Only thing I asked Santa for this year was for Xmas to bring me one day closer to Joe n’ Kamala’s inauguration, and I got that, wrapped tastefully, with a bow I can reuse next year and everything, but it must be noted, my stocking was filled with the same smoldering pile of perverse horseshit I’ve been getting since 2016. I miss ChapStick and socks, frankly.

MAGA Nation spiked their Kool-Aid with extra meth when Gameshow Göring announced his latest round of pardons, because they mistakenly believe themselves to be on the same “team” as oligarchs like Paul Manafort and Roger Stone, who in turn view them simply as livestock. Anyway, I’m not sure we’re doing populism right, but I lost the manual.

You would think, after setting the world land speed judicial ass-whoopin’ record over the last few weeks, Donnie Dotard would be sick of losing, but no, he actually vetoed the dang defense bill, because he cares more about dead racist loser traitors than all us dumb serfs stuck here in the United States of Covid.

(He was also attempting to blackmail Congress into repealing Section 230, out of the erroneous belief that doing so would make it easier for him to lie on Twitter. Turns out that classic “I love the poorly educated” line was just more narcissism after all.)

Anyhow, the House overrode his tiny, inadequate veto, the Senate can’t wait to do the same, and the Marmalade Shartcannon is whining more than ever, which is amazing, because his entire presidency has been like being trapped in a closet with every single toddler in human history plus most of the Neanderthals for good measure.

I see multiple key witnesses for Team Treasonweasel’s case that Yuh HUH There Was Voter Fraud have withered before the awesome might of Extremely Basic Journalism. Sidney Powell’s much vaunted “former intelligence contractor” turned out to be just another random gibbering idiot with a pro-Trump podcast, and then Rudy Giuliani’s viral celebrity nitwit friend was revealed to be some sort of janitorial temp. Golly, and they seemed so credible.

Now that the reliability of these witnesses has been objectively obliterated, expect the GOP to finally abandon Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s assault on American democracy, allowing us all to move forward together, one nation unified in defense of our shared val-HA HA JUST KIDDING you’re locked in a country with a brainwashed mob, tens of millions strong, ready to believe anything, however ridiculous, so long as it lets them hate the left just a little bit more than when they woke up, already delirious with rage. Christ himself could rise from the grave to debunk this shit, and they’d call him part of the deep state*.

I confess I’m in awe of Hairplug Himmler’s capacity for bitterness; somehow he isn’t so busy screeching at subordinates for insufficiently overthrowing the government on his behalf that he can’t find time to stop and smell the roses, assuming “smelling the roses” roughly translates into Slovenian as “grousing that your Xmas-despising birther bride wasn’t on the cover of Nazi Loser Housewives’ Digest” or some shit. See, when you’re really passionate about resentment, you find ways to multitask.

There was a suicide bombing on American soil on Xmas day, but since the terrorist was a white dude, President Crotchrot merely muttered, “very fine work” and went about his golf.

Of course, the biggest holiday weekend story was the Lamest of All Possible Ducks breaking out his seldom-worn President costume to play Big Tuff Negotiator Man with the coronavirus relief bill, at the last minute, threatening to blow up a hard-won bipartisan compromise, and royally fucking over millions of Americans in the process.

After months of ignoring both the stimulus negotiations and the suffering of the American people, suddenly Tangerine Idi Amin started tweeting out demands for $2,000 checks from every potty break**. Nancy Pelosi, after pinching herself several times, gleefully seized the opportunity to flip Mitch McConnell over on his back and watch him flail. Yertle wouldn’t squirm alone, of course; hopefully-soon-to-be-departing cast members Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue found themselves unexpectedly unable to join in any reindeer games, as they were too busy explaining to the Georgia runoff electorate why they opposed their Excrement Emperor’s popular proposal.

…and shit was already pretty tough out there for an insider-tradin’ wingnut plutocrat down in the Peach State, with prominent Shartworld “attorney” L. Lin Wood urging Republican voters to boycott the runoff because the nargles that live in the fillings of his teeth told him about something called the “Dominion Algorithm,” which as near as I can tell is a conspiracy by voting machine companies to give old white conservative dudes erectile dysfunction.

Anyway, this was probably the most fun round of What the Living Fuck is This Assclown Thinking to date, with the fate of millions hanging in the balance. While Strawberry Shartcake dithered, god knows how many struggling Americans lost a full week’s worth of enhanced unemployment benefits, 300 bucks, but don’t worry, nobody’s budget is strained this time of year or anything.

This was around the time when everyone realized Weehands McNodick could just pocket veto the damn bill, which would of course be the act of a deranged madman more interested in harming the nation that rejected him at the ballot box than fulfilling his constitutional duties to oh I see it now. Well, fuck.

A bipartisan group of lawmakers begged the President to, y’know, give a fuck about his suffering constituents, but had little luck, as, despite recent successes on other fronts, medical science has yet to develop a cure for sociopathy.

In the end, they called in the Shart Whisperer: Lindsey Graham, who, along with a handful of collaborators, just straight up lied to the President to get him to sign the bill. They tricked the doddering old fart into believing he could force Congress to amend the thing, simply by signing it, and attaching a lil’ note that goes, “hey you guys, get rid of the stuff I don’t like,” essentially a line-item veto.

The Presidency offers no such power, of course, and amazingly, despite having held the gig longer than nearly anyone alive, Donald Trump does not know this. And of course, the bill became law the moment he sullied it with his obscene scrawl, which he almost certainly didn’t find out until…whenever they covered it on Newsmax. Children in fairy tales are not this easy to manipulate.

Imagine what Putin’s been pulling. Seriously, just fucking IMAGINE.

Like, no wonder the skeevy freaks squatting in our Pentagon are still fucking with the Biden transition team. Whether they’re frantically harvesting every available state secret in a desperate last-minute bid to buy the pee tape off Vlad Putin, or just shredding and deleting the evidence of a four-year spree of crime and treachery, I’m sure their hands are full.

Louie Gohmert and a bunch of his dumbest, fashiest friends have asked a federal court to grant Mike Pants magical new president-selecting powers, like maybe the founding fathers built a secret backdoor into the Constitution, some kind of “JUST KIDDING ABOUT ELECTIONS, ya chumps, really a defeated Vice President can pick whoever he wants” thing. Seriously, anybody. Dane Cook. Marianne Williamson. An aardvark. Whatever Mike Pence decides. (When it turns out to be some minor celebrity known only to aficionados of scat porn, I won’t say I toldja so, BUT…)

Meanwhile, Covid-19 has now killed 1 in every 1000 Americans. Well, Covid-19 in conjunction with its willing partner, that uniquely American illness known as Trumpism. Credit where it’s due.

Well, this is the very last time the damnéd year twenty-twenty will host our little rendezvous, my friends. I’m gonna google “What IPA pairs well with salting the earth?” and perform a ritual exorcism or two…you stay safe out there.

*Lock Him Up chants and everything. I guarantee it.

** Whenever Hannity cuts to commercial