It’s hard to believe we were ever frightened of MAGA, watching them lie, broken, incontinent, and whinging, on the battlefield they themselves so enthusiastically selected. Mid-decade redistricting blew up in their dumb, dumb faces, just like the tariffs and the masked police thugs and the war, for they are stupid people with bad ideas.

And while it’s crucial we continue the rout until every last one of these dorks has been driven into the sea, I think it’s also important to take a moment to savor the lamentation of their women.

Because they wanted to come off all badass and inevitable, right? Gonna fire whoever and invade wherever and if you don’t like it, we’ll deport you to a foreign torture prison or maybe just gun you down in the street, FUCK AROUND N’ FIND OUT, LIBTARDZZZZZZZ…

…

…

…but then the clock strikes midnight and the coach turns back into a pumpkin and the footmen turn back into mice (well, rats) and instead of a beautiful princess in an enchanted dress you’re looking at a never particularly bright old man suffering from late-stage brain rot while failing to adequately appreciate those precious, fleeting final weeks of sphincter control.

And suddenly your long-term prospects seem less secure. Suddenly Grandpa can’t even whip up enough sycophantic fervor to purge a state-level party. Suddenly things’re so bad, voters want Democrats in charge of the economy, and you start to wonder, “Perhaps it is I who have FAed and must now FO?”

Anyway, the Iran War/Special Military Excurjamagig is going…well, who the fuck knows? One Ayotallah keeps issuing maniacal claims utterly divorced from reality and immediately disproven; the other hasn’t been seen in weeks.

It’s actually damn near impossible to figure out what’s going on. Last time I checked the official White House social media accounts, they claimed Iran had been cast into the Phantom Zone, and thus doomed to a nightmarish, eternal half-life, but even Newsmax hasn’t verified that one yet, so who can say?

Must be going well, or the Dotard wouldn’t be attempting to award himself the Medal of Honor. War should have more shiny baubles and fewer, like…irreversible geopolitical catastrophes to blunder recklessly into, don’t you think?

At least our brave warfighters can look forward to beefing up their dwindling rations with a side order of influenza, thanks to the ongoing heroism of the fellow from all those (ironically non-viral) push-up videos.

We were told Dear Leader rescued eight of the hottest women in all of Iran, seriously, 7.5s and above, from a burning building (that was burning because he bombed it), but the medieval theocracy says it never happened, and the whole thing probably turns out to be some sort of digital honeypot op to facilitate further generation of AI Lego propaganda content.

He’s gonna need those Iranian women at that big, big negotiation that’s just around the corner. With Saint Peter, right? Old man, you blew up a fucking school. You think that kind of blood washes off?

I see the generals’re cutting him out of the loop again; that’s a positive development. Might be best to load his calendar up with ballroom minutiae, maybe slip a cankling agent into the Diet Coke supply to nudge things along.

Look, I understand the president must be kept in a bubble snug enough to permit him the authority to rewrite the fundamental laws of mathematics on a whim, but if somebody could steer the old coot back to objective reality (and keep him awake) long enough to address the fertilizer crisis before it metastasizes into a starvation crisis, that’d be peachy keen.

As for the energy crisis, while I’m anything but happy about what I’m paying at the pump, I’ve decided to live vicariously through the United Arab Emirates’ bailout. As a lowly U.S. citizen and taxpayer, I naturally would never ask my president to prioritize my insignificant struggles over those of his billionaire autocrat business partners.

Honestly, for all the plebs’ bellyachin’, if you ask the grifters, times’re fucking fantastic. Turns out kakistocrats can get really quite creative when it comes to inventing excuses to dip into the federal treasury. A settlement here, a Pentagon contract there…before long, you’re looking at real money.

Who knew the United States government had so many potential profit centers? Why, there’re tens of millions to be made off sanctions relief alone. Probably not the best way to conduct international diplomacy, but that’s a problem for somebody who can look at their own right hand without contemplating death.

I assume the pardon pipeline is fully automated by now. Sure, give Ghislaine Maxwell one, why the fuck not? That’s gotta open at least one of the seven seals. Let’s get this party started.

Apparently you have to publicly swear fealty to the Big Lie before you’re allowed to chair the Federal Reserve now. So not all symptoms are improving, but the election nerds say there’s a solid chance we can get our democracy back up on its feet and into rehab as early as November, assuming nobody orders widespread nuclear strikes on blue cities.

…which Polymarket has at like, 36%, so we should be fine.

Always nice to see counterterrorism officials seeking “sugar daddies” online. Hard-working foreign intelligence operatives seeking to infiltrate the highest reaches of the United States government deserve a break now and then, too.

Lori Chavez-DeRemer resigned to spend more time with wine and strip joints. Devin Nunes is back on the job market, too; so if anybody has any pigs that need fucking, give him a look.

Sources tell me the leading candidate to replace Chavez-DeRemer as labor secretary is AI-generated bikini model Emily Hart, who, as a non-existent being created by an Indian med student to part horny wingnuts from their money, would rank among the most accomplished members of the president’s second-term Cabinet.

Instead of honoring our commitments to the Afghans who risked their lives to aid our nation’s cause, the Reich wants to ship them to Congo, a country in the middle of an existing refugee crisis, because such genuine, undeniable courage sorta undermines the whole “white supremacy” shtick. I’m sure the Stephen Millers of this world find their existence unbearable.

The visionary legal fabulists behind such classic assaults on American democracy as “Mike Pence can overturn the election” and “Jerome Powell runs a renovation ring out of the Fed” have somehow convinced themselves that they’re smart enough to frame the Southern Poverty Law Center as some secret, under-the-mask-in-a-Scooby-Doo-cartoon cabal financing a vast conspiracy to trick people into believing that racism exists.

Charlottesville was a hoax, y’see. Outside of the odd hate crime, anyway. Those pasty young men with the tiki torches all had (and have!) essentially normal-sized penises, no matter what you may’ve heard from the fake news media.

Anyway, I hear the FBI is staffing up as it completes a historic mission shift. Yeah, crime-fighting was already out, but obviously way more manpower will be required to protect Kash Patel’s reputation.

How much more? I mean, if we’re gonna need to hire federal agents to investigate every single journalist who ever gets a tip about Kash Patel doing something stupid, who’ll be left to farm and fly airplanes and such?

Now he’s suing The Atlantic over an admittedly humiliating profile of a dipshit drowning in his own mediocrity. And of course the fantasy of a discovery phase dances in the imagination like a ticket to the Wonka Factory. Probably won’t happen, but it sure didn’t take long to dig up those previous drunken arrests, huh?

Yeah, I don’t think we’re destined to lack for top-drawer content as the MAGA ragewad decomposes into its component turds. Their civil war is playing out more or less exactly as I’d have staged it with my action figures on the floor of my childhood closet.

NOW LAURA LOOMER AND CANDACE OWENS ARE FIGHTING RARRRRRRRRR! You smash the Nancy Mace doll and the Cory Mills doll together, making ‘splodey noises. Which is actually significantly more dignified than their real-life spat.

I dig that Dersho picked this of all moments to climb aboard the Titanic. The iceberg was an hour ago, bro; Leo’s halfway down the Mariana Trench by now.

Hey, if you contributed to the latest comic book Kickstarter and you have yet to respond to the shipping survey, I cannot mail you your comics! And I want you to have your comics! I made ‘em for you!

If you missed the last Kickstarter, well, we’re about to launch our scintillating second issue, so be on the lookout for news on that front.

In the meantime, feel free to buy your favorite masked blogger a beer (via Venmo, PayPal, or Cash App!), if you’re able. Or your second-favorite masked blogger anyway. C’mon, surely I crack the top five…

Bah. Well, stay safe out there all the same.