Wow, what a weekend, right? We had a big fancy football game, and kicked off a new nuclear arms race! Maroon 5 was there, which I’m pretty sure was mentioned somewhere in the Book of Revelation. Anyhow, read my blog before the world ends, is what I’m saying.

I hate to see friendships fall apart, y’know? Matt Bevin and Kim Davis used to be such good friends, back in those halcyon days of weaponizing the power of the state to dehumanize American citizens, and deny them their basic rights. But money changes everything, and now that the $225,000 bill for her vicious little attempt at theocracy has come due, a rift has opened. How very sad. I may weep.

The Failing New York Times reports that Deutsche Bank turned down the Grand Wizard Grifter’s request for a loan during the 2016 campaign. Now, DB was the last financial institution on Earth willing to loan that crooked old fuck any money, so isn’t it neat to find out we elected a President who was one bad day away from desperately trying to pawn a fake Time Magazine cover for cash?

Republicans across the nation are expressing gratitude to Virginia Governor-for-now Ralph Northam, relieved that someone else is in trouble for being racist/extremely stupid for a change. You have to admit, “I’m not the guy in blackface in this photograph though I initially thought I might be because of this other time I was a guy in blackface anyway I’m not resigning” was a truly legendary moment in failed damage control. My only regret is that Northam’s wife stopped him from moonwalking right in the middle of that mega-cringe press conference, because you could see in his eyes that the opportunity to show off his moves would’ve really brightened his otherwise-trying day.

As I write this, Governor Michael Jackson Costume is still clinging on, like the ring around the tub in that house you rented in college. Ralph, do us all a favor, and moonwalk your sorry ass right out of the governor’s mansion, and our lives, forever.

Let’s not move on without sparing a hearty Go Fuck Yourself to every Republican hopping on the “Shame on your racism, Ralph Northam, you must resign” train. Virginia GOP, after Ed Gillespie’s repugnant campaign, you went even further and ran neo-Confederate Corey Stewart, who sits in a department store Santa’s lap every year and asks for a slave, against Tim Kaine. Take all the seats.

Ted Cruz, who made Steve “Some of my best friends are Austria Nazis” King his national campaign co-chair in 2016, thinks he has the moral authority to weigh in? That opinion is shittier than your beard, son, and that is one shitty, shitty, beard you’ve got.

So, President Used Enema Water has his annual physical coming up, and he’s frantically trying to bring disgraced “doctor” Ronny Jackson back to lie about his weight again, because that’s the sort of thing your Commander-in-Chief thinks about instead of learning how tariffs work. The lesson here is that you too can be promoted to the highest levels of American government, even if you drink on the job and dispense medication so haphazardly as to earn the nickname “Candyman,” if you’re just willing to indulge a vain old man’s fantasy that yes, that overlong necktie really is quite slimming, sir.

Time Magazine reports that the Marmalade Shartcannon’s national security briefers are concerned that he’s endangering national security because he doesn’t listen to the American intelligence community, cuz they’re boring and frequently contradict the talkin’ faces from the magic teevee box. I don’t want to seem alarmist, but “President undermines national security” feels like it ought to be a bigger story, don’tcha think?

Last November, the good people of Utah voted to expand Medicaid under the ACA, but Republicans in the state legislature said “Instead of what you clearly told us you wanted, how about we do something more expensive and less effective?” It’s Paul LePage in Maine all over again. The American people are all, “Hey, we really want health care, cuz it turns out being alive is pretty great and we want more of it,” and Republicans go, “Look, you filthy takers, count yourselves lucky we don’t just chop y’all up for mulch for the fields around Ann Romney’s dressage horse stables, ‘kay?”

So, some disgruntled Shart House staffer leaked several weeks’ worth of Hairplug Himmler’s daily schedules, showing he spends a third of his time watching television with his thumb up his ass, another third working with Mick Mulvaney to extract said thumb from said ass, and perhaps an odd moment here and there grudgingly tending to his duties as President of the United States.

It’s absolutely hilarious that these assclowns imagine that anybody believes La Grande Merde uses these massive blocks of “executive time” to access his Super Special Secret Donnie Prezidenting Powers. We can literally line up his tweets directly with whatever the blithering morons on Fux n’ Fiendz happen to be blathering about, we’ve been doing it for months. “Executive time” my ass; he’s sitting on the shitter googling “how do umbrellas work?”

Hey, speaking of taxpayer money getting pissed down the drain in the form of Trump spokesjags trying to gaslight us over the stupidest imaginable shit, an anonymous official told NYT that Littlefinger’s creepy, obviously unnatural, spray tan is really the result of “good genes.” Dude, no. There is no “My face looks like a fossilized scrotum that got trapped on the Planters Cheez Balls assembly line” gene. That is not a thing. Shut the fuck up.

So Tangerine Idi Amin got an interview broadcast during the Super Bowl and of course he lied a lot and said a bunch of dumb shit and claimed Nancy Pelosi eats puppies and flosses afterwards with their adorable little puppy tendons, but did you notice something? Nobody really paid attention. Nobody’s talking about what he said. “Oh, is the doddering old twit bellowing about his wall again? Somebody give him a glass of warm milk and send him to bed.” It’s all just white noise now.

The only thing we ARE discussing from that sloppy tirade? Donnie Dotard’s comments on how he wouldn’t want his son playing football because it’s too dangerous, and you’re like holy shit, he’s actually RIGHT about something for a change, oh well even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Only that means he’s only going to be right about ONE MORE THING the whole rest of his Presidency, and why couldn’t it have been about something like NATO or trade instead of severe head trauma?

Who wants a heapin’ helpin’ of the BANALITY OF EVIL, because we just brought a fresh tub of it out to the buffet! Yes, the Turdmaggot Administration, fighting a lawsuit demanding that they reunite the families they separated in what I’ll remind you was an act of state-sponsored terrorism, whines that they don’t WANNA because it would be too hard. “We have done this evil thing, yes, but setting it right would require effort, and thus we would prefer not to, sorry about the trauma except not really.” It’s like a little kid whining about cleaning his room, only with atrocity instead of dirty socks and Legos.

Democrats in the Senate are preparing a bill that would prevent Shartolo Colon from repurposing disaster relief funds for his Big Dumb Wall, because apparently we need legislation to keep our President from stealing money from hurricane victims to finance personal vanity projects now. America is so great again, you guys.

The real wall, of course, is the one the Sunny D-Bag keeps beating his head against in demanding money for his wall. Unsatisfied with his cratering approval numbers, or the public’s repeated, loud, rejection, he’s sending troops to the border again, because that worked out so fucking well last time. The next President should have a short term memory, I think, as well as the equivalent capacity for learning of a laboratory rat. Call me a radical, that’s how I see it.

And the Velveeta Vulgarian officially nominated shady-ass lobbyist David Bernhardt to take over the Interior Department after Ryan Zinke looted it of everything down to the sugar cubes in the break room. While Bernhardt is precisely the sort of unscrupulous swamp monster we’ve come to expect from Fat Q*Bert’s cabinet appointments, I regret to inform you that he does not, at this time, appear to be funny, and thus this segment will be presented without jokes.

Looks like Rinat Akhmetshin, a Russian lobbyist who attended Son of Shart’s famous Please Daddy Can I Commit Some Treason Trump Tower meeting, received a suspicious, mysterious, half-million-dollar infusion around the time of said meeting. Anyway, since we know there was NO COLLUSION (I ask you, would the President lie?), you have to admit these coincidences are getting wackier and wackier. Sid Caesar’s gonna pop up any minute now.

President Crotchrot’s legal troubles keep mounting, as federal prosecutors subpoenaed his inaugural committee for…well, it looks like basically everything. Anyway, you should play a game tonight, where you sit around with your friends and try to list all the various investigations and lawsuits this cheap crook and his cheap crook associates are facing. I confess I’ve lost track. I think Mueller is going to lose track when he presents his results. “Sorry your honor, I get my money-laundering oligarchs mixed up sometimes.”

With the rescheduled-due-to-the-President’s-cucking-at-the-hands-of-Speaker-Pelosi State of the Union speech just around the corner, I hope you’ll spare a thought for the poor, downtrodden, fact-checkers of the world. Between six and ten fact-checkers die of exhaustion during every major Trump speech, and the State of the Union is particularly grueling.  Leave a bowl of water out on your back porch for any fact-checkers who may live in your neighborhood.

And remember, there is no SotU drinking game that won’t kill you should you faithfully adhere to the rules.  Be careful out there, Shower Captives…