Don’t get me wrong, the addition of hope and anticipation to the customary outrage n’ despair cocktail has been a largely positive development, but, well, I may be feeling just a wee bit overstimulated lately. Anyway, I’m sure fourteen days of time passing like those last minutes before you’re allowed to wake up your parents on Xmas morning will be a breeze to bear, and I will in no way gnaw my fingernails down to the wrist.

Well, the Velveeta Vulgarian’s handlers have settled him into a comforting little schedule of safe-space rallies in the reddest swing state communities available; maybe it’s not the best strategy for reaching persuadable undecideds, but at least it keeps him from blurting gibbering nonsense like “LIBERALS WANT TO BLOW UP MOUNT RUSHMORE” on national television.

Anyway, Shart Garfunkel is lying more than ever, which is sort of revoltingly impressive in its own way, like the finals of the World Gravy Drinking Championship*. And of course he’s still attacking Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, in precisely the same ways that already inspired one white supremacist plot to kidnap and execute her, and while I’ve never been a fan of the so-called War on Terror, I confess I never thought I’d see the American President switch sides.

There’s lots of “rats fleeing a sinking ship” commentary these days, as vulnerable Republican Senators have suddenly realized this Trump fellow possesses an imperfection or two, but that’s not what’s going on here. We’re not talking about rats, this is the CREW OF THE SHIP, the very craven loyalists who put down the mutiny that might have saved us all, the ones who carried out Bloated Blundering Bligh’s orders as he steered the nation directly into an iceberg that turned out to be sixty tons of frozen, floating sewage, who’re trying to act as though the Turd Reich’s many crimes and failings just…I dunno, just happened while everybody was busy with the Sunday crossword.

John Cornyn wants us to know that despite all his public cowering and enabling, he was super-principled in private conversations that totally took place in real life, just ask his Canadian mistress. Oh, you’re useless in private as well? Guess that makes you a pretty shitty Senator, John-John; you should resign.

Trigger Warning: cyclopean horror on a cosmic scale. I…hesitate to even cover this. I know we’re battle-hardened after four years of non-stop atrocity, but maybe that means we’ve earned the right to look away now and then. No. We must gaze upon evil if we are to defeat it, and thus I call upon ye to screw your courage to the sticking place and gaze upon the abomination that is…Donald Trump dancing.

I see Mike Love’s fake Beach Boys played a fundraiser for the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus, to the chagrin of Brian Wilson and Al Jardine, aka the actual Beach Boys. I guess when your brand is Rock’s Biggest Asshole, you have to pull shit like this to stay relevant.

Still, in the Battle of the Boys, even with the Faux Beach taking the field alongside the Proud, you ain’t got shit, Dotard, cuz the motherfuckin’ BEASTIE BOYS, for the first time ever, licensed a song for use in a political ad, in support of Smilin’ Joe Biden. Huh, I’m in a coalition with Bill Kristol and Ad-Rock; shit’s been real weird lately.

By the way, did anybody call Love’s impostor crew the Bleach Boys yet? See, this is a white supremacist joke AND a he-told-us-to-drink-Clorox joke, so you’re really getting a bargain with this paragraph…obviously, things’re going really well in your political satire blog when you’re explaining your gags.

Well, President Ostomy Bag wants you to know he’s TIRED OF COVID. Not so tired that he’d use the awesome powers of his office to fight it, or even publicly model simple, effective behaviors, like mask-wearing and social distancing, which would save tens of thousands of lives, but tired of the way his botched pandemic (non-) response has kidney-punched his re-election hopes.

Yeah, we get it, you’re tired of Covid, because it’s a political anchor wrapped tightly around your hideous, molten-circus-peanut cankles. We’re sick of it too, of course, but more because it’s destroyed our jobs and closed our small businesses and, y’know, COST NEARLY A QUARTER OF A MILLION OF US OUR LIVES.

Still, the media are “dumb bastards” for covering the ongoing crisis that’s killed hundreds of Americans every single day for months, rather than, say, Hairplug Himmler’s pathetic fixation on the already-awarded Nobel Peace Prize, or the way he’s managed lately to smear that pulped yam make-up over almost his entire face, without the embarrassing trademark scalp line…almost.

Meanwhile, demonstrating the keen sense of strategy that has allowed Kim Jong-un to beclown him on the world stage for lo these many years, the Shart of the Deal has all but declared open war on America’s beloved, trusted, Dr. Anthony “If it weren’t for me he’d be pumping Lysol into the water supply” Fauci.

Because as awful as Eight Months of Chaos and Quarantine Born of Shit Leadership have been, voters are being told that the REAL problem isn’t the lethal virus the incumbent has failed to contain, or the ensuing economic carnage, but HUNTER BIDEN who…oh, man. He did all kindsa bad shit. He’s the Boogeyman wrapped in the Babadook dipped in warm liquid sin, and he’s gonna huff and puff and blow your Suburban Housewife American Dream down.

I’m not sure what Hunter is supposed to’ve done, honestly, though Senator Ron Johnson (R-Leningrad) certainly isn’t shy about playing the Hey Everybody You Already Hate is Also a Pedophile, What a Coincidence card, but then, he’s an idiot and a monster and a puppet. Yeah, yer mom must be proud, RoJo, her boy’s a multi-millionaire and STILL Putin’s lapdog.

Anyway, the whole bullshit story fell apart immediately, unsurprisingly, since it was apparently too blatantly shady for even such icons of journalistic integrity as Fux Nooz and the New York Post. Look, Rudy Giuliani did his best, okay? It’s just that all he had to work with was paste and uncooked macaroni, and to be fair, the instructions were in Russian.

The bad news is, the feral Republican base doesn’t need a story to make sense, and they won’t care about the fact-checking, all they want is a steady stream of reasons to hate whoever the Murdoch family wants them to hate.

On a 4-4 tie, the Supreme Court rejected the Pennsylvania GOP’s latest anti-democratic voter suppression attempt, but folks, Amy Coney Barrett is on her way, and soon there will be no more ties, only an extremist wingnut court, intent on using their stolen, illegitimate power to impose minority rule on a country that’s ready to leave Republican regressiveness behind. No jokes in this paragraph**, just a plea for you, Dear Reader, to get radical in a hurry about court expansion, about ending the filibuster, about statehood for D.C. and Puerto Rico. I love my party, I do, but they’re only going to take these drastic steps if we show them we have their backs.

You either enough make enough noise to change the world, or let ACB and her gang of theocrats whittle your rights away for decades.

In case you’re wondering why all the bald eagles are projectile vomiting and the Statue of Liberty is rotting away to nothingness before our very eyes, well, Redactor General William Barr has proclaimed that Gameshow Göring is acting in his “official capacity” as President when he battles the legion of sexual assault/harassment accusations against him, so we, the chump taxpayers, get to foot the bill for his legal defense.

I see we’ve got a fresh set of rules for the final presidential debate, including muted mics, and if I may be so bold, I’d like to propose that if others need to erect technological barriers in order to force you to behave like an adult for ninety minutes, leadership is not your calling.

And now I see Strawberry Shartcake is somehow incapable of navigating an hourlong conversation with 60 Minutes without throwing a very public tantrum and ok, look. This is a small story, but completely disqualifying. It’s not even the most disqualifying story in this blog post, and surely unworthy of cracking the Top 500 Reasons Donald Trump is Unfit for Human Interaction Let Alone Public Office, but it, by itself, should make every American, regardless of political affiliation, say, “holy crap, keep that unstable freak away from power!”

And yet.

Meanwhile, we learned the Turdmaggot Administration, in its zeal to terrorize migrants, has misplaced the parents of 545 children separated back in the heady days when John Kelly was too busy ripping families apart to leak “Oh, I knew that Donnie kid was trouble the moment he walked in” quotes.

Five hundred and forty-five children. This is why it’s okay, whenever you encounter some hectoring evangelical claiming to be “pro-life,” to just puke right on their shoes.

I see two stories of massive Trump corruption broke while I was writing tonight, but they’re probably too complex to land, thanks to the Republican strategy of overwhelming the public with unceasing bullshit propaganda. We’ll talk about Hunter Biden’s imaginary crimes, not Conman Don’s Chinese business ties. Not enjoying myself, here in Hell. Sorry, just being honest.

There’s still time to shoot some cash to our incredible team of Dem candidates n’ incumbents, which is why I made Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide! We’ve raised more than $30,000 so far…keep it comin’, Resisters!

Ok. Crunch time for my Kickstarter, friends. MINE is a nifty little space fable about leadership and limitations, it’s literally written with my political junkie audience in mind. You will dig it. And if you missed my first book, THE WORTH & THE COST, you can snag a copy of that one, too!

That’s all I got tonight folks. Back to watching the clock. If you haven’t voted yet, vote, you beautiful people, VOTE!

*I do not know if this is a real thing, nor do I wish to know.

**”There are jokes in the other paragraphs?” is an entirely worthy retort, but you’ll have to do better than that.