LIKE AND SHARE, ‘ERE WE DIE IN THE ATOMIC FIRE!

I tell ya what, maybe I’ve been blowing things out of proportion these last few weeks. Yeah, stuff really seems to have settled down, maybe all this worry has been for no-

Oh, hang on. I’m behind on my cell phone bill, my data got cut off. Lemme pay that off real quick, see if I missed anything…

…

…

Oh. So we’re having a 21st century nuclear standoff, where the fate of all life on Earth hangs on the whims of two buffoons with the personalities of Kids Who Don’t Make it to the Second Reel of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?

Neat.

(I thought it was weird everybody was still talking about nothing but Twin Peaks on Wednesday.)

Well shit, y’all. Let’s make ourselves a little time capsule, so that when aliens land, centuries from now, their archaeologists understand the petty shit we were bickering over in the hours before we were all annihilated by toddlers.

So, Mike Pence keeps hiring heavy-hitter GOP campaign operatives, for reasons that are TOTALLY NOT RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT AFTER YOU GET THROWN IN JAIL FOREVER, DONALD, HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT, WE HAZED THE CABINET TOGETHER, DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE MADE WILBUR ROSS EAT THE SOGGY CRACKER? WE ARE A BAND OF BROTHERS!

The Shart House has been under fire for its silence regarding the terrorist attack on a suburban Minneapolis mosque, but don’t worry, they finally sent the Nordic God of Bedside Manner, “Dr.” Sebastian Gorka, out to smooth shit over for the cameras.

Seb’s volcanic take was “Ve do not know iff zis vas an actual act uf terrorism, or if it vas a valse vlag operation, designed by tricksy liberals to make real Amerikans belieff in racism, vich iz fake.”

Lemme remind errybody real quick that Seb Gorka is a LEGIT NAZI. A year ago, it would have been a front page scandal if an American President had a fucking PHONE CALL with this fascist shitstack, and now he’s being trotted out to say that Maybe These Muslims Bombed Their Own Temple to Make White Folks Look Bad.

Fuck it. LAUNCH THE FUCKING MISSILES, KIM!

See that thing in Vice? That thing where SHARTUS gets a folder, twice daily, full of favorable press coverage and flattering photographs and the little poems Stephen Miller writes on scented paper?

Yeah, taxpayers are paying some kid to sit in some supply closet at the Pentagon, using photoshop to shrink the President’s ass in golf photos so that he doesn’t throw a tantrum and send armed drones to the districts that voted for Hillary.

…that kid’s actually got the most important job on the planet, doesn’t she?

Oh fuck, what’s THIS shit? Erik Prince, the Blackwater douche, has a plan to PRIVATIZE THE WAR IN AFGHANISTAN!

Oddly enough, Erik’s plan amounts to “Write Erik Prince a giant fucking check and turn him loose!” Steve Bannon, who made a documentary about how rad Sarah Palin is, and Jared Kushner, who wrecked a newspaper his daddy bought for him, think this plan is the bee’s fuckin’ knees, so the President is probably figuring out if he can set up a side grift hooking Prince’s boys up with Trump-branded helmets and k-rations.

Sleep tight!

Oh, and Jeff Sessions keeps instigating Justice Department heel turns, this time switching sides in an Ohio voting rights case. Y’see, Ohio, everybody’s favorite swing state with a Republican Secretary of State, wants to purge voters from the rolls if they’ve missed an election or two. That a ridiculously unpopular president, smuggled into the White House thanks to an obscene trick of the Electoral College after finishing in second place in a low-turnout election, will shortly be facing an electorate freshly invigorated by an infusion of Spicy-Hot Resistance is, I’m told, just another of those zany, zany coincidences.

Meanwhile Paul Manafort found out exactly what Robert Mueller would do for a Klondike bar…apparently sending the FBI out on a pre-dawn, no-knock raid to one of his residences!

Yep, a couple weeks back, the FBI got a warrant (which means they had to demonstrate they had a good damn reason for the raid), knocked on Paulie Ukraine’s BEDROOM DOOR, and turned the place upside down looking for tax docs and foreign banking records.

My sources tell me that Manafort, while generally pleased that the FBI didn’t seem to notice his pirated bluray disc of THE NUT JOB 2: NUTTY BY NATURE, is still more or less shitting his pants from dawn till dusk these days.

Weirdly, all those frothing-mad tweets the Marmalade Shartcannon sent out a lil’ while ago? The ones where he shit directly down Jeff Sessions’ throat for recusing himself from the Russia investigation? Yeah, those happened a couple hours after the Manafort raid.

WACKY.

Anyhow, I’m sure the Manafort hit piece your boy published in the National Enquirer will get the fuzz off your tail, Donnie.

Hey, speaking of Mueller, it seems the Candycorn Skidmark has been sending him friendly little messages of greetings and gratitude! How neighborly!

It’s so fucking funny watching this blundering doofus futilely try to work the refs. He’s out merrily golfing in Bedminster thinking, “I may’ve committed Honey Bunches of Treason, but that tray of brownies I sent to the guy investigating me will clear the whole thing up!” EVERYBODY FUCKING LOVES IVANKA’S BROWNIES.

Senator Ron Johnson, weighing in on the recent (ginormous) failure of the GOP Health Care bill, posited that perhaps John McCain’s brain tumor was a factor in his surprise, bill-killing vote, because it was past his old man bedtime, and he probably thought they were asking him if he wanted to watch one more Murder, She Wrote, but it was one he’d already seen, so he gave the thumbs down. Because Ron Johnson was carved from a block of PURE CLASS.

…ok.

So let’s talk about NORTH KOREA.

Ah yes. Northernmost of the Koreas.

Our Idiot Manchild President decided it’d be a good idea to keep antagonizing this oddly-overarmed third world shithole, because people who aren’t potential trophy wives don’t register as “human” in his pea-sized brain.

He spouted some tough-guy talk about “Fire and fury” or “Ripping out their eyes and skull-fucking them in front of their wives” or some shit, with his arms tightly folded around himself, in the universally-recognized I’m-talking-out-of-my-ass-while-simultaneously-shitting-myself-that’s-kind-of-a-neat-trick-yeah? gesture. Truly, he is Eisenhower reborn.

That literally happened while I was shitting. I pop into a Panda Express restroom, I do my thing, I wipe, I come out, and I guess the President has threatened a nuclear first strike on a country that might react god knows how, because it’s governed by a Looney Tunes Dodo WHO HAS THE FUCKING BOMB, YOU NUMBNUTS!!!

First thing Dorito Mussolini did this morning was brag about all the badass modernization of the nuclear arsenal he’s done since he took over! Now, the truth is, he hasn’t done jack shit, but that won’t stop the posturing, of course. Who knows, maybe he gave a top secret order, and now all the warheads have little tiny sawblades attached to them that spin really fast and fuck up anybody who gets too close to the bombs before they liquify every ounce of organic matter for miles in every direction.

Decals. That’s probably it. He had them slap lighting bolt decals on the nukes, BAM, MODERNIZED.

Some creep called Robert Jeffress, who I guess is some kind of hate rally warm-up act/mega-church pastor, is making the rounds screeching about how he ate some Little Debbie cakes four years after their expiration date, and then he saw God, and God told him that he sent the Man With Phalangeal Stunting to this World of Sin in order to cleanse North Korea from the face of the earth in holy fire or some psychotic apocalyptic shit or other.

Now, I don’t keep up with the evangelical movement, and while I’m enjoying the way they’ve permanently ceded the moral high ground in propping up such a pathetically obvious charlatan as Donald J. Trump (The “J” stands for “I Steal From Charity to Buy Paintings of Myself JUST LIKE FUCKIN’ JESUS“), but for real folks…it takes about 8 seconds worth of video to figure our this Jeffress tool is full of shit up to his eyeballs. Y’all really are nothing but rubes, aren’tcha?

Basically, everybody in the cabinet is saying something different. Rex Tillerson‘s all “Shucks, he didn’t mean it, he’s just a big dumb galoot” and Mad Dog Mattis is trying to posture while simultaneously walking back the red line before the ghost of Peter Sellers decides he’s heard his cue and it’s time to take the reins. Somewhere, Ben Carson is doubtlessly suggesting North Korea use their missiles to store grain.

And now you’ve got North Korean generals talking about how the Shart is “bereft of reason” and what he says is “a load of nonsense,” and you’re all, “I KNOW, RIGHT, pull up a fucking bar stool, you military dictator you, I’ll tell YOU about “bereft of reason,” shit, did you see the rally where went off on the mosquito that was buzzing around him?”

In the background, H.R. McMaster’s busy working up a powerpoint that says people on Guam really love buying Trump Steaks so the President doesn’t decide that letting them take the hit is worth bumping his approvals to the low forties.

All I know is, if Kim Jong-un suggests Drumpfy isn’t really a billionaire, we’re all gonna fuckin’ die.

Anyway, we still don’t have an ambassador to South Korea, but hell, what’s the worst that could happen?

Oh, right. Nuclear holocaust.

Anyway, what else is going on?

Shiny New Chief of Staff John Kelly has had some impressive success in bringing military discipline to the Shart House…but he went a bridge too far when he tried to reign in the Circuit Peanut Manbaby’s precious Twitter account!

“NO! I’m the President, and you won’t let me start any wars or launch any nukes or grab any pussies SO I’M NOT LETTING YOU TAKE AWAY MY TWITTER!!!” the most powerful man in the world raged, before wearing himself out and falling asleep on the floor of Kellyanne Conway‘s office. “He’s colicky today,” General Kelly said, wearily, carefully setting the nuclear football on the other side of the room so as not to wake the President.

And don’t forget, coming soon to a drive-in near you: Gamera, Jr versus Shartzilla! In the Battle for Blame! Nuclear-fueled egos wrapped in cheap rubber monster costumes, pathetically flailing at each other through the media! IN REAL 3-D!

Yep, I guess Yertle was calling out Donnie for having “unreasonable expectations,” like that Young Mitch had any idea how to pass legislation (spoilers: nah) or that’s it’s possible to spend thirty minutes talking about health care with Rand Paul without wanting to pass a bill that just strips health care from Rand Paul under all circumstances until the end of time.

Team Shart shot back, riding McConnell’s withered reptilian ass for failing to deliver on a 7-year promise to provide thousands of fresh souls to his Vengeful Tortoise God, because nobody’s bothered to tell him that his inevitable impeachment trial will take place in the United States Senate.

Sean Hannity, whose ongoing meltdown is the best thing on tv, reacted with predictable restraint.

On the lighter side, somebody inflated a giant balloon chicken with Drumpf-like hair by the White House tonight.

I can handle all of this insanity, I really can. But then I found out that we had a chance to throw Jill Stein in jail today, and it slipped through our fingers?

Fuck everything.

Glen Campbell got out while the gettin’ was good, I tell ya.