Just Another Day Full of Shitty, Mediocre, Assclowns Fuckin’ Shit Up

I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore, folks. Somebody stapled my feet to the floor of the carousel we call the news cycle, left me with nothing but 300 pounds of cotton candy to eat, turned on CNN, and ran away laughing.

Whelp, we all woke up to the news that the Spraytan Cray Man announced via the Pneumatic Tweeting Machine that he was, by fiat, banning transgender Americans from serving in the military.

Yes, Donald J. Trump, (the “J” stands for “Stolen Valor,”) multi-time draft dodger, the dude who doesn’t even have the sack to fire Jeff Sessions, decided to shit on and dehumanize thousands of folks who’ve sacrificed in ways no one in his cheap grifter family ever will.

The idea seems to be that if he rolls back the rights of a small, vulnerable minority that his frothing, “evangelical” base loathes and fears, maybe they won’t notice that he betrayed his country and broke every promise from bringing back manufacturing jobs to building his big stupid wall to getting Scott Baio back on a Thursday-night sitcom.

As a side note, the Pentagon apparently found out about this at exactly the same time the rest of us did, because why the fuck would the President bother to actually think before he does anything?

But it gets worse. Here’s the first SCROTAL tweet in the series that would announce the transgender ban:

After consultation with my Generals and military experts, please be advised that the United States Government will not accept or allow……

Fuck, what does THAT mean? And because it takes Il Douche nine whole minutes to finish typing out the rest of his sentence with his barely-functional toddler hands, the United States military waited nine of the longest minutes in human history to see if the deranged Manchild occupying the Oval Office was declaring war on North Korea in a motherfucking Tweet.

Luckily (?), he was just being a gigantic, bigoted, sack of shit. It’s like the Cuban Missile Crisis, only with idiocy instead of geopolitics.

In the magically-televised-now press briefing, Sarah HuckSands wasn’t able to answer basic questions about Shartboy’s ban, of course, because why would the government work out the details of a thing before announcing it to the world? SHS even got pissed at the press for asking questions any rational human being would ask, and threatened to end the briefing if reporters kept asking them. Suuuuuuuper-normal.

Also, I guess Ministress of Propaganda will henceforth be opening her briefings by reading a letter from some gushing Drumpkin, praising the God Emperor for all his greatness? That’s another totally normal thing that happens in America all the time! It’s only a shame that Norman Rockwell isn’t around to paint Sarah Huckabee Sanders reading a creepy propaganda letter to a despairing press corps, amiright?

Anyhow, things’ve been pretty rough on Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet lately, so last night he retreated to his safe space; a campaign/Klan rally in Youngstown, Ohio. Naturally he boasted about his crowd size, buuuuuuut while he played to a sold-out crowd, he was booked in a small-town hockey park that held about 8,000, less than a minor league baseball field. Let me remind you that a band that can sell out stadiums doesn’t play state fairs.

So the Marmalade Shartcannon played all his greatest hits for his pathetically tiny crowd. Free from the weiner-shrinking gaze of the fact-checkers, he gleefully lied about all the mining jobs he wasn’t creating, and the bloodthirsty brown-skinned monsters who aren’t cutting poor pony-tailed white children into pieces just for shits n’ giggles, and about how Salma Hayek wanted to date him, but he said she was too Mexican, and so she ran away and cried.

High on unearned self-regard, the Velveeta Urinal Cake even declared himself to be more Presidential than anyone but Lincoln! This actually may open up a whole new avenue for resistance, as my sources tell me that Zombie Chester Arthur has risen from his forgotten grave, and he is PISSED OFF.

So I guess DoJ (Which I pronounce, out loud, as “dooj,” try it, “Doooooooooooj.”) says that an old business partner of Paul Manafort turned out to be a bigshot player in the Russian organized crime/oligarch/money-laundering-through-New-York-real-estate circles that so many members of the Shart Administration keep getting tangled up in. These coincidences keep getting zanier and zanier, don’t they? I bet in the end, it turns out Drumpf is Bannon’s real dad, and Eric is married to Betsy DeVos, but sorry Donnie, you’re still not allowed to fuck Ivanka. Truly, these are the Days of Our Lives.

CNN tells us that Matt Drudge keeps popping up at the White House, maybe just to hang out and watch Robot Wars, but he’s always eating Stephen Miller’s Lean Cuisines, and I guess he’s getting pissy about how Orange Julius Caesar isn’t keeping his campaign promises.

Heh. Get in line, Matty.

Failed Reality Star/Somehow the Secretary of Fucking Energy Rick Perry claimed the coveted “Golden Assclown” trophy today, a title awarded to the member of the administration who most humiliates his country through acts of grotesque incompetence. It seems Perry, who you’ll remember didn’t know what his job was until he accepted it, spent 22 minutes on the phone with a couple of Russian pranksters who convinced him they were the Ukrainian Prime Minister, because Rick Perry, despite being one of the most experienced Cabinet officials currently serving, is a gigantic fucking dope who would lose his own dick if he didn’t keep a map of his groin in his pants pocket.

FUCK.

Anyhow. So where’re we at with the DIE, PEASANTS, DIE!!!, excuse me, “Health Care” bill?

Well, the John McCain Who Speaks made his heroic return to the floor of the Senate yesterday, delivering a rousing speech denouncing partisanship and calling for a return to regular order!

Little did the John McCain Who Speaks know that the John McCain Who Votes had just cast his (decisive) ballot to open debate on a bill developed outside of regular order, one that deliberately shut out all input from the Democratic Party!

The John McCain Who Speaks pounded the podium and boldly declared he would never vote the bill being considered, at least not without substantial changes! Six hours later, the John McCain Who Votes voted for the bill with no changes whatsoever!

One of these days the John McCain Who Speaks and the John McCain Who Votes are going to meet face to face, and thumb-wrestle for supremacy. Until then, the John McCain Who Speaks will continue to deceive cable news personalities into pretending the John McCain Who Votes doesn’t exist.

(Meanwhile Mazie Hirono, who is also battling cancer, keeps fighting to actually PROTECT health care for her fellow Americans. Mazie Hirono is the hero John McCain pretends to be, and people should talk about that more.)

Anyhow, the state of the health care debate in the Senate today is…theatre. Everybody’s voting on bills they know have no chance of becoming law, waiting for Mitch McConnell to stitch some monstrosity together, march it out to the floor, make it dance to Puttin’ on the Ritz, and see if it can get 50 votes.

Meanwhile Jeff Merkley keeps introducing amendments to slow shit down and get the GOP on the record opposing Puppies and Hugs and Basic Human Decency. Dean Heller offered a symbolic amendment pledging that Medicaid be protected, which he imagines will count for something when he eventually votes for a bill that guts Medicaid.

And so apparently it all boils down to “skinny repeal,” which is like “repeal” with a sugar-free syrup, maybe? Nobody knows for sure, but the skinny is (get it? GET IT?!?!?!?) that it’ll entail repealing the individual and employer mandates, which every rational expert tells us will strip coverage from millions and blow up the insurance markets, but FUCK, Y’ALL, Mitch McConnell wants to be remembered as a motherfuckin’ COWBOY, so let’s Wild Bunch this shit, bros!

I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen, but let’s all call our Senators and say “Hey, howzabout you don’t kill us?” and hope for the fuckin’ best. I think we’re gonna need to get out in the streets over this, Resisters.

Also, because the media can’t stop shitting in our lemonade by asking the shambling hordes of mouth-breathing Drumpf supporters what they think about things, we were treated to the knowledge that almost half of his voters believe that he won the popular vote last November. Digging a little deeper into the cross tabs, we learn that 32% of Shart voters assume network television broadcasts subliminal anti-Christian messaging, that 44% think hand-dryers in public restrooms harness the power of Satan, and that a full 82% believe the Moon is a glow-in-the-dark frisbee their neighbors hang from a tree in the backyard to fuck with their heads.

Word is, recently deposed punching bag Sean Spicer had a bunch of meetings today with all the big news companies. I imagine he was pitching a show called “The Spice Rack,” a cooking program where he verbally describes baking a cake while he obviously makes spaghetti sauce. FOOD NETWORK GASLIGHTING, BITCHES!!!!!

And now I guess Sam Brownback, fresh off a couple terms worth of burning down the majestic Kansas wheat fields and blowing up the Yellow Brick road, is getting a promotion to be some kind of Roving Faux Christian Ambassador/Scold, keeping with the current regime’s animating theme of Mediocre White Dudes Failing Upwards. Only in the Republican Party do they reward cataclysmic failure so generously.

And…what the fuck did Jeff Sessions do now? I JUST STEPPED ASIDE FOR TEN MINUTES TO TAKE A DUMP, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?

Nope, it’s real. The Justice Department of the United States of America, led by the Last Confederate, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III, stood in court today, and argued that civil rights law doesn’t grant protections to gay workers. Dooooooj isn’t even a party in the case. They just knocked on the door, said “excuse me, can I borrow a cup of jagoff? Also, gay people don’t have rights.”

Can you imagine having a soul as tiny and withered as Jeff Sessions? Seeing the writing on the wall, knowing your political career is weeks, even days away from being ended in disgrace by the very raging obscenity you yourself enabled, and saying “By gum, if I’m going down, I’m doing everything I can to roll back the hard-won rights of my fellow citizens before I go!”

If…IF Jeff Sessions has a soul, it’s shaped like the maggots that feast on roadkill. Specifically the ones that gravitate towards the lower intestines. Yeah, that’s Jeff Sessions, alright…a maggot devouring a mostly-smashed raccoon rectum on Highway 90.

Oh, and what’s this? Tangerine Idi Amin indulged in a little Mt. Rushmore fantasy? Tell you what, bro…we’ll carve your name on the toilet seat in the gift shop.

As per usual, the day’s news has bludgeoned my cranium like an avalanche of rabid, wrench-wielding honey badgers. In the not-at-all-unlikely scenario where my brain runs, screaming, from my skull as I sleep tonight, and I’m no longer around to write these reaps…remember, Shower Cap sez…VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS!!!!