Ah, there’s nothing like a fresh new year, is there? Change is in the air, hope is ascendant, the possibilities seem limitless…of course we all knew President Crotchrot would find a way to fuck everything up before too long, but could he truly not last three fucking days? Fucking of course not, and I was naive to even ask.

Following U.S. airstrikes in Iraq, protesters stormed the American embassy in Baghdad, because nobody in the entire Malignant Dipshit Administration could be bothered to consider, “Hey, before we bomb the shit out of these people, maybe we should beef up security at our diplomatic outposts,” because learning from past mistakes is for CUCKS. Somehow a week that started with the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits lurching around, desperately screaming NO BENGHAZI YOU’RE THE BENGHAZI would quickly become exponentially even more fucked, on account of how we live in Hell and all.

Well, despite three years of playing truth or dare with Kim Jong-un and always choosing dare and dutifully performing every humiliating task* that third rate, third world, dictator asked of him, Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops sat helplessly by as North Korea announced they would resume testing nuclear weapons and long-range missiles, plus they’ll make sure to glue one of those hilariously presumptuous challenge coins to every single warhead. So yeah, the Shart of the Deal gave Kim the global legitimacy his family has long craved, suspended military exercises in the region, and alienated our allies there, including South Korea, and what he has to show for it is slightly less valuable than your average Happy Meal prize.

With all this international news madness assaulting your senses, you’re probably worried that the State Department, already hollowed out by the fuckery of Rex Tillerson and Mike Pompeo, simply lacks the resources to put out all the fires. Well worry not, Deborah of the House Downer, Foggy Bottom remains laser-focused on the shit that really matters like…conducting a full fucking investigation into mega-important matters like Encyclopedia Dumbass and the Case of the Chelsea Clinton Tweet. See, somebody in the E.U. ambassador’s office clicked “like” on something Chelsea posted on the information superhighway, and Team Treasonweasel turned the fuckin’ place upside down trying to find the “culprit.” Yes, even as our oldest alliances crumbled to dust. What, you imagine your government prioritizes national security over Weehands McNodick’s gossamer ego? Oh, my sweet summer child.

Psychotic War Criminal/Trumpal Campaign Surrogate Eddie Gallagher seems to have launched his very own line of murderous jagoffwear, for the fashion-conscious lunatic who wants to send a bold statement, like, “never leave me alone in a room with a child,” or “cross the street the very moment you see me.” Anyhow, modern conservatism is mostly about being publicly, unapologetically, shitty, isn’t it? “I basically just wanna discriminate against my fellow American citizens, buy clothes from a serial killer, and take health care away from as many people as I possibly can…MAGA!”

Meanwhile, Delusional Thug Sidekick Corey Lewandowski has declined the opportunity to let Senator Jeanne Shaheen electorally tap dance all over his failed, battered, scrotum for our viewing pleasure, and I, for one, am more than mildly disappointed. After all, the Dirtbag Concession Speech is practically pornography to me these days, and remains an essential part of any Resister’s balanced emotional diet.

It’s shockingly difficult to find amusing new ways to say, “newly-released documents add to the already mountainous pile of evidence that Shart Garfunkel thinks Ukraine is Russian for The Place Wherein One Commits Crimes,” because documents of that sort turn up with the regularity of America Online CD-ROMs circa 1994. In this particular case, we have an OMB official telling the Pentagon that Dorito Mussolini personally ordered the aid freeze, an even smokinger gun than any of the previous extremely smoking guns we’ve already seen. Man, there’s so much evidence here you’d have to start a fuckin’ war to change the subject. (Note the author’s use of foreshadowing in this paragraph. What a clever fellow**.)

A group of Mostly-Republican-But-Also-Containing-Dan-Lipinski-Who-We-Should-Fire-in-the-Primary Congresscreeps sent a letter to Santa Kavanaugh asking him to kindly take advantage of his position in the new, post-Kennedy, anti-choice, SCOTUS majority to purty please overturn Roe v. Wade so we can do away with all that silly female bodily autonomy and get back to the good ol’ days when women were property and did what the menfolk said. If you listen closely, you can almost hear Susan Collins’ brow furrowing ineffectually.

Well, the Democratic presidential field continues to narrow. Julián Castro exited the primary, as did Marianne Williamson…’s staff, though the candidate herself has vowed to use the last lingering remnants of the political spotlight to spread nutty woo-woo shit until the last campaign reporter gets reassigned. I don’t expect her to formally concede until 2027.

Anyway, pretty light news week, likely owing to the holiday season. Oh, the United States did profoundly destabilize the Middle East, carrying out an act of war against Iran by assassinating General Qassem Soleimani in a drone strike at an airport in Baghdad, Iraq. In keeping with the unwritten rules of the day, I’ll issue the obligatory preface that ol’ Qassem was a murdering shitbag who was decidedly not invited to Games of Thrones night at my place, but there also these things called “consequences,” and though the Marmalade Shartcannon has avoided them his whole life thanks to Daddy’s money, not everyone is so lucky, and Iran has already vowed revenge, so consequences are on their way because FUCKING OF COURSE THEY ARE YOU NITWITS.

Oh, and the strike also killed Iraqi militia leader Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, so we pissed off two regional powers for the price of one! It’d be a bargain, were the currency not, y’know…blood.

Yes, Hairplug Himmler, who couldn’t find Iran on a map***, finally fired the last arrow in his quiver, playing some imaginary You Can’t Impeach a War Hero President card that exists in only in his misaligned mind. He has abandoned his Nobel Peace Prize dreams in the wake of Kim Jong-un’s atomic middle finger, and now fantasizes about the nation uniting behind him in patriotic bloodthirst as he clumsily wields the Saber of War with his tiny, inadequate, little fingers. Never mind the endless quagmires perpetrated by predecessors who hadn’t decimated the leadership of the State and Defense departments through malice, mismanagement, and incompetence, I’m sure the band of geniuses who fucked up the White House Easter Egg Roll can totally pull this one off.

Ari Fleischer and the Neocon Clown Car certainly wasted little time getting the band back together to meet the sudden demand for nostalgic bullshit warmongering, playing all the classic hits, like “We Will Be Greeted as Liberators,” and “I Can’t Believe Anybody Trusts One Word That Comes Out of my Lying Mouth, But Thanks for Having Me on TV Anyway, You Gullible Chumps.” Mike Pence made a surprise guest cameo with a cover of George W. Bush’s famous, “Let’s Say There Were Ties to 9-11, Because You Rubes Will Believe Anything.”

And before anybody could say “Mission Accomplished,” the Pentagon announced the first wave of new Middle East troop deployments, on account of the whole starting-a-fire-in-a-match-factory thing. Remember, the rationale for abandoning our loyal Kurdish allies to slaughter a few short weeks ago was “bringing the troops home,” but I guess that was just so they could get a little rest, see Star Wars, and get back to the important work of dying for the sake of President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster’s re-election campaign.

Chief Thuglomat Pompeo says “de-escalation is the goal,” and that might seem strange, since “extreme, world-shaking, escalation” was the tactic, but when you remember that we are governed by dangerous idiots who are bad at everything, literally everything, it makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it? It’s almost adorable, watching these assclowns insist they’d somehow thwarted an imminent attack…betcha wish you hadn’t burned through all your credibility lying about crowd size and Fat Q*bert’s height and weight now, don’tcha? No trust, no allies…in fact the default assumption is that here, as in all things, you’re lying your treasonous little asses off.

And speaking of escalation, there was another airstrike in Iraq while I was writing up tonight’s blog, because of course there was.

Anyway, I bet it’s crazy fun, being in the military, or the diplomatic corps, in the Middle East right now, wondering if you’re the lucky schmuck who hit the pay-with-my-life-for-Conman-Don’s-reckless-ego-trip sweepstakes. Jokes aside, dear reader, I sincerely hope it isn’t you, or anyone you care about. Fuck, I hope it doesn’t happen to anyone at all, but that seems like a fool’s hope tonight.

And now that there’s a potential war on the table, somehow shit is going to get even crazier, and the mere thought of that just make me fuckin’ TWITCH, y’know? I need a drink. Fortunately, I have a drink.

*Pee tape schmee tape

**Handsome, too.

***…of Iran.****

****Yeah, I used that gag before. Die mad about it. In fact, get conscripted into the Iran War and die in Iran about it.

Oh, by the way, we’re just a few short weeks away from launching a Kickstarter for my VERY FIRST COMIC BOOK!  Hey, you wanna know the title? Ok, I’ll tell ya: