Happy Impanelling Day, Everyone!

There’s no fucking way all this shit happened since the last time I wrote one of these. It’s been like, 23 hours. One short American day, and it’s like a 13th Floor Elevators record fucked a Mark Leyner novel. WHAT THE LIVING FUCK IS GOING ON IN MY BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY?

We greeted the morning, sun-kissed and dew-fresh, with the Velveeta Merkin’s latest twitter tantrum, raging at Congress for bringing relations with Russia to an “all-time & very dangerous low.” You guys, Vlad won’t even let Lil’ Donnie come over to play Duck Hunt, and he’s got the zapper gun and everything!

Yep, the American President, who didn’t get mad when his intelligence services told him that Russia had attacked our democracy, and planned to keep on doing so in the future, pitched a fit when Congress passed sanctions designed to punish them, and, y’know…PROTECT THE FUCKING COUNTRY HE’S FUCKING PRESIDENT OF.  MURICA FIRST!

And then we were treated to leaks of some transcripts of phone calls with foreign leaders from Drumpfy’s salad days (taco bowl days?) as the most powerful human on earth, when he still had a spring in his jackbooted step, full of youthful dreams of autocracy and using the U.S. treasury as his personal petty cash drawer.

You read these transcripts, they make you go, “Holy FUCK, this guy couldn’t pass a third grade social studies test!” Makes you wonder how much of John Kelly’s day is spent tying the President’s shoes and intercepting him before he runs into glass doors, doesn’t it?

My personal favorite bit was where the Shart of the Deal begged Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto to please please please not embarrass him by telling the press Mexico would never ever pay for his Big Stupid Wall. He threatened and whined and eventually even begged before walking away with…the polar opposite of what he wanted.

I just don’t understand how this veritable God of Negotiation didn’t get a health care bill done.

He also got caught saying he won New Hampshire (which Hillary Clinton won, by the way), because it’s a “drug-infested den.” I’d like to just take a moment to thank Dorito Mussolini for taking those 4 electoral votes off the table for 2020.

Indiana Jones’ shittiest nemesis, Seb Gorka, went on Fux Nooz to peddle the somewhat novel theory that his boss will be able to pressure China to reign in North Korea with…the awesome power of his mighty Twitter feed!

Yes, Sebastian, I’m sure the spittle-drenched ravings of a septuagenarian toddler can move mountains. Good thing Shartboy wasn’t the President in Independence Day, he’d be out there futilely mashing his childlike fingers all over his smartphone, ten minutes later the whole human race would be reduced to some sort of nutritional paste.

H.R. McMaster and John Kelly have been sweeping some of the frothier nutjobs out of important national security jobs, and the alt-right is mad…der than usual. McMaster certainly didn’t make any new friends in the Infowars corner of the internet when he cleared Susan Rice of any wrongdoing in the faux unmasking “scandal.” To be fair, he’s probably a globalist lizard person.

Bat-Poo-Covered Propagandist Sean Hannity is taking this…poorly. And of course the basement-dwelling wing of the Drumpf movement keeps things predictably classy.

As you can see, it was kind of a slow news day. I mean, I think I saw something about Robert Mueller impanelling a grand jury in D.C., and I think maybe Sarah Huckabee Sanders got a pet rock for her office, but otherwise it —

Ok, maybe that news was pretty big. Hope so. Hope it lands like a comet right in the middle of the Pile of Sphincters currently polluting our executive branch, an extinction-level event that wipes Drumpfism from our county for all time, leaving nothing but Steve Bannon’s fossilized liver for future generations to study.

Yes, Rugged Robert impaneled the shit out of that grand jury, right in Washington D.C. (Admit it, you didn’t know “impanel” was a word before today, did you? I sure fuckin’ didn’t. Seen it so much these last four hours it’s probably gonna be my first kid’s middle name.) Word is the subpoenas are already rolling out for folks connected to Shithead Jr’s Excellent Adoption Collaboration Adventure.

Yeah, this means subpoenas for documents and testimony. It means this Flock of Rectums has to testify under oath. It means Boisterous Bob and his team of Crack Ambidextrous Ninja Cake Boss Lawyers (Though I’m still waiting for them to hire a demolitions expert. Gotta have a demolitions expert.), whatever they’ve found, have seen enough to keep digging. It means Jared Kushner’s going through six pairs of underpants per day.

It means these assholes are in some serious shit. It means this gang of cheap crooks, who lie like most folks breathe, are finally about to get marched into the room where lying is a prosecutable crime.

And just to grind the boot that stomped so firmly down on the Trumpal scrotum, CNN reports that Mueller’s probe has expanded beyond collusion and obstruction to whatever financial crimes happen to turn up during the investigation.

Now, Sharton Fink claimed this was a “red line” whose crossing he wouldn’t tolerate, but Mueller’s jurisdiction is clear. Personally, I’m picturing the first day of the impeachment trial, with the President raging from the witness stand as Mueller calmly, quietly, unbuttons his shirt, revealing his torso to be covered in tattoos of the incriminating tax returns Littlefinger tried so desperately to bury.

The CNN story also says the investigations have turned up communications regarding attempted collusion on the part of Russian agents, which mentioned somebody named…Manafort, or something? I feel like I’ve seen that name someplace.

Anyway, John Kelly locked the President in a crate in a corner of the Oval Office until he promised to be a good boy and not try to fire Mueller.

Apparently the Secret Service vacated their command center in Drumpf Dower?  Because this Assclown was trying to grift a little more cash from the organization employed to protect him and his family?  Christ on Melba Toast, how the fuck is this real life?

(Of course, one can’t help but wonder if these crooks might not be wild about the inescapable presence of subpoena-susceptible secret service agents while they’re busy with all their treason and collusion and what have you.)

Oh, and Mike Flynn popped up to revise his disclosure forms again, this time revealing a role with a Mercer-backed data analytics firm being investigated for…you guessed it, potential collusion with Russia.

It’s kind of fun, watching these bastards squirm as they keep getting caught in lie after lie. Six months from now, Steve Bannon’ll be amending forms because he forgot about that THIRD intern’s corpse webbed up in the corner of his hive-like West Wing office.

West Virginia governor Jim Justice decided to switch parties, leaving the Democrats to join the Republicans at the Candycorn Skidmark’s rally tonight. You gotta admire the political instincts of a dude who waits until a guy’s approval ratings hit 33% before rushing to stand beside him. Double-J’s like a guy who moves to Pompeii ten minutes after he sees the volcano erupt. Far be it from me to judge.

At the rally, Shart Garfunkel proudly proclaimed “there were no Russians in our campaign,” because the bar is lowering at warp speed these days. By the way, even that isn’t true, as everyone who remembers Boris Epshteyn will tell you.

Amusingly, Pumpkin Spice Goebbels waited until tonight’s rally, a week after his health care bill died like Collateral Beauty at the box office, to encourage his supporters to call their Senators to support it. Not since Lyndon Johnson has such mastery of legislative process been witnessed.

Speaking of, on the way out the door for their August recess, the Senate announced a series of pro-forma sessions, to prevent Smallhands Magoo from replacing Jeff Sessions with Omarosa or whatever other manic whim might cross his hair-tonic-addled brain. Really, nice job with all those tweets going after Senators in your own party, genius.

Speaking of the recess, I wish Yertle and his team nothing but the best as they spend the next few weeks explaining to their constituents, “Hey, yeah, we totally tried to murder a whole bunch of y’all, but the good news is, we’re such a bunch of clown-like fuck-ups, we couldn’t get it done!”

And while I hate to wrap up on a down note, it appears that Sean Spicer has turned down Dancing With the Stars, boooo. Producers allegedly tempted Spicey by offering him the chance to perform the traditional “Dance of the Seven Bushes,” but the recently deposed press secretary wants to confine himself to private humiliations, at least for the near term.

Before I sign off for the evening, I do need to issue an apology to you, readers. I overlooked the story about Tangerine Idi Amin turning down the opportunity to play the President in a Sharknado movie because he decided he’d much rather fuck shit up for realz, and if crap like that slips through the cracks, what the fuck am I even doing here?

Anyhow, I’m gonna go sit in the corner of my padded cell and smear poems about my shame on the walls. In my own feces, of course. What else can one do when shit is this goddamn insane?

…actually, I want to leave y’all with a bit of good gnus…