Oh, man. I thought shit was cray back when we could leave our homes. Well, before everybody descends into Edgar Allan Poe-style madness, let’s round up the news, it won’t be so – HEY! PUT DOWN THAT AXE, BRO!

When last we spoke, the Velveeta Vulgarian had cleverly (in his own mind, if not here in the real world, where all us poor saps are trapped) attempted to stick his tiny, inadequate, finger in the dike of the rapidly-hemorrhaging economy, with a last-minute press conference, designed to hoodwink the markets with a rose-tinted view of his administration’s bungled response to the coronavirus crisis. Additional cracks manifested almost immediately, with Google responding to President Dumbass’ promise of an all-purpose testing site that also tracks your footsteps and juliennes potatoes by saying, “Wut? We never said we’d do that,” and damn, the crooked old bastard really doesn’t understand yet that he can’t lie his way out of this one, does he?

Well, the Surgeon General has finally focused his full attention on battling the coronavirus. Hang on, that’s not quite right, that should read “the Surgeon General has finally focused his full attention on battling the media, for reporting all of his team’s myriad failures in the fight against the coronavirus.” Hey asshole, the blood on YOUR hands is dripping all over our nice clean carpet, our nice clean tablecloth, and, oh yeah, our nice clean grandparents/parents/immunocompromised friends. If you don’t want to be criticized for fucking up, why don’t you try fucking up less for a change?

If there’s a Pulitzer for Outrage Porn, the Failing New York Times surely locked it up early, with their profile of an odious little turdgobbler down in Tennessee, hoarding hand sanitizer in order to turn around and sell it to desperate folks at enormous markups, essentially the pandemic version of a war profiteer. Look, I don’t wanna go too hard on an enterprising young fellow exercising his entrepreneurial spirit, I just think we should seize his every asset and put him to work in one of the field hospitals that’ll be popping up soon.

So, Shart Garfunkel’s stock-market-pummeling mid-week Oval Office address caused a panicked stampede of Americans traveling abroad, sending them scrambling to get back into the country before the dumb fuck could line airport runways with spikes or some shit, because OF COURSE IT DID. This was a 100% predictable consequence of that speech; a fucking HAMSTER would’ve watched it and gone, “Oh hey, there’s totally gonna be a big huge crush at airports handling incoming international flights, we should get ready for that shit.” But of course, nobody in the entire Turdmaggot Administration thought of that, because we are governed by folks with sub-hamster-level intellects right now.

Anyway, because nobody thought to prepare for the inevitable rush of folks looking to get home, airports were clogged with passengers waiting for hours in tightly-crowded rooms, and if any one person in those rooms happened to have the coronavirus, congratufuckinglations, now they all do. Since apparently not one member of this nougat-brained administration can think even ten minutes minutes ahead, maybe somebody should challenge the Germophobic Jerkoff to game of chess, with the Presidency on the line. Or Chutes and Ladders, even.

I never read any of the Shart of the Deal’s ghostwritten books, but I assume there’s a chapter titled “Never Under Any Circumstances Miss an Opportunity to Show the World You’re an Irredeemably Evil Shitgeyser,” because the greatest challenge of his presidency has been met by perhaps his greatest act of appalling scumfuckery, as the diarrhea-souled monster actually tried to bribe a German company into turning its research, and any potential vaccine, over to America…exclusively.

Dear God. No doubt, the Adderall-Addled Assclown fantasizes about sitting on a throne atop a mountain of corpses, dispensing vaccines, one by one, to suddenly submissive world leaders in exchange for groveling. “Don’t you regret those handshakes now, Emmanuel? Not so snooty today, eh, Angela?” Anyway, the next President should possess at least one thimbleful of decency, preferably more. Call me a bleeding heart libtard, it’s just what I think.

On Sunday, the Federal Reserve did some of that Federal Reserve shit that I won’t pretend to understand. Monetary policy on this level is sixty miles over my head, so headlines may as well read “The Federal Reserve decided schambrong the flumdoozle and lower the spoondangular hippostenoob, hoping to stave off economic catastrophe.” I’m just waiting for men in dark suits to knock down my front door and requisition my change jar; until that happens, I figure we’re not quite in end-of-the-world territory…yet.   

Bad news, Resisters! Two-Time Winner of the Prestigious “Craziest Trump Surrogate” Trophy David Clarke is onto us, uncovering the dastardly plot by our Lord and Master, George Soros, to destroy capitalism and also ban bloviating nutcases from wearing crackerjack prizes on their jackets in sad attempts to cosplay third world generalissimos. Clarke is pissed off that Twitter deleted his rant, so maybe he’ll go back to his roots, and find some jail where he can torture babies and the mentally ill to death again.

Perhaps worried that the American people were placing TOO much faith in a federal government that has not only stumbled at every turn, but actually sought out heretofore undiscovered turns simply to stumble at them, Florida Senator Marco Rubio figured he would helpfully use his Twitter platform to dispel rumors of the imminent imposition of “Marshall Law,” in the event anyone was terrified about the possibility of conquest by a zombie army led by underrated character actor E.G. Marshall. It’s possible that Rubio meant to say “martial law,” but that would mean one of the young intellectual leaders of the Republican Party was an absolute moron who doesn’t even OH RIGHT I forgot, we live in Hell.

(I feel like if the entire Senate Republican Caucus was forced to sit down and take a seventh grade civics test, and the results were released to the public, the stock market would spontaneously combust.)

Both the American people and the American economy are in desperate need of emergency aid, so naturally Texas CongressDolt Louie Gohmert leapt into action to slow down that aid, in the name of whatever the meth-chugging gremlin that dwells in his otherwise-cavernous cranium happens to be screeching in his ear today. Cool. Isn’t there some clause in the Constitution stipulating that during times of crisis, the Single Dumbest Member of the Congress shall be locked in a supply closet to keep him from fucking shit up? No? There fucking well should be.

And of course, ever more extreme measures are being taken, around the globe, to slow the spread of our unwelcome new viral friend. France has shut down just about every dang thing; you’re no longer allowed outside for even a stroll, no, not even to flirtatiously chase after that one cat you’re absolutely sure is a super-sexxxxy skunk like yourself. Hell, even ISIS has ordered a moratorium on jihad-related travel to Europe! That’s right, campers, everybody who was out pub-crawling over St. Pat’s last weekend, congratulations, you are officially dumber than a suicide bomber. And probably twice as dangerous. Please handcuff yourself to a radiator until your fucking brain works.

Apparently there was a cyber attack on HHS on Sunday night, seemingly designed to interfere with America’s coronavirus response. To whichever hostile foreign power perpetrated the attack, like, the best thing y’all can do to achieve your goals is to ensure all Treasonweasel Administration officials are healthy, hale, and hearty enough to continue botching their jobs. You wanna spread coronavirus throughout the USA, send Alex Azar a care package, is all I’m sayin’.

Hey everybody, welcome to the Ventilator Hunger Games! Ventilators are about to become the single most precious commodity on Earth, one of the many things we knew weeks ago, and should have acted on weeks ago, but didn’t. So now we’re looking down the business end of a ventilator shortage that is going to lead to some very, very, very, awful choices.

Now, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, having failed in his duty to prepare for this entirely-predictable shortage, told America’s governors on a conference call to try to acquire the desperately-needed ventilators on their own, and while yes, it’s probably good advice to assume he will continue turning everything he touches to shit, like the 21st century Midas he has been every day since assuming office, it might also be cool if he actually DID HIS FUCKING JOB for once. Still, I guess it’ll be something, watching Jay Inslee and Ron DeSantis wrestle each other over medical equipment like a couple of Black Friday shoppers fighting for the last bread machine.

And the Dow dropped 3,000 points today, so I don’t imagine a certain Marmalade Shartcannon will be sending any autographed printouts to Lou Dobbs any time soon.

So yeah. Shit’s bad, and it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better, but hey, think of all the glorious Netflix binging you’ll get to do while the world burns outside your window!

In all seriousness, take care of yourselves out there, Shower Captives! Maintain social distancing practices, stay home when you can, and wash your damn hands! It’s gonna one crazy spring/summer, not in a girls-gone-wild-on-the-beach kinda way, but more of a twitching-while-watching-the-wallpaper-peel-off kinda way, but we’ll be here for each other…just six feet apart, is all.