Ho hum, just another day in the never-ending struggle between the forces of good and evil. Here in the real world we don’t have shiny costumes or dragons…actually, it’s mostly very old white people in boring suits mumbling and writing letters to one another, but the stakes are distressingly similar.

So, the President of the United States of America misspelled “Kentucky” and blamed the controversial ending of a horse race on “political correctness.” When you observe this sort of behavior in a family member, you start having those difficult discussions about when it’s time to take granddad’s driver’s license away, right? I just hope somebody has replaced the actual, real, nuclear football with stuffed bunny, is all.

Kim Jong-un, perhaps looking to celebrate the platform on the world stage the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits gifted him in exchange for Not One Damn Thing, fired some new short-range missiles into the Sea of Japan. President Crotchvoid responded by praising the murderous autocrat, asking him if he’d like a back rub, or maybe another American tourist or two to torture to death. STRENGTH!

Unsatisfied with the jackhammer nut punch he’s already administering to midwestern farmers, and enraged that American consumers can still afford washing machines, the Manchurian Manchild threatened to dramatically increase tariffs on China ahead of a major trade negotiation, because he has confused belligerent bloviating with toughness, and believes everyone else is as stupid and infantile as he is.

Anyhow, stock markets dropped as the world once again wondered if this doddering, misinformed, nincompoop was really just about to blow up the global economy over his very fundamental misunderstanding of how trade works. In hindsight, it’s kinda funny that the founding fathers believed that in imposing a 35-year age minimum on the office, they’d successfully screened out potential presidents with sub-grade-school intellects. Not really ha-ha funny, but oh-hey-the-planet-of-the-apes-was-Earth-all-along funny.

I’m pitching a project tentatively titled Chicken Soup for the Resister’s Soul, and really all it is is a collection of videos of Ambulant Trashpile Laura Loomer melting down over her ongoing de-platforming. Sorry your dream of getting rich spreading the vilest imaginable hatred fell apart, kid….but then, I never got to play shortstop for the Cubs either. C’est la vie.

Florida Republicans moved a step closer to implementing their 21st century poll tax, as the GOP continues its steady regression into a Jim Crow cover band, playing all the biggest segregationist hits on the state-fairs-and-casinos circuit. We’re about six months away from Louie Gohmert reintroducing the Fugitive Slave Act on the House floor, I figure.

Kellyanne Conway is violating the Hatch Act again, and against the backdrop of so many existential threats to the American experiment, I think that’s frankly adorable. “Awwww…who would have lost her job months ago in any law-abiding administration? YOU would! YOU would! WHO’S A GOOD LITTLE PROPAGANDA MINISTRESS?”

Just a few short weeks after proclaiming total victory and vindication, Strawberry Shartcake has changed course, now insisting that Rugged Robert Mueller shouldn’t testify before Congress after all, probably cuz Democrats don’t deserve to see how completely exonerated he is. Eventually, we’ll have no choice but to enlist the talents of Nicolas Cage, in another globe-trotting Da Vinci Code knockoff, to reveal the secrets of Littlefinger’s exoneration, but for now, they must remain tantalizingly hidden. 

One super fun thing we’re doing these days is wondering if Hairplug Himmler will actually acknowledge the electoral spanking he’s headed for in 2020, or if he’ll barricade himself in the Oval Office with a year’s supply of Oatmeal Creme Pies and his daughter’s prom photos to jerk off to, because he’s not quite willing to give up that sweet charging-the-Secret-Service-to-pee grift just yet and also because the Presidency is the only thing keeping him out of jail.

And now we find the Marmalade Shartcannon retweeting Noted Evangelifraud Jerry Falwell, Jr.’s suggestion that he should get two extra years tacked onto his term as “reparations” for the Russia investigation, like a spoiled rich kid flipping the Monopoly board over right after he lands on the property you’ve been filling with hotels for the last hour. Ventnor Avenue, probably. Affordable, but you can really fuck somebody up good with that one if you play it right. Nobody ever lands on Boardwalk anyway. You don’t see Ventnor Avenue coming, is all I’m saying.

Anyway, this talk of getting a do-over extension is either majestically pathetic or the most terrifying thing any president has ever proposed, and I guess we won’t know which until 2021 when we’ll be able to gauge it by whether or not we’re in a civil war, NEAT.

The Genocidal Mustache Symbiotically Attached to John Bolton’s Upper Lip isn’t getting any younger, you know. And while most dudes’ midlife crises take the form of chasing younger women or buying motorcycles, most dudes aren’t bloodthirsty, racist, war-hawks with the ear of a bloodthirsty, racist, idiot president. And so we have dispatched an aircraft carrier strike group and a bomber task force and a traveling jug band to the Middle East, because John-John just wants to rain death on little brown children one last time while he’s still young enough to enjoy it.

The Fascist Farthuffer’s Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, reported to rich white guy prison today, making one last feeble play to recast himself as some sort of resistance hero on the way out. Look, bro, thanks for all the evidence, and please keep a bunk warm for your unindicted co-conspirator, but you’re never gonna be Mayor of New York.

Redactor General William Barr wiped his ass with a subpoena ordering him to turn over the full Mueller report to Congress, so Jerry Nadler and the Judiciary Committee have a vote scheduled for Wednesday to hold Billy in contempt. Ranking Republican member Doug Collins calls Democrats’ demands “perverse,” which is an odd way to describe the entirely understandable drive to learn as much as possible about an attack on the United States by a hostile foreign power, but I suppose if you’re hellbent on protecting the Trump Cartel at any cost, genuine patriotism must seem obscene.

Isn’t it thrilling, watching our constitutional crisis play out in slow motion, according to parliamentary rules, in correspondence composed in the strictest legalese? I think the next step should be an formal ball, where congressional Democrats and stonewalling administration officials trade subtext-heavy barbs while performing an elaborate group chamber dance. Tom Stoppard should script.

Hey, you’re never gonna believe this, but Ollie North’s replacement at the NRA is a wee bit racist. Yes, Carolyn Meadows thinks nobody in the Georgia 6th voted for gun control activist Lucy McBath because she’s a gun control activist, but rather because she took advantage of that greatest of all possible political advantages: being a black woman in a southern congressional district with a lengthy history of selecting the shittiest imaginable white people, from Noot Gingrich to Tom Price to Karen Handel. It’s a real fuckin’ meritocracy over there at the Death Merchant Lobbyist Welfare House.

Anyway, racism is otherwise completely dead in Georgia, as you can plainly see here.

A small army (much larger than Weehands McNodick’s inauguration crowd, I’m told) of former federal prosecutors signed a great big Hallmark card which says “Congratulations on being president, cuz that’s the only reason your justice-obstructing ass isn’t being prosecuted all up down Pennsylvania Avenue right now.” And yeah, SPOILERS, he’s not leaving office peacefully or quietly. Y’know, there’s a scenario where there are so many different law enforcement officers from different jurisdictions bickering over who gets to take him into custody the very moment his successor finishes the oath of office, that he slithers away in the confusion.

And now I see Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag has decided to tell Congress “no you may not see the President’s tax returns, they contain evidence of far too many crimes, we’ll take our chances at that one place where we hired more than a quarter of the staff, whaddya call it…oh yeah, the Supreme Court.” The Game of Thrones crew could learn a little something about cliffhangers from real life, don’tcha think? TUNE IN NEXT WEEK TO SEE IF THE RULE OF LAW IS STILL A THING!

I mean, I’m not enjoying the writing or the performances, but I’m absolutely going to watch, if only to see whether or not my country survives. I hope after this next season, the show gets cancelled, though. And replaced with something nice and dull. Low stakes. “Oh, Tom Daschle didn’t pay all his taxes? How SCANDALOUS!” That kinda thing.

“Short” one tonight, trying to get back on schedule after a Friday post. Anyway, there’s probably more. I just don’t care about the golf thing, or the fashion thing, and I REALLY don’t the baby thing, but no judgment to those who do. Ok, maybe a little judgment.