOT HAVIN’ THAT SHIT.)

Anyway, these days the national discourse seems to revolve around whether or not the Civil War was really about race and slavery, or just the inability of good ol’ boys to sit down over mint juleps and a friendly game of Jenga to hammer out a friendly compromise on whether or not human beings could be property. IT’S LIKE 1855 BUT WITH MINECRAFT!

Papa John came out against free speech today, because EVEN PIZZA IS AN ASSHOLE NOW. I guess American Fascism has an official fast food sponsor, that’s nifty. Maybe they can start making kids meals, with little personal pizzas that come with a talking action figure of the Texans owner referring to his players as “inmates.”

And of course we’re still rolling around in the aftermath of Manic Monday* like gleeful puppies frolicking through leaf piles, because goddammit, we deserve a little good news.

It is one of the great pleasures of my life, witnessing Shart Garfunkel’s craven media enablers desperately, pathetically trying to spin this as anything other than jackhammer-to-the nutsack news for the administration. (Sean Hannity’s descent into madness has permanently replaced pornography for me.)

“C’mon, this is Paul Manafort’s problem! Ok, so the President hired a career criminal, an unregistered foreign agent, to manage his campaign, & the dude was laundering money for Putin Pals the whole time, but there’s nothing in there about collusion!”

Really? A money launderer running the campaign? That’s something y’all’re just totally down with now?

“Yep.”

Ok, what Poopaderpaderp? The guy who literally confesses to collusion, and implicates multiple high-ranking campaign personnel as well?

“Oh, he was hardly involved in the camp-”

NOPE. Looka here. Also here.

“…HILLARY CLINTON KIDNEY-PUNCHED MY GRAMMA! BENGHAZI! EMAILS! URRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANIUUUUUUUUUUM.”

It’d be funny, if it all wasn’t done in service to protecting traitors.

Getting back to Papadoobedoo, you know everyone’s least favorite racist Keebler elf, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III, spent this week hiding in his office, quietly crapping frosting into whatever freaky religious undergarment he wears. See, we keep learning more and more about Ol’ Beauregard’s ties with young Georgie, and the magic 8-ball says “You’re rather spectacularly fucked, Jeff.”

Did Perpawalkywalk have a little talky talk with Sessions while wired, and swap it for his cushy plea deal? I don’t know, but I’ll tell ya what, folks: I really, REALLY want that. I don’t know why I hate Sessions more than any of the other fucks in this cheap goon cabal, but I really fucking do.

And y’know what else I want? I want to see Sessions sent to one of these private prisons he’s been oh-so-eagerly filling up with undocumented immigrants and non-violent drug offenders. He’s so eager to ratchet up the Justice Department’s role in jackbooted institutional white supremacy? Fuck you, Jeff, I bet they can spare a cot for a traitor.

And I’m placing a 30-cigarette bounty on each of his dopey ears, when that day comes.

Somehow Paul Manafort found himself in even deeper shit today, as the Ukrainian government (You know the one. The one Putin doesn’t like. The one whose enemies Paul Manafort worked for.) is all “Fuck YES y’all can have everything we’ve dug up on that Rectal Tumor of a Human Being!”

I guess Manafort surrendered not one, but THREE passports before reporting for house arrest, which is pretty typical of people who aren’t in the habit of committing international financial crimes, right?

We’re told Manafort frequently travelled under false names, among them Madame Penelope Grundle, mysterious dowager Countess, a famously poor baccarat player known for soliciting foot massages from Southern Europe’s most eligible bachelors. (Manafort turns out to be surprisingly fetching under the appropriate wig, particularly once he’s applied a beauty mark.)

The GOP, meanwhile, refuses to pass legislation protecting the Mueller investigation. Bob Corker’s all, “He’s not batshit enough to fire Mueller,” apparently forgetting that the fuckhead SET THE WHOLE FUCKING INVESTIGATION OFF IN THE FIRST PLACE BY FIRING JIM COMEY FOR REFUSING TO PLEDGE LOYALTY.

I never knew this, but it turns out one of my favorite things about all the previous Presidents of my lifetime is how they never referred to the entire American justice system as a “joke” or a “laughingstock.” I guess my fifth grade civics class didn’t adequately prepare me for 2017’s rapidly-plummeting standards.

Oh, and speaking of Levels of Depravity You Never Imagined an American President Could Possibly Sink To, I guess the Marmalade Shartcannon’s lawyers are saying that slandering the women who’ve accused him of sexual assault is constitutionally protected free speech.

Sure, whatever. At this point, I just need Al Franken to bring that up at the impeachment trial, just in passing.

Scott Pruitt continues purging the EPA of scientists, because if you think science is a real thing, that means you have a “conflict of interest,” unlike the noble avatars of impartiality he’s replacing them with; fossil fuel company lobbyists.

And just to show everyone how serious the Shart House is about the whole Science is For Cucks initiative, wooooo doggie, get a load of the asspimple they’re trying to push through to run NASA!

What next? Maybe they’ll name Gallagher Chief of Staff at Walter Reed? Maybe the next Surgeon General will just be a waffle. That last Eggo waffle, freezerburned and forgotten underneath that one Trader Joe’s Chicken Tikka Marsala box you bought when you were feeling adventurous.

(Just to cleanse the palate, let me offer you this profile of Betsy DeVos, focusing on what a hamfisted fuckup she is. Feel better?)

(But then, if you want to swing back in the other direction, here’s a Mother Jones piece that shows just how deep in the derp our government really is. HOLY BALLS, DUDE.)

We got a look at some of the ads the Russkies unleashed on our dumbass electorate last year. Everything from race-baiting to arm-wrasslin’ Jesus to color-your-own-sexxxy-Bernie to Here’s Hillary Shitting on a Veteran’s Grave While Giving Bin Laden a Hand Job, because, as I keep saying, Russia figured out how to weaponize our most prominent natural resource: morons.

Going microlocal, gather ye ’round to hear the tale of this shitty little white girl who poisoned her black roommate and got expelled and now faces hate crimes charges. Is America great again yet?

Mexico’s former ambassador to the U.S. says the State Department’s protocol urges diplomats to steer people to Orange Julius Caesar’s shitty, gaudy, hotels. Got that? Low-T Rex doesn’t think we need a sanctions office, but helpin’ out Boss Shart with his petty grift is official policy.

And of course the Feral Jackasses in the House Republican Caucus continue bumbling through the construction of their tax “reform” bill, like stoned chimpanzees trying to put the Mousetrap board game together.

What’s in it? Who the fuck knows? Not the Republican Party, a day or so before unveiling it, certainly. Rumors abound. Will it casually repeal the individual mandate, sending health insurance markets into an entirely predictable, economy-crushing death spiral? Will it cap tax-deductible contributions to 401(K) plans just so Charlie Koch can have his scrotum gilded?

Greg Gianforte chews absentmindedly at the cabbage patch doll has colleagues dressed up as a reporter to funnel his rage in less self-destructive directions. Steve King sits in the courier, raving about cantaloupes. Jim Jordan…is an asshole.

And of course the Man With Phalangeal Stunting is down in the trenches, personally working out the minute details of the bill, balancing the needs of the various stakeholders with the deftness of a master legislator, sort of like Lyndon-Johnson-as-played-by-the-Rock.

Hah hah just kidding, he doesn’t even know what the fucking bill does. His contribution apparently comes down to wanting to call the legislation the “Cut Cut Cut” bill, because…I guess this “branding genius” doesn’t have a lot left in the tank after “let’s name it after me.”

Seen this Vanity Fair piece? This is the best 36-leaker-sourced-portrait-of-a-dickless-tyrant-in-meltdown article since the heady days of the Priebus era. Not even a year in, Dorito Mussolini’s already turning on his fucking FAMILY.

And of course Steve Bannon, that Pockmarked Grima Wormtongue, counsels his old boss to dig a trench around the Resolute Desk, declare himself Emperor for Life, and turn as much of America into Kurtz’s camp as he can get away with.

Just for fun, let’s check in on the new poll that says 59% of Americans call these shitty days “the lowest point in the nation’s history that they can remember.”

Jesus Fuck, polling’s taken a dark turn of late, huh? Fuck it, let’s keep digging. Let’s find out how many hours daily the Average American spends gazing into the Abyss, and what percentage report the Abyss gazing back. How many people find Guernica a comparatively cheerful painting when placed alongside the morning’s print edition of the Washington Post?

FUCK. Maybe Werner Herzog should run for President. HERZOG/THAT FEELING YOU GET WHEN YOU SMELL YOUR DEAD GRANDPA’S COLOGNE ON THE BUS 2020, y’all!

*Donnie wishes it were a Sunday. That’s his Golf Day. Well, the second consecutive one.