Late thoughts on the day’s madness…

Y’know what’s absolutely fucking nutty, friends? I look at today’s news, which would have made newspapers in any other year in human history shriek like banshees, and I think “Meh. Not really up to the standards of say, last Wednesday.”

In short…shit be cray.

Over the weekend, David Lynch’s TWIN PEAKS returned to television, and Mississippi lawmaker Karl Oliver celebrated by saying that people who oppose the removal of monuments dedicated to treasonous confederate losers should be lynched! Isn’t it fun that there are still old white dudes in the south who want angry mobs to carry out extra-legal murders of folks who oppose racism? It just gives you Andy-Griffith-style warm fuckin’ fuzzies, makes you wanna pour cough syrup and Sudafed into a big ol’ vat of your gramma’s sweet tea, slap on a white hood and ride around burning crosses in some lawns, DOESN’T IT? Not to get all editorial, but fuck each and every single person who decides that Protecting Confederate Monuments is a cause worth fighting for.

Speaking of lynching…oh, what’s that? You thought that there would only be one story about lynching, because it’s the 21st century and we’re more civilized than that? Nah, brah, we’re in Donald Trump’s Amerikkka now, and you’re lucky we’re not quite to the point where you need a special newsletter JUST for fucking lynching news.

Anyway, Representative Al Green, who recently called for the Orange Julius Caesar’s impeachment on the floor of the House because he’s ahead of his time, like the Elon Musk of taking our country back, shared some of the death threats he got from the little shartkins, including yes, talk of stringing him up, from the type of dickless jagoffs who watch Mississippi Burning and get the same wistful nostalgic feeling that I get from hearing Kenny Chesney sing a song about drinking beer in high school.

And then, goddammit, on the University of Maryland campus, Richard Collins III was actually lynched, stabbed to death by a 22-year-old wannabe Klansman piece of human garbage, just the latest act of horrifying violence perpetrated by the increasingly brazen white supremacist movement. And our President, who can’t let a sketch comedy parody pass without comment, won’t say one fucking word of condemnation about this shit.

Beyond that, the weekend was relatively quiet.

The Marmalade Shartcannon left on his Big Boy trip, and it was nice to be rid of him for a bit, wasn’t it? For at least a few days, this pussy-grabbing fraudster wouldn’t defile the Oval Office with his oozing indecency.

And boy howdy, do the Saudis have our Idiot Manchild President figured out. Give him a shiny gold medal, project his bloated Harkonnen face on the side of building, and he’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Sell you weapons the Obama administration wouldn’t? Shit, he’ll even have his boy, Feyd-Rautha Kusher BARGAIN AN AMERICAN COMPANY DOWN SO YOU GET A BETTER PRICE. Pressure for human rights violations? I don’t see any need for that, behead whoever the fuck you want, I’ve never seen my fat fucking head so big before!

The Saudis even sweetened the pot with a cool hundred-million-dollar donation to Ivanka’s foundation which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT from the Saudi donations to the crooked Clinton foundation in that it is much fucking larger.

Oddly, after months and months of telling everybody that only through the Unrivaled Mystic Power of Saying ‘Radical Islam’ Aloud could terrorism be forever vanquished, Donnie TOTALLY CUCKED OUT because he is the Cuckiest Cuck who ever Cucked. He also bowed to the Saudi king, who then fucked his wife while he watched, because he is a Cuck.

There was also that whole thing with the Orb, but by this point in the day, literally every single Orb joke has been told, so just insert your favorite in this paragraph and give me credit for it, okay?

Incidentally, it took about a day and a half for the Velveeta-Stuffed Tick to start cancelling events, citing “exhaustion.” Hillary Clinton could not be reached for comment as she was busy shotputting bowling balls off the mountain she had climbed just because it was there. Don’t worry though, Shartboy sent a replacement to cover for him. Oh, no, not like, the Secretary of State; he’s an oil baron who doesn’t have any relevant experience. He sent his daughter, who designs costume jewelry. Because we’re a hereditary monarchy now. Did you miss that meeting?

Wilbur Ross, still surly at having been left out of the quest to the Lonely Mountain, tagged along on his boss’ trip in case he needed any money laundered. He marveled at the lack of protests he encountered in a nation where protests are illegal. In fact, upon learning that dissent is sometimes punishable by beheading in Saudi Arabia, ol’ Wilbur’s withered dwarf wang became partially erect for the first time in lo these many centuries.

Shart-o the Clown then left the Middle East for Israel (his words, not mine). He wasted no time in confirming that Israel was indeed the source of the classified intel he leaked The Spy Firm of Sergei and Sergey, as only a man of such limited intellect can; he defiantly informed the media that they were dastardly and dishonest in reporting that he had told the Russians that Israel was the intel’s source, which is something literally no one accused him of. Everyone was embarrassed at how triumphal he looked, like some dipshit kid beaming that he just own-goaled himself.

Oh, and Michael Flynn invoked his fifth amendment privileges today.

(This space inserted to give you time to look up old statements and tweets where Flynn and his allies inferred the guilt of various members of the Clinton State Department for invoking the fifth. I’ll get a fudgcicle and meet you back here in five.)

Anyway, yeah, he’s choosing not obey his subpoena, which doesn’t legally apply to the documents in question, so now we’ll see if these Republican-controlled committees have any teeth. Having staved off his reckoning for another day, Flynn returned to his basement, where he’s set up all his green plastic army men, who he likes to lead in imaginary “Lock her up” chants, as old Abu Ghraib torture videos play in the background for comfort.

Speaking of Flynn, it broke later that he lied to Pentagon investigators about his shady-ass Russian income, according to a letter from all-around-badass-and-also-Congressman Elijah Cummings, but it’s not like lying to a federal investigator is a crime.

Wait, what? Oh. It is a crime, y’say? Well shit, Mikey Me Boy-o, you’d best offer something real real special if you want that immunity you’re always askin’ for. Cuz honestly son, you’ve broken more laws than an entire NFL team.

In the background, some of the particularly leprous souls in the right wing media scumosphere have decided to aim for the REALLY exclusive circles of Hell, and continue exploiting the death of Seth Rich despite the total debunking of their story and that whole basic-human-decency-in-the-face-of-a-grieving-family thang. Sean Hannity and Newt Gingrich keep shrieking about it because if some malicious 4chan rando is right, and if every single element of the Dagwood Sandwich of leaked evidence turns out to be phony, this somehow exonerates Team Shart of the whole Russia thing so who needs decency? I’m not a religious man, but if there’s an afterlife, Hannity and Gingrich are getting the straight Human Centipede treatment, and you can fucking print that.

In an ominous reminder of the rapidly approaching day the terms of their agreement come due, Satan opened a massive sinkhole just outside Marm-a-Lago this morning.

While I’ve got your attention…Be honest, how many times did you watch that video of Melania slapping his grubby, orb-stained hand away? In slo-mo and all? Poor Donnie. Do they have pee hookers in Riyadh?

And then the Shart budget landed, and somehow it’s crueler and more asinine than your already low expectations prepared you for, like that Independence Day sequel. Massive cuts to everything from farm subsidies to food stamps to children’s health programs to federal employee pensions to meals on walls, all to finance enormous tax cuts for the wealthy, who will then, in their benevolence, create All The Jobs, instead of doing what they’ve done at every other point in human history, which is buy museum-quality paintings to eat triangle-shaped sandwiches off of, because fuck you, plebes.

(He wants to cut Habitat for Humanity, probably because he can’t seem to find an FBI director who will bring him Jimmy Carter’s head on a plate. There’s actually a substantial increase in funding for something called “The Soylent Green Initiative,” anybody know what that’s about?)

He also proposed cutting the national debt by selling off half of the Strategic Petroleum Reserve, cuz it’s not like there’s any scenario where we might need some extra oil, right? Besides, Ben Carson wants to use the extra space to store grain.

Hey, speaking of money, have you seen all those stories about all the Big Expensive Lawyering Up all Pumpkin Spice Himmler’s collaborators are going to have to do? When I think about Sessions and Bannon and Kellyanne and the rest going broke defending themselves, it brings a tear* to my eye. I’m particularly looking forward to hiring Stephen Miller to work as a dunk-tank clown for every birthday party I have for the rest of my fucking life.

(*A tear of raw, unrefined, motherfucking JOY.)

Late in the day, WaPo broke the news that Dorito Mussolini’s obstruction of justice didn’t stop with FBI Director Comey. Nah, seems he also asked DNI Dan Coates and Admiral Michael S. Rogers, head of the National Security Agency, to do him a solid and sweep that lil’ ol’ Russia story under the rug. And of course there are memos. Which are now being passed over to Special Counsel Mueller, TEE FUCKIN’ HEE.

Friends, this might be controversial, but I don’t think our President is very smart. He just stumbles around, asking every third dude he comes across to shut down all these investigations into, well, HIMSELF, without a single passing thought that anyone would mind, or that he might be breaking some very fat, thick, laws.

Shit, Toupee Fiasco spends so much time obstructing justice, you wonder when he finds time to golf.

And then fucking Manchester happened, and I don’t have anything to say about that except…tell the folks you love that you love them, shit is fucking fragile.