Look, I certainly appreciate that the poo-flinging howler monkeys are no longer in charge. And I realize that it is not reasonable at this relatively early point in time to expect a political environment in which zero poo is flung at me by zero howler monkeys, but can we maybe have one week without poo, so we can like, wear our nice clothes for once, and then next week the monkeys can fling twice as much? No? Well I thought I’d ask.

The feral assclown clambake known as CPAC came and went, headlined by Shart Garfunkel’s grand return to the national stage, during which he was barely capable of stumbling through a feeble teleprompter speech, sleepily working his way through the well-worn Time/Life playlist of his greatest grievance hits, like some sort of bloviating, deposed autocrat version of Rick Springfield, opening for Robert Mugabe on the state fair circuit.

And y’know what? It’s already been forgotten, and Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot just waddled his powerless, Twitterless (but I repeat myself) ass back down to the golf course. That national anthem defiler made a bigger impression, honestly. But hey, if Lindsey Graham and his crew think there’s nothing more important than genuflecting before this half-flushed bowel evacuation, it just gives the Biden Administration a bigger spotlight to shine on their increasingly effective vaccine rollout, so go hog wild, campers.

Speaking of wild hogs, Paul Gosar swung straight to CPAC from a convention openly and unapologetically espousing white nationalism, without so much as dropping his robe off at the dry cleaners on the way, and not one of his caucusmates could muster even a half-assed “hey, cut that Nazi shit out, Paul” statement.

In fairness, it was difficult to hear the GOP’s Gosar silence over their total absence of condemnation of Madison “Spring Break at Hitler Beach” Cawthorn, following two newly published investigations into his past, which turned up multiple accusations of sexual misconduct on top of a largely fabricated biography.

Then there’s Dr. Ronny Jackson, who, surprise surprise, turned out to be even scuzzier than we initially believed, but that’s ok, the Children of the Candy Corn elected him to the U.S. Congress anyway, because he lied about their Turd Emperor’s weight that one time. Cool party y’all got there.

You want to scream, “these are profoundly immoral people who are clearly unfit for office” and Republicans are all “well yeah, that’s kind of our entire thing now” and you go “man, couldn’t y’all have picked a less shitty thing, like maybe a really elaborate secret handshake” and they say “well we are thinking about adding armbands.”

Anyway, don’t want to shock anybody, but Elaine Chao, already a notoriously deviant fucker of turtles, turned out to be just as corrupt as any other Turdmaggot Administration cabinet secretary, albeit one with the common sense to avoid sending staffers on lotion runs. Are there any prominent Republicans left that aren’t Nazis, criminals, or Nazi criminals? That could be an amusing little parlor game, now that I think of it.

We learned Hairplug Himmler and the Empress Malaria got themselves quietly, privately vaccinated back in January, at the White House, but refused to receive the shots on camera, I guess because if you start modeling responsible behavior in front of a cult carefully constructed around the single animating principle that Behaving Like a Sack of Festering Marmot Anuses is Good Actually, it gets tougher to get ‘em to rise up in rabid rage to murder your enemies.

None of this matters even slightly, of course, given the abominable atrocities inflicted upon poor ol’ Dr. Seuss, who was resurrected in a satanic baby-eating ritual by High Priestess Hillary Rodham Clinton, only to be crucified, drawn and quartered, burned at the stake, flayed, tarred, feathered, taint-punted, nipple-twisted, and otherwise CANCELLED.

Of course, outside the Fux Nooz fever swamps, in a magical kingdom some call “reality,” a handful of Mr. Geisel’s minor works have been pulled from publication, by his estate, because they contain (to put it mildly) racially insensitive imagery which is pretty darn difficult to defend, here in the 21st century. Nothing is cancelled, or, as Minority Leader McCarthy mendaciously claimed, “outlawed.” The Grinch’s efforts to steal Xmas are, as ever, ongoing; the controversy over the desirability of consuming green eggs and/or ham endures; Pop remains hopped upon.

Still, determined to overthrow cancel culture like a common presidential election, wingnuts began frantically buying up every Seuss book that wasn’t nailed down, rocketing the good Dr. straight to the top of the Amazon bestseller list, and steering a massive financial windfall to…the very estate they’re allegedly furious with. If you’re wondering why conservatives are so susceptible to propaganda that strikes you as My God This Wouldn’t Fool a Yak, I humbly offer up the decision-making process outlined in this paragraph.

Georgia Republicans advanced their insidious voter suppression scheme, shamelessly targeting Black voters with the surgical precision usually reserved for the decennial Gerrymandering Hullabaloo and Fish Fry, (“Souls to the Polls on Sunday you say? Thank you for making your GOTV operation so easy to isolate and outlaw, LOL!”) because these are the sorts of laws a minoritarian party passes, once it has decided that obtaining the consent of the governed is simply too much trouble.

FBI Director Christopher Wray, during a hearing on the Capitol Riot Which is Clearly Much Less Important Than This Dr. Seuss Crap, yet again debunked Cult45’s favorite new conspiracy theory, that said riot was the work of antifa in disguise. Y’know, if these nutjobs were right, antifa could totally rebrand as an acting school, because some of these folks bring a nigh-Day-Lewisian level of commitment to their roles.

Obviously, Wray’s unambiguous statements on the matter are only further proof that he is a deep state NeverTrump MS-13 lizard person himself, and when President Crotchrot is inaugurated for his second term, the FBI, under the direction of Matt Gaetz or Marjorie Taylor Greene or maybe just the soggy sweat sock next to Gym Jordan’s bed, will replace the entire agency’s corrupted workforce with 22 Proud Boys and a meth lab.

Oddly, that inauguration did not take place on March 4th, despite the wild-eyed certitude of QAnon deadenders. Ah well. They don’t seem to be tired of losing, and lord knows I’m always down to chug another pint of their saltiest tears, so let’s reschedule for sometime this summer, says I.

…should we give MAGA nation a collective head pat for getting through this latest promised rapture without building any gallows or storming anything? I’m a big believer in rewarding good behavior, but I confess I’m worried about ticks.

The feds are also looking into communications between the January 6th rioters and members of Congress, in case you were wondering why Josh Hawley got all sweaty n’ fidgety when Wray started talking about using cell phone data to investigate the insurrectionists.

You would think Governor Greg Abbott’s ravenous thirst for Texan blood would be sated by now, but no, he’s recklessly reversed his state’s coronavirus restrictions, taking a victory lap well short of the finish line, oh, if only some enterprising Greek fableist had thought to address such conduct. Anyway, people will die because of this appalling decision, but I feel like that’s a baked-in cost Republican voters accept nowadays, being a death cult and all.

Joe Biden referred to Abbott’s homicidal madness as “Neanderthal thinking,” leading to the sort of performative demonstrations of faux outrage that are surely the whole reason God made Marco Rubio. I’m starting to worry some of these folks might be overworked; between screaming about potato toys and children’s books and now this…there are only so many hours in a day for high-decibel gaslighting circle jerks, y’know.

Ron Johnson figured he’d slow down the passage of Democrats’ almost comically popular $1.9 trillion coronavirus stimulus package*, by insisting the entire bill be read aloud on the Senate floor, likely because he can imagine no horror greater than reading. I’m not real sure why another day of WE DEMAND YE SUFFER IN THE NAME OF THE DEFICIT, O YE WORTHLESS DOGS headlines is desirable for these creeps…it risks eating into the Seuss narrative, if nothing else.

Fortunately, outsmarting Ron Johnson is about as difficult as you’d think it‘d be, and at the end of the staged reading (the material was a bit dry, but the performers did their best) Maryland Senator Chris Van Hollen simply swept onto the floor, proposed cutting the period scheduled for debate down to three hours, and with no Republicans around to object, formally thwarted Johnson’s master plan to, uh, troll Congress out of helping the American people, I guess? No Moriarty is our Ron-Ron.

A little light this week, but I feel we’ve earned our weekend nonetheless. Hope y’all are movin’ on up in them vaccination lines, friends. Until the happy day when we can all cough and shake hands and rub up against one another again…stay safe out there.

*You are cordially invited to keep on clingin’ to that dusty, outdated playbook, Senator McConnell.