How’s your quarantine goin’, Shower Captives? Oh, I’m fine. I’m certainly not thinking about installing a chandelier, just to have something to swing from. Nope. All totally normal thoughts rattling around in the cranium ‘neath the mask. Let’s round up the news before my brain runs away screaming, shall we?

Over the weekend the President Who Stole From Charity rang up Disgraced Baseball Cheat Alex Rodriguez for advice on the ongoing coronavirus crisis, which threatens to keep him off the golf course indefinitely, and oh yeah, I think some of the serfs might die, too. Did he call any of the members of the pandemic response team that he fired? No, that would be silly, when there are so many unscrupulous athletes to consult! A-Rod is reported to have advised the most powerful person on Earth, “well, whenever I was in a jam I just took a fuckton of steroids,” so if this chloroquine thing doesn’t work out, he’ll be pimping HGH from the Shart House pulpit within a week, and at least MAGA nation can leave behind some totally jacked corpses.

Well, when he’s not busy licking celebrities’ buttholes, the Velveeta Vulgarian spends his hours desperately searching for any sliver of good news he can take credit for. Hence, he’s trying to get his own signature printed on the coming stimulus checks that will be sent to millions of American households, because why shouldn’t taxpayers fund his private political campaign while he’s bungling us all into early graves? Tell you what, dirtbag, let’s plant that childlike scrawl where it’s earned and deserved: death certificates. Maybe even tombstones, huh? “Laid down his life to get me to 48% in Rasmussen one last time. Loser.”

Also, the Hairplug That Ate Decency briefly toyed with the notion of a total quarantine for a tri-state area encompassing New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, a real outside-the-box solution, assuming “the box” contains science, common sense, and the U.S. Constitution. Naturally, this would make shit exponentially worse within those states, and wouldn’t do much to slow the spread of the virus, which is everywhere already, including on those beaches Ron DeSantis won’t close, so why don’t we set the authoritarian power grab down and get back in box, campers? There are still quite a few unexplored good ideas back inside the box with the scientists and the doctors and the general non-idiots.

So, the Department of the Interior disestablished the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe’s reservation in Massachusetts, because things aren’t shitty enough right now, I guess. You have to wonder what other acts of white nationalist fuckery Stephen Miller and his motley crew of the hate-fueled and subpar are up to, while everyone else focuses on just surviving this fucking year.

Look, no one has been harder on President Gas Station Urinal Cake than me. Hell, I frequently refer to him as “President Gas Station Urinal Cake,” which certainly isn’t his real name*. But I’ve always vowed to give the devil his due, and even as the world burned around him, Shart Garfunkel kept a cool-if-hideously-spraytanned head, and demonstrated leadership so goshdarned presidential the statue at the Lincoln Memorial stood up to offer his chair, in declaring that the United States would not be paying for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s security, which of course we were never asked to do. A lesser man might have spent his time doing stupid cuck shit like “mobilizing the military to construct field hospitals” or “nationalizing the medical supply chain to battle a catastrophic equipment shortage,” but it takes a Real ‘Murican to ignore that petty stuff and address imaginary celebrity gossip problems instead. In related news, we’re all going to die.

Ok. So let’s not fuck around here. Donald Trump is getting people killed every day now. His laziness, ignorance, selfishness, and pride have set us down a path leading to the largest American death toll since WWII, and it seems like all we can do now is walk along it in horror and disbelief. And of course, many of those dying are the medical professionals serving on the front lines, often due to the shortage of personal protective equipment, an inevitable nationwide disaster that Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot refused to address weeks ago, when he could have, and should have, choosing instead to prioritize his short-term approval ratings over the lives of us 329 million suckers.

So when this tar-souled charlatan, this piss-stained shitmaggot, tries to shift responsibility for his own monstrous, murderous, failures by accusing the very health care workers whose lives he’s endangering of…motherFUCKER this makes me mad…of smuggling masks “out the back door,” it just makes you want to REDACTED SO THE SECRET SERVICE DOESN’T VISIT ME, doesn’t it? Somebody really oughta REDACTED SO THE SECRET SERVICE DOESN’T VISIT ME, or maybe even WOO BOY I’D REALLY GET IN TROUBLE IF ANYBODY SAW THIS ONE, that’s just what I think, sorry.

And through it all, the demented old creep is out there, bragging about his ratings. We’ve gone from “15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero” to “Hey, if I get out of this with less than 200,000 dead, I’m better than George Washington, like, George Washington, only with lasers for hands,” and he’s still mostly just excited that he gets to be on the magical talking teevee box.

I regret to inform you the lügenpresse is up to their old tricks. At one of Sharty McFly’s daily campaign rallies excuse me, “coronavirus briefings,” PBS NewsHour’s Yamiche Alcindor viciously punctured the alternate reality he was so desperately spinning, utilizing that sneakiest and most dastardly of tactics: directly quoting the dumb shit he says, which he deems “threatening.” Y’know, since the doddering old crotchrash is getting thousands of us killed and all, I’m gonna go ahead and take some pleasure in his barely-contained rage whenever a black woman challenges him…it ain’t the 25th amendment, but it’s what we’ve got.

Many a lib was owned when Jerry Falwell, Jr reopened parts of Liberty University, in defiance of experts and their namby-pamby calls for “social distancing.” The coronavirus, shockingly unmoved by Falwell’s skillful trolling, wasted little time in infecting a dozen or so of his students. Hope those libtard doctors aren’t so owned that they can’t treat the victims of Jerry’s reckless arrogance.

In times of turmoil, we often find our way back to the famous Fred Rogers quote, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” What many people don’t know is, Mr. Rogers had an evil twin, Ferd, who offered the equally astute, “Look for the bastards. You will always find people who are making shit worse.” Ferd Rogers was talking about folks like Real Estate Mogul/Walking Ass Pimple Joel Freedman, who figured a desperate shortage of hospital beds in Philadelphia was a golden opportunity to extort the city into paying him an exorbitant fee to use the shuttered hospital he owns. If Joel wakes up tomorrow buried underneath 60 tons of rhinoceros diarrhea, then I guess that lamp I found this morning was magic after all.

There’s been a lot of talk about the work of libertarian nutjob (forgive the redundancy) Richard Epstein, and how it influenced Fat Q*Bert’s thinking as he made every imaginable mistake in handling the coronavirus outbreak, as though he owed the coronavirus money (and like, Deutsche Bank amounts of money). Now, Epstein has no experience, in medicine, or science, or breadmaking, or in seemingly anything except being a bloviating jagoff, but still he reached deep inside his own ass to pull out a figure claiming only 500 Americans would die, and decided that the damage to the economy, if we took action to fight COVID-19, would be worse because the real virus is liberalism. Utter horseshit, but it’s what Donnie Dotard wanted to hear, and suddenly you get tweets about the cure being worse than the problem, and a growing mountain of corpses. Congratulations, Richard, winning the Worst Epstein crown was certainly going to be a challenge, but you just might pull it off.

Democracy officially died in Hungary this week, as Viktor Orban used the coronavirus as the convenient excuse to bludgeon those last pesky vestiges of freedom to death. In ordinary times, the U.S. government would be issuing condemnatory statements, and getting to work on withdrawing aid and imposing sanctions over shit like this, but today, the Manchurian Manchild is most likely asking Orban for pointers.

Y’know, the Candycorn Skidmark may be a blithering idiot, overmatched by everything from the basic principles of international trade to the mechanics of the wily umbrella, but let it never be said that he has failed to internalize the prime commandment of modern conservative politics: “The easier it is for folks to vote, the worse we do.” Yeah, the head of our nation’s increasingly-fascist conservative party openly crapping all over the idea of letting everyone vote was certainly not my favorite thing that happened in March, but March was pretty shitty…I think my favorite thing might’ve been that one dream where I was teaching Robert Mitchum and Batman how to play backgammon**.

What’s this shit now? What fresh hell awaits in the latest installment of the Donnie Two-Scoops Daily Propaganda Spew? The MyPillow guy? Fuck. Who the fuck let this Trump-hugging, faux Christian goober up there to shill his wares at what is allegedly a briefing on this fucking disease that’s upended all our lives? I know we need ventilators, but can we maybe spare one shuttered factory to finish work on that catapult to launch these useless idiots into the sun?

And now the Screw All Life on Earth Administration is undoing Obama-era automobile fuel efficiency standards, because why should the lucky takers who survive this fuckup-enabled plague get to enjoy a habitable world after Donald Trump is dead and gone? It’s amazing how diligently he works to hurt people, isn’t it? I predict that, ten minutes before Joe Biden takes the oath of office, Littlefinger will, in one final act of spite, lunge for the nuclear football and just start mashing buttons with his tiny, inadequate, little fingers.

I see Mitch McConnell is trying to blame the Marmalade Shartcannon’s ruinous blundering in the face of the pandemic on the distraction of the impeachment trial. While of course it’s tragic that the consequences of the Grifter Grand Wizard’s many crimes cut into his ability to prepare for this emergency, I’m just thankful that he still had the free time to golf, hold hate rallies, and rage-tweet along with Fux Nooz for hours every day, I’d hate to think the responsibilities of his job were stressing him out while he was letting a bunch of people die needlessly.

And now, today, finally, even the Shart House acknowledged that, at the low end, 100,000-240,000 Americans will die of COVID-19. Fuck. It didn’t have to be this way. He could have acted. He could have taken this shit seriously. He could have done his fucking JOB. But no, he dithered, and he dawdled, and he lied his ass off, and now tens of thousands of us have to pay the price for his mistakes. We could’ve been South Korea, and now we’re praying that we’re “only” Italy. Don’t forget, there are still plenty of red state governors refusing to implement the social distancing guidelines needed to keep these numbers low.

Sooooo…yeah. Sorry it ain’t more fun tonight, folks. I, too, long for the salad days of Scott Pruitt and his lotion antics, but here we are. Stay safe out there. Me, I’ve got some screaming and drinking to catch up on.

*I mean, it might be. I haven’t checked.

**Awake, I do not know how to play backgammon.