Well, whoever had “it’ll get worse before it gets better” in the pool, congratulations, I guess. I’m happy to turn over your winnings so long as you can promise to deliver that second part. Anyway, the challenge before me right now is to get through this blog without saying “fascist” or “fascism” every other sentence. Wish me luck.

So, you may have missed it, but last night, the President of the United States, a liar, a con man, a thief, a fraud, a bully, a coward (but I repeat myself), a mouth-breathing shitwit, a serial sex offender, a walking sack of monkey crap, quite possibly the worst human being alive, terrified as the walls close in and the fruits of his failures drop and rot all around him, his polling numbers plummeting, forcing him to contemplate life beyond the shield of presidential immunity, proclaimed himself the “ally of all peaceful protesters,” even as police and the National Guard fired tear gas into a crowd of peaceful protesters in Lafayette Park, dispersing them so he could waddle over to St. John’s to pose for glamour shots while awkwardly waving a Bible he was clutching like a turd he was trying to hold by the clean end.

Now, I’ll tell you something, my dear, dear friends…those photographs are going to be in American history books for generations to come. The context, however, is up to us, right here, right now. I’m hoping the caption is “Terrified Loser’s Pathetic Authoritarian Stunt Leads to Historic Electoral College Blowout and Eventual Arrest,” but don’t forget the Stephen Millers of the world are angling for more of a “Dear Leader Crushes Vermin, Proclaims Self Turd Emperor For Life” kind of scenario, followed by lots of shouting and saluting and marching and god knows what other terrible, terrible, shit. This is a good time to triple-check that you’re registered to vote, is all I’m saying.

Protests continued after the sun set and the curfews kicked in, leading to the decidedly-not-awesome image of a U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopter deployed against Americans in the nation’s very capital. Donald, I’m sorry your parents didn’t love you (although clearly they were onto something there, you psychotic fuck), but military aircraft are not toys, and you don’t get to take your inferiority complex out on us, we have fucking rights.

What it comes down to here is that these protesters, and indeed all decent Americans, believe that Black Lives Matter, while our dirtbag Klansman President…disagrees. He disagrees so much he’s threatened to deploy the U.S. military on American soil to intimidate, and even kill his constituents. This dehumanization and violence seems to be his entire reelection strategy, and y’know, I think I’m probably gonna vote for the other fellow.

Word is, Toupee Fiasco gave in to his inner jackbooted thug because he was mad America was calling him “Bunker Bitch” on account of how he responded to the weekend’s protests by cowering in his bunker like a bitch. So this was a show of “strength,” you see. You might be tempted to question what, precisely, is “strong” about having a fucking platoon clear out a park for you ahead of a short stroll, but please remember this is a 73-year-old man who has yet to figure out simple devices like umbrellas or pants; expecting complex analytical thought from him is entirely unfair, and almost mean. Anyhow, immediately after getting his picture taken, Bunker Bitch slithered back to his bunker. What a little bitch.

And he sure does like talkin’ tough from the safety of that bunker. On a conference call, he berated the nation’s governors for being insufficiently murderous, demanding they “dominate” the protesters using military force, pausing only to ask Chief of Staff Mark Meadows to bring him a new juice box and wash his security blankie, which he had once again soiled in terror. See, Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops wants his police state, but he wants the governors to impose it for him. “Bunker Bitch” isn’t just a moniker, it’s an entire lifestyle; sorta like fascist Goop.

Oh, but good news everybody, even though the country is burning, FLAGS ARE FINALLY SAFE. Yes, Strawberry Shartcake, attuned as ever the issues the public cares most about, figures his all-new, sex-criminal-infused Supreme Court is totally open to slapping an asterisk on the First Amendment, and he really isn’t giving the pandemic so much as a single passing thought, is he?

Ok, the REAL good news is that Senate Republicans have finally had enough, gassing Americans peacefully exercising their constitutional rights was one atrocity too far, and they will tolerate no more. Mitch McConnell and John Barrasso said so during a press conference where both men were riding on talking unicorns and then I woke up in the real world where they didn’t do shit.

Naturally, the Turdmaggot Administration told a bunch of easily-disproven lies about their appalling crackdown, because the Monday Night Special is a free side of gaslighting with your fascism. “We didn’t use tear gas!” they insisted, to the crowd that was tear-gassed. “People were throwing shit at us,” they bellowed, proving only that they weren’t carved by Gepetto. Naturally, it turned out Bilious Billy Barr ordered the attack personally, in what was surely the most gratifying moment of his entire shitty authoritarian life. Personally, I would like William Barr to spend the rest of his life as unhappy as possible at the direction this country is taking, wouldn’t you?

Across the country, local police forces decked out like Call of Duty avatars responded to those protesting police brutality with…an awful fucking lotta police brutality. Now, I confess I never studied public relations, but this seems a wee bit on the counterproductive side to me. Some of the most abusive officers have been fired, and some are already facing charges, which is good. Of course, with over 100 separate instances of police targeting journalists, it seems the argument isn’t “is excessive police violence a thing?” but rather “do you think you can fucking stop us, peasants?”

Now, there are all kinds of rat-bastards slinking about in and around these protests, inciting violence and giving the entire movement a bad name. If I can find any spare time I’m considering publishing A Children’s Treasury of Dirtbag White Kids Causing Property Damage Black People Will Get Blamed For, lord knows I wouldn’t want for material. From the suburbanite mall looters to the masked creeps smashing windows to the skeezy little brat who set fire to the historic Metro Nashville courthouse, one natural resource we are in absolutely no danger of depleting is Shitty White People. I want a give a special shout-out to the utterly failed human who felt entitled to scream “all lives matter” while preparing to commit homicide with a fucking hunting bow; you’re going to be awfully popular in prison, bro.

Lost in the chaos, the Treasonweasel Administration continues its purge of patriotic law enforcement officials, forcing the FBI’s general counsel to resign over his role in the case against Mutinous Mike Flynn. Considering recently-released documents clearly show Flynn A) absolutely committed the crime he pleaded to and B) allowed himself to be manipulated by Sergey Kislyak like cheap off-brand Play-Doh, I confess I don’t see why this treacherous clod is worth wrecking the Justice Department over, but then, unlike the current occupants of the federal government, I actually love my country.

President Gas Station Urinal Cake has frequently come off during this Dagwood Sandwich of crises as a bit of a, how shall I put this, a bit of an unfeeling sociopath? Me, I don’t think that’s quite fair. Oh sure, he doesn’t give a single fuck about the 108,000 coronavirus deaths, and he’s doing everything he can to dehumanize protesters so he can justify assaulting or even massacring them, but I think you have to look at the whole picture. Honestly, doesn’t his unshakable loyalty to Vlad Putin bring a tear (admittedly a tear of rage) to your eye? Sure, his BFF* attacked the United States and invaded a sovereign neighbor, but Wee Don still does all he can to sneak his pal back into the G7; it would be really sweet if it wasn’t so, y’know, treasonous.

Meanwhile, Redactor General Barr grows more comfortable in his jodhpurs every day, casually lumping all protesters under one happy, enemy-of-the-state umbrella, bellowing DURR DURR DURR ANTIFA DURR DURR, knowing this would be all the evidence he’d ever need to rile up MAGA nation; they’re like Pavlov’s cult, you say “antifa,” “deep state,” or “Obamagate,” and they just start slobbering all over themselves. Or maybe they were already drooling, I neither know nor care.

One of the really fun things about life here in Hell is the way we’re all at the mercy of Mark Zuckerberg, a damaged manchild who, not unlike Shart Garfunkel himself, stumbled backwards into awesome power he willfully refuses to understand, and with it the accompanying responsibility which he is neither willing nor qualified to bear. Anyway, Zuck, whose cancerous hot-or-not platform has already been used as a tool of genocide once before, is quite adamant that he will not allow something silly like calls to remove a dime store Hitler’s violence-inciting rants from his hellsite interfere in any way with the sweet, sweet ad revenue that winds up in Mark Zuckerberg’s pocket.

I see George Will penned what political media types are calling a “scathing takedown” of Tangerine Idi Amin, a “(figurative) nuclear bomb,” and a “laugh-a-minute thrill ride, perfect for children of all ages.” Just take my word for it, there’s certainly no need to subject yourself to Georgie’s dreary, florid prose. (Wouldja believe he doesn’t say “shart” even once?)

Arkansas Senator Tom Cotton achieved his first erection in decades, practically lactating over the thought of deploying the U.S. military to mass-murder people who don’t agree with him, going so far as to insist upon ”no quarter,” a sickeningly specific military term literally calling for not just war on American citizens, but war crimes. When Cotton runs for President in a few years (and he will), let’s make sure to tie these bloodthirsty statements around his ankle like a cartoon anchor; you know the type, attached to a rope he doesn’t notice, so he drones smugly on and on until it finally yanks him into the sea, mid-rant? Of course, given the trajectory of the Republican Party, he’ll probably make that shit his official campaign slogan.

Florida Congresscreep Matt Gaetz attempted his own version of Cotton’s deranged murder fantasy, no doubt hoping to deceive Hairplug Himmler into perceiving him as a Big Tuff Guy instead of the Softest Boy in All the Land, which is what he indubitably is. Matty got a Twitter spanking, and whined about it like a child, because of course he did.

And of course the coronavirus lurks in the background, no doubt delighted at all of the fun new people it’s getting to meet, and positively giddy at all the cough-inducing tear gas providing that extra boost a contagion really needs to survive n’ thrive. It’s like a forgotten subplot, but I’m afraid the little fucker has a really showy number coming up in Act III.

Through it all, Joe Biden has remained a listenin’, kneelin’, sense-talkin’ fool. Joe meets people face to face while Bunker Bitch trembles in his basement. Joe offers plans while Donnie lobs tear gas. Joe’s out there reminding us what the word “presidential” means, just as the Merriam-Webster people were getting ready to strike it from the book once and for all. If you’ve got a buck to spare for a donation, now’s the time.

Ugh. Folks, I’m sorry it wasn’t very funny today, or very thorough. I’m angry, and I’m scared, and I’m sad, and I’m exhausted. And I’m a comfortable white dude, so compared to most folks, I’ve got it fuckin’ made. Anyway, if I missed anything, or misspelled anything, please forgive me, I find I start drinking earlier and earlier these days…

*Best Fascist Friend