Hey, I know everything is fucking awful these days and it’s hard to stay sane, let alone happy, but congratulations on a surviving another week in this apocalyptic hellscape where the President of the United States has partnered with a deadly virus to KILL YOU. Those are some pretty impressive enemies, and they haven’t taken you out yet, so maybe you’re tougher than you imagine. Certainly tough enough to make it through a lil’ news roundup, right?

Well, the political media picked through John Bolton’s shitty little book for the newsworthy bits, like going through your dog’s poop after she swallowed a roll of dimes, and I suppose we should thank them for undertaking such an unsavory task, sparing us both time and the moral cost of contributing to the genocidal mustache wax fund.

All the tropes of the Ex-Shart Administration Official Tell-All Memoir are here; the Dotard’s sub-third-grade knowledge level (admit it, you would’ve been much more surprised to learn that he actually knew Finland was an independent nation), his open criminality, the way foreign autocrats effortlessly manipulate him. When this is all over, one of the loyalists (probably Kellyanne Conway) is gonna try to publish their own desperate attempt to rewrite the history of this blazing clusterfuck as some sort of white nationalist Camelot, and we will point at them and laugh.

Anyway, Murderstache says Tangerine Idi Amin begged Chinese President Xi Jinping to bail out his floundering re-election campaign by buying up American agricultural goods, cuz lord knows the doddering old fuckup can’t run on his record. He also gave Xi the official presidential stamp of approval to run as many concentration camps as his little shitbag heart desired, a rare instance of ideological consistency between President Crotchvoid’s foreign and domestic policies. Oh, and he also thought it would be totally sweet to invade Venezuela, which would probably be easier than buying Greenland, right?

There, that’s all you need to know. Here’s what I think: nobody should buy Greenland, and nobody should buy John Bolton’s fucking book. My disposable income is for folks who testify under oath, you skeevy creep. Where’s Fiona Hill’s book? I’d buy the shit out of that.

Because we live in the Dumbest and Shittiest of All Possible Worlds, somehow, mask-wearing, aka that Ridiculously Simple, Ultra-Effective Method for Halting the Spread of the Virus That Has Killed 121,000 Americans and Shows Not One Fucking Sign of Slowing Down has become…partisan. There is one political party that is for doing the sensible thing for public health, and one that is all FUCK YOU YOU’LL HAVE TO PRY A MASK ONTO MY COLD DEAD FACE.

Nebraska Governor Pete Ricketts is literally blackmailing his state’s municipalities into making people less safe, threatening to withhold coronavirus relief funding from any local governments that mandate masks inside government buildings. Yep, that’s an American state punishing their own citizens for fighting a pandemic, for protecting their own goddamn health, that’s how utterly deranged the Republican Party has become. One of the things I like best about Democrats is the way we’re not a death cult.

Hell, Shart Garfunkel himself now interprets this basic act of self-preservation and communal decency as an expression of opposition to himself, and I feel like a better position for the American President to take would be AGAINST the disease and WITH the people he was elected to serve, but we live in challenging times.

See, to me, this presents some real opportunities. What else can we make partisan? Can we push the mask thing so far that it encompasses all healthy behaviors, and even health care itself? “Yeah, dude, medical treatment is for CUCKS. Real men grind it out, and voluntarily lower their own life expectancy through sheer force of manly will.” Maybe in the near future Dems will dominate voters over 65, because we’ll be the only ones who last that long.

More shockingly good news from the Supreme Court this week, as Chief Justice John Roberts joined the liberals in upholding DACA, immediately setting off fire alarms in the White House as Stephen Miller’s latest layer of spray-on hair spontaneously ignited. Wow, I guess John-John is a secret libtard now and will never again make infuriating rulings about how corporations are people, but women seeking to control their own reproductive health aren’t, right? I’m just saying, a couple of y’all might want to cancel your appointments at the tattoo parlor, because I suspect you’ll wind up regretting carving “ME + CJJR 4-EVER” onto your chest.

Welp, I suppose we have to talk about Nestor. Ugh. Good thing I’m surrounded by sanitizing products these days. It appears as though Pudding-Brained Florida Congresscreep Matt Gaetz has a…a ward, I guess? Gaetz humiliated himself on the House floor in an argument with Rep. Cedric Richmond, and suddenly pulled 19-year-old Nestor out of his ass, claiming the kid is his son, though he hasn’t “formally” adopted him, and has never publicly claimed to have children. Casual adoption isn’t a thing, Matty, and human beings aren’t props for your performative faux outrage, though congrats on scoring a spot on Tucker Carlson’s White Power Hour. Ew to this story. Moving on.

Credit where credit’s due, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been giving a bunch of interviews over the last few days, raising awareness for a cause that’s near and dear to my heart, the Holy Fuckballs Donald Trump’s Brain is Broken, Seriously, It Does Not Fucking Work At All Foundation. It’s important work.

Talking to the Wall Street Journal, he demanded credit for making Juneteenth “famous,” which he accomplished, you’ll remember, by SCHEDULING A KLAN RALLY AT THE SITE OF A RACE MASSACRE on the same date. Yeah, and Julius Caesar was filming a promotional video for the Library of Alexandria.

In the same interview, Weehands McNodick decided to once again take aim at the beloved field leader of our massive antifa terrorist army, Martin Gugino, the 75-year-old peace activist violently assaulted by the Buffalo PD. Gugino is recovering in a secret location because he’s receiving death threats thanks to the Stochastic-Terrorist-in-Chief, and let me just say, the wait between now and Election Day is like every childhood Xmas Eve rolled up into one and sprinkled liberally with cocaine. I want to open my present NOW, dammit, the polls tell me there’s an excellent chance Santa is bringing us a revitalized American democracy, not that I’ll believe it until Grandpa Joe assembles the thing and puts the batteries in.

In a different interview, this time with Politico, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot whines that allowing voting by mail would cost him the election, and hey, even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Yes, little man, if the American people are allowed a free and fair election this November, you are deeply, majestically, historically fucked. Learn to love it. Or don’t, I don’t give a shit.

He goes on to brag about all the GOP Senators whose careers he ended, relishing his role in getting Dean Heller and Jeff Flake replaced…with Democrats. Hey, if retiring Republicans is what gets you off, my dude, I think you’re about four and a half months away from having a whole lot more to celebrate.

Now, if you’re like me, and you find embarrassment porn like Meet the Parents or Election difficult to watch, the interview between Son of Shart and his scumfuck daddy may be a bridge too far. Watching those two decency-deficient manchildren dance around their issues (Junior’s Ivanka line will make you cringe so hard you’ll throw out your back) is like sitting through cut scenes from a Tennessee Williams script as directed by Eli Roth. Anyway, I bet this “Bin Laden for Biden” thing will totally un-iceberg the Titanic that is your 2020 campaign, kids.

Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman’s promotion is in jeopardy, because he courageously stood up for his country and the rule of law, and when the Commander-in-Chief is a vindictive traitor, such patriotism is frowned upon.

Incidentally, the Navy decided that yeah, it’s super duper sure it wants to fire Captain Brett Crozier for (checks notes) trying to rescue his crew from an onboard coronavirus outbreak, so I feel like maybe there are some HR people at the Pentagon that Smilin’ Joe might wanna look into replacing. That post-inauguration to-do list is getting to be quite a lengthy scroll, isn’t it?

SPEAKING OF SCROLLING, the Velveeta Vulgarian seems to be suffering from senioritis (in addition to the narcissism and dementia) as his lame duck days approach, openly fiddling with his phone during a roundtable with small business owners, because he can no longer be bothered to even pretend to care about us peasants, not even for a few passing minutes, not even when the cameras are on. The next President should like people, not get all controversial.

But the bastard still wants another term, because with four more years of sweet, sweet legal immunity, he can run out the clock on some of those pesky statutes of limitations. He wants it so bad he’s spending millions on ads. Ads with Nazi concentration camp imagery. Jesus FUCK, dude, that shit was so egregious, even FACEBOOK drew the line and took your NAZI SYMBOL ADS down, and Mark Zuckerberg would allow snuff films if he thought they’d get people to click on MeUndies links. Fucking NAZI SYMBOL ADS. 137 days. Fuck.

Anyway, congratulations go out to whatever strains of COVID-19 are circulating in Tulsa, Oklahoma these days, on winning a free ticket to this weekend’s All the Raging Dumbasses You Can Eat buffet, aka the Grand Wizard Grifter’s latest rally. I see the demented old fuck marked the Juneteenth holiday by getting a head start on inciting violence at his little hatefest, threatening protesters in a tweet like a Big Tuff Boy Who Pulls Up His Own Diapers n’ Everything. Come for the imaginary antifa threat, stay* for the life-threatening disease. Has anybody done the math on how many of these dolts need to get infected to turn Oklahoma into a swing state?

Fuuuuuck. Like the engines of the Starship Enterprise, I cannae take anymore. By the time you get to this sentence, I will have drunk myself into a stupor, because I deserve that. As always, stay safe out there, Resisters. See y’all soon.

*in the ICU