I think it’s cute that I’m even bothering to write tonight, when I know all y’all are watching Hamilton. And that’s fine, you absolutely deserve the break. I assume the folks that’re actually reading this are the sadomasochistic news junkies that couldn’t look away if they wanted to, to whom I say, “grab a beer and your favorite cat o’ nine tails; let’s self-flagellate our way through another week’s news!” 

Demonstrating the keen political instincts of a Dukes of Hazzard-branded mudflap, the Bonespur Buttplug threatened to veto a massive military spending bill over a provision that would sandblast the dead loser names of dead loser generals off our military bases, betting he can turn his visibly-rotting electoral prospects around by motivating some fanciful silent majority that doesn’t want active duty troops to get a pay raise but cares passionately about the honor of incompetent, long-deceased traitors. I mean, no, it doesn’t make any sense, but this is the clod who told us to mainline Clorox and install UV bulbs up our asses, sooooooooo…

He truly seems incapable of processing the country’s sharp turn against his trademark brand of Supbar White Jagoff Supremacy in recent weeks, and I salute both the turn and his obliviousness to it. Like, even the long-intransigent Washington NFL team is finally, FINALLY looking towards a bold, slurless future, and here’s Government Cheese Goebbels, unapologetically calling the very phrase Black Lives Matter a “symbol of hate.” It’s electoral suicide, which I appreciate and enjoy, but fuck, it’s terrifying that the guy whose whole message is Yes I Fucked Up Literally Everything But I Will Preserve Institutional Racism While the Nation Burns to Ash even has a shot at re-election.

Ghislaine Maxwell, Jeffrey Epstein’s BSTMFF* has been arrested, and has yet, at posting time, to die a mysterious death in custody. Maxwell is said to be cooperating fully now that she’s busted, so some of the most powerful underpants on Earth are filling up with the terror shits right now, and I think that and a six-pack of a passably-fancy IPA might just be enough to get me through another weekend.

President Poosquirt is certainly leaving his maniacal mark on the Republican Party, and it looks like no amount of scrubbing will be able to remove the rapidly spreading stain of the batshit-gargling QAnon movement, as more and more Qnatics win their primaries and find themselves in line for seriously important, powerful jobs. The latest slobbering psychopath to leap onto the national stage is Lauren Boebert, who defeated Shart-endorsed 5-term Republicrook incumbent Scott Tipton, and enters the general election favored to win in this solidly red district. Looking forward to the formation of the House Pizzagate Caucus and all the spittle-drenched Defund Hillary’s Sex Slave Camp on Mars legislation they’ll propose over the coming years.

Even though it’s killed us by the tens of thousands, it seems Americans just can’t get enough of that kooky koronavirus kraze; we’re spreading the little bastard wherever it feels like going, and smashing new case records pretty much daily. And after all this time, and all this senseless death, the entirety of Doctor Dotard’s strategy remains Don’t Worry It’ll Go Away on Its Own, and anyway, in future presidential debates, the moderators should ask every candidate to describe a problem they’ve solved using tools other than “my father’s money,” don’tcha think?

Well, now that we have more or less officially lost control of the outbreak again, despite the helpful Containing Coronavirus for Dummies manual that was RIGHT THERE FOR ANYBODY TO READ, Republicans are starting to realize that maybe opening their silly Masks are for Cucks front in the culture war was a mistake, and now they’re huffing and puffing that Golly Somebody Politicized Mask Wearing, Who Would Do Such a Thing, This Partisan Bickering Must Stop and fuck it, let’s just roll our eyes and let ‘em have this one, so long as they’re finally sending responsible signals on mask-wearing, because it really would be nice to get this shit under control at some point in my lifetime.

Shit, even Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot took an uncharacteristic step towards positively influencing public health, talking up masks a teeny-weeny bit after weeks of juvenile posturing, saying he looks “like the Lone Ranger” when he wears one, and whatever, old man, the Lone Ranger didn’t look like a drunken prairie dog crawled onto his head, vomited, and passed out, but it’s kind of you to at least momentarily stop pouring gasoline on this fire we’ve all been fight SINCE FUCKING MARCH, you colossal nitwit.

The suddenly-pro-mask GOP was probably hoping some prominent figure could serve as a cautionary tale about the dangers of taunting a contagious disease, and out of nowhere, almost-forgotten pizza ghoul Herman Cain was all, “I volunteer as tribute!” Yes, hot off his appearance in a smug, maskless photo tweeted from Fat Q*Bert’s humiliatingly under-attended Tulsa rally, Herman announced a surprise guest appearance at an Atlanta hospital, because wonder of wonders, he somehow caught COVID-19 at That One Place Everyone Agreed People Were Going to Catch COVID-19.

Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick has long been one of the high priests of the Republican death cult, and these days he’s positively horny to get to the Kool-Aid-chugging portion of the Apocalyptic Pandemic Show. Dan-O announced he’s done listening to that stupid cuck Dr. Fauci and his stupid cuck science, he’s gonna do things Dan Patrick’s way from now on, so I hope y’all like untimely death.

Lt. Dan is pulling a neat little Orwellian trick here; his constituents are up to their necks in highly contagious shit right now precisely because he (and his cud-brained boss, Greg Abbott) DIDN’T listen to Fauci, but he shamelessly plays a round of Pin the Blame on Cassandra anyway, safe in the knowledge that his thoroughly indoctrinated base won’t read the fine print, and will indeed stop listening altogether once they’ve identified the target of the day’s Two Minutes Hate.

Like so many Trumpists, up to the Emperor of Hemorrhoids himself, Patrick is a very, very stupid man who believes he has all the answers. These craven, empty-headed bullies, DeSantis, Ducey, Abbott. They’ve done this, they’ve made these appalling, unforgivable decisions, knowing in advance they’d cost lives. How they haven’t been dragged from their mansions and imprisoned in campground outhouses confuses the living fuck out of me.

The Roberts Court had been so well-behaved this summer. They brought a really nice potato salad to your cookout, and they were surprisingly courteous to all your female and LGBTQ friends, and just when you were thinking “gosh, maybe I was wrong about conservatives,” Neil Gorsuch left an almost-impossibly-long floater right in the middle of your pool, then ran away making obscene gestures and snickering “We’re STILL the willing tool of institutional white supremacy, muthafuckaaaaaas!” because while Johnny Robs may periodically save the Republican Party from its least popular policy impulses, he’s not gonna get all radical and suddenly start believing that every American has the right to vote or anything.

Meanwhile Smilin’ Joe Biden just keeps on out-raising the Marmalade Shartcannon, both in terms of campaign contributions and the ability to handle water glasses one-handed ayyyyyyyyy tip your wait staff.

…and now I see the Shart House is rolling out yet another doomed coronavirus messaging strategy, waving the white flag and admitting A Bunch of You Have to Die Learn to Love It Plebs, even as every other first world nation locks Americans outside to press our noses enviously against the windows of their increasingly reopened societies, for we are a shithole ruled by a shithead, and thus a threat to the world’s health.

And now Strawberry Shartcake thinks he can score points by challenging Biden to a basic cognitive test competition? Hey, if you’re sure this is the battlefield you want, please proceed, Sun-Tzu.

As you can see, things got kind of light this week as the holiday approached. Fuck, we deserve it. I know I certainly do. So go ahead. Watch Hamilton. Hell, you’re locked in your house, watch all kinds of patriotic shit. Watch jingoistic black and white films with old, iconic movie stars killing Nazis; it’ll put you in the mood for Election Day, which is suddenly just four short months away…

*Best Sex-Trafficking Monster Friend Forever