Yesterday was another one of those days where the stupid was so ungodly thick, you could cut it with a knife. Here a stupid, there a stupid, everywhere a stupid stupid — and you know what that means: it’s time once again to roll out the good old Big Wheel of Moron™, give it a vigorous spin, and see where it lands. Ready? Here we go.

Oh look, here’s a perfectly normal thing that happens every day. It’s just United States President Rottinghands McCankles, being bundled into Helicopter Force One (or whatever the fuck it’s called), along with Diaper Nurse Natalie Harp and Found Object Katie Zacharia.

Holy shit, look at the intensity with which these two women are focusing their rictus grins on the object of their affection.

Who thought this was a wise idea? You can’t do this. You can’t take two fixated weirdos who both believe they have the god-ordained right to be the Fourth Mrs. Donny™ and put them in close quarters. It’s like shoving matter and antimatter together. Nothing good is going to happen. Bunnies are going to get boiled. Lots and lots of bunnies.

If we could somehow take the barely-suppressed, seething resentment that these two rivals are developing for each other, and somehow hook it to a generator, it could be America’s greatest source of renewable energy.

We’d better get out of here before we become collateral damage. Let’s give that Big Wheel of Moron™ another spin.


Oh my dear sweet lord, help us. It’s landed on United States Vice President Couchfuck McGee.

I love you too sir. In a totally platonic way, to be clear. I’m the vice president, not James Talarico.”

GET IT? GET IT? JAMES TALARICO IS THE GAY! (Spoiler alert: he’s not.)

I’m so tired of neanderthal assholes like JD Vance, whose homophobic sense of ‘humor’ — if we can charitably call it that — never matured beyond the eighth-grade locker room. It’s so fucking adolescent.

This is what you do when your party is utterly devoid of accomplishments, and bereft of anything positive to run on — you just make up stupid shit about your opponent. Why does Couchfuck imagine that ‘ha ha you so gay’ is still a thing you can lob at someone? Bro, this is the year of our lord 2026. Open your eyes — no one cares. So what if Talarico were the gayest gay in all of gaydom? We’ve over that shit. 

But beyond that, why is Couchfuck even being trotted out to campaign on behalf of loser candidates? He has zero charisma. He has no ability to connect with average people. He’s complete shit at small talk.

‘So how’s your sexuality? Are you still straight? HA HA THAT’S GREAT!’

Wheel of Moron™, kindly get us the fuck away from this repellent dipshit.


Sigh. It landed on Dear Leader, at yesterday’s hate rally in Texas. Let’s hear what’s on this tiresome fuckface’s liquefying mind.

Mutilate your children, they want to mutilate, cut your children. It’s unbelievable, what they do. Six states, I mean they could do whatever the want, and they do. Your son leaves as Jimmy and comes home in three days as Janet, and they don’t even ask you. Most people don’t believe it. You know, they think it’s like an exaggeration. It’s not. They can take your child out of school and do whatever the hell they want. These people are sick. Minnesota is one of those states that can do that.”

Fact check:

For fuck’s sake, Preznit Fuckwit has been vomiting out this fever-swamp hallucination for years now, and it doesn’t even stand up to ten seconds’ worth of critical thinking. Imagine that this were true. Imagine that you were the parent of darling little Jimmy, and one day he doesn’t get off the school bus. And then what? You just sit there for three days, going ‘well I guess he’s okay, wherever he is.’  Of course not.

You know, Donny thinks he’s doing his party a favor, by showing up to ostensibly ‘campaign’ for a candidate, and then shitting nonsense like this out of his corroded face-hole instead. He’s not. Just like his furniture-fornicating Vice President, he’s become kryptonite to voters. Nobody but the brain-deadest of cultists want to hear Donny prattle on about ‘the transgender.’ 

That shit might have worked in 2024, but it doesn’t any more. Don’t take my word for it. Listen to Republican Dade Phelan, a former Texas State House Speaker.

Phelan said it’s doing nothing, because no one cares about the few dozen transgender people in sports. They just want cheap gas.

Okay, that’s enough from our Moron-in-Chief. Let’s spin that Big Wheel again.


Oh fuck us all blind, it landed on Donny again. Holy shit, he’s still bragging about pointing to the picture of the camel.

“But remember, I’m the only one who took the test. You know, the aptitude test or whatever the hell they call it. I took it— when I did— every time I do a physical— I take a mental test. And I’ve aced it. WHERE’S MY DOCTOR? Is he around, I travel with more doctors than any human. If people get sick in the audience, they don’t— do— they leave him alone. You know what they call him? Collateral damage. If that person right over there, he looks like shit actually. He looks— he looks like he’s ready to have a heart attack. If he actually had a heart attack, you know what they would do? They would leave him alone.” 

The stupid shit thinks he’s been taking an ‘aptitude’ test. He’s not — it’s a brain damage test. And if you’re being asked to take one every time you have a checkup, it’s because your doctor has an excellent reason to suspect you have brain damage.

Don’t you love the way Donny boasts about acing his dementia test, and then careens wildly into the kind of incoherent anecdote that only a dementia sufferer would tell? Way to connect with your audience, you rotting dumbfuck. People can’t afford food. They can’t afford housing. They can’t afford basic goods and services. 

Above all, no one can afford healthcare — and this out-of-touch nincompoop is bragging about how he has all the doctors in the world, and you don’t. What in the actual fuck?

Sigh. Let’s give that Big Wheel one final spin. Ready?


Goddammit, it landed on Donny a third time. I’m going have to take this thing in and get it calibrated. The veeblefetzer is out of whack again. 

Oh no, wait, the Big Wheel of Moron™ actually did us a solid. This one’s worth seeing.

This is why, when they broadcast Dear Leader’s hate-rallies on TV, they’re always cropped in tightly from the front, on Donny and the worshipers who have been placed behind him — because if they showed you a wider view, you’d learn that no one is showing up to these things. The arena is nearly empty. He’s the crowd-size obsessed president, and he can’t draw a crowd. How sad is that? 

Wait, did I said it was sad? Actually, I meant to say that shit’s fucking hilarious.

I swear, I’m trying really hard not to laugh.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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And Down The Rabbit Hole I Go


What follows is a series of photos I took over the course of several weekends at Hotbods in Phoenix during April 1983 when Steve invited me up to the DJ booth. Magic moments frozen in time that tie directly into my musical selection above.

I was working in very low light conditions with the fastest color film I could get my hands on, but even so a lot of these shots required extensive tweaking to get them looking this good.

In an unguarded moment. I call this “The Look Of Love” (with apologies to the group ABC)
This one is almost art…
The Universe was trying to send us a signal with that record in the background.
He was such a flirt.
I like this one.
My favorite of all the shots of Steve I took
The ONLY picture of Steve and I together…and it would’ve been so good under better lighting.

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Toot Toot, Beep Beep In The Afternoon

Donna Summer – Bad Girls (1979)

As I opined a few years ago:

I was sorely disappointed with this album when it first came out. I couldn’t help but think, “She followed up Once Upon a Time with this?!” Even now, nearly four decades later, it fails to move me the way OUAT—or for that matter, even I Remember Yesterday or Four Seasons of Lovedoes.

And then to have it followed only by the greatest hits album, On the Radio, which seemed like nothing more than a contractually-obligated release to end her relationship with Casablanca Records…

While Donna did put out a few very catchy, danceable songs afterward, IMHO there were never again any whole albums that spoke to me the way her mid-Casablanca releases did.

Over the years my opinion of Bad Girls almost did a complete turnaround. While it’s still no Once Upon A Time it’s still a damn fine album, along with Four Seasons Of Love, I Remember Yesterday, and Once Upon a Time, bookending the epitome of her career.

SO MANY NIGHTS under mirror balls!

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Speaking Of Starter Homes…”Especially Suitable For A Large Family Of Moderate Means”

You could certainly do worse.

HOWEVER…even though I wasn’t going to do it again, I went ahead and made a few changes to present them visually instead of just trying to describe them.

I extended the dormer window to double-wise on the second floor to accommodate full height ceilings in both the bath and new walk-in closet.

Gotta say…that was an ordeal with the tools I had available, but it felt good when I was finally finished.

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But She Can Get Past The Smell Of His Full Diaper And Fellate The Tiny Mushroom, And That’s All That Matters


I know that I’m breaking no new ground when I point out that every member of the Donnyverse is a low-wattage shit-wit, blessed with absolutely zero qualifications for the jobs to which they’ve been assigned.

You’ve got a gin-soaked, failed weekend chat-show host running the military. A lady who arranged rigged wrestling matches is now in charge of education. A reality-show never-was has been tasked with making sure planes don’t fall from the sky. The coward who is too chickenshit to tell Dear Leader that his shoes don’t fit is somehow supposed to be making sure our allies do what we tell them.

And let’s not forget that a huffing-coke-off-a-toilet-seat, dead-bear-cub-kidnapping, whale-head-chainsawing maniac is now standing guard over our nation’s health.

But wait, here comes Donny’s latest hire — the Q-Anon-adjacent found object Katie Zacharia — to teach a master class in how to really, most-sincerely, truly fucking suck at your job.

“to OFFICIALLY be part of this incredible journey— together? and with that— I will take your questions— [extremely long pause] here in our NEW media seat.”

What the fuck was that? It was like watching a clip of a robot fail. Quick, someone reboot Katie!

The job of the White House Press Secretary is a simple one: it’s to read off a script, take questions, and answer them. Katie Zacharia can’t do any of that shit.

“He had a historic one-day war, and now we are—have a—booming economy, and a—a great relationship [another interminably long pause] with Venezuela.”

Oh shit, can somebody reboot Katie again?

The indispensable Aaron Rupar has put together a three-minute, forty-second supercut of the best-worst moments from yesterday’s press briefing.

I really need to caution you that if you try to watch the whole thing, you may end up stupider than when you started. You have been warned.

What a crap-show. Katie was stiff. Uncomfortable. Non-human. Unwilling or unable to make eye contact. She took only three questions from the press, and then mercifully booked it out of there after fourteen minutes. She shit all the beds.

Seriously, it was so clownfucktacularly awful that Zacharia became the Main Story of the Day. She was the only thing the media wanted to talk about.

“Some White House officials are already wondering how long she’ll keep the job. They tell CNN’s Kaitlan Collins her performance was unlikely to satisfy President Trump. One White House official called the appearance, quote, ‘unusual.’ Another called it ‘brutal.’”

The question everyone’s now asking is, ‘can she out-scaramucci Anthony Scaramucci?’

Tony Scaramucci, you’ll recall, is the weirdo who famously lasted only eleven days as one of Preznit Fuckwit’s press secretaries. The Mooch got shitcanned for saying goofy shit like, ‘I’m not Steve Bannon, I’m not trying to suck my own cock.’

Thanks for sharing, Mooch. You know, I could have gone my entire life without knowing that about Rotting Stevie Three-Shirts.


Meanwhile, you’ll be shocked to learn that Katie Zacharia may or may not be lying about her resumé. She claims to be a lawyer, but when the press pressed her for details (Ha ha! See what I did there?), Katie’s answer was a non-answer.

Reporter: “you said Zacharia is an attorney. Where did she pass the bar exam? What state?”

Zacharia: “When I moved to China.”

Yeah, no. China isn’t a state.

Rep. Ted Lieu, could you explain to the nice lady how passing the bar works?

One cannot take an American state bar exam in China. Bar exams are administered at designated testing locations in each state of the union.

Are Katie Zacharia and trump lying when they say she is an attorney?

If not, then she needs to disclose in what state she passed the bar.

Look, Katie Zacharia ticks all the Donnyverse boxes. She’s a liar, she’s evasive, she’s a fucking weirdo, she’s unqualified, and she’s absolute shit at her job.

If that’s not a deal-breaker for any of the men who do Dear Leader’s bidding, then it shouldn’t be for Katie.

Our piss-drunk Secretary of Death hasn’t lost his job, after butt-dialing classified war plans to a reporter, or depleting our nation’s supply of missiles, or destroying military readiness, or blundering us into an unwinnable war, or any of the other fucked-up shit he’s pulled.

Bobby Brainworms still has his job, after single-handedly creating a measles epidemic.

Liddle Marco Big-Shoes still has his job, even after [gestures all around].

It’s only the women who have been pushed out of their jobs during our Misogynist-in-Chief’s second reign. Pam Bondi. Tulsi Gabbard. Kristi Noem. And, most recently, Kimberly Gargoyle. 

Maybe it’s Donny who should be better at his job. Maybe he should stop hiring men just because they look like they came ‘straight out of central casting.’

Maybe he should stop hiring woman simply because they remind him of the daughter he wants to quote-unquote ‘date,’ if that’s what we’re charitably going to call it.

Come on — let Katie Zacharia keep her job. She’s so bad, she’s good. She’s entertaining as fuck — and at least when she screws up, it won’t result in planes colliding in mid air, or the proliferation of human shit geysers.


Everything totally fucking sucks right now, but at least we can watch our cognitively-collapsed president apparently forget what what doors are for.

Look at this idiot, on the tarmac in Alaska last night. He had one job — to walk in a straight line, into the wide-open door of his waiting helicopter.

Spoiler alert: he fucked that shit up, inexplicably meandering towards the rear of the copter. Wither doest thou wander, dipshit?

It’s only at the last second that he apparently snaps out of his reverie and remembers why doors exist. Holy shit. Donny’s brain has gone fuckity-bye.

But please — tell me once again how Joe Biden was too old and icky and smelly and decrepit to properly to his job. That’s such a cool story.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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I Can’t Today…

Sorry, but I just can’t deal with Donny today, as entertaining as Jeff’s take on him might be. If you’re interested in reading for yourself, just click on the headline below.

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When These Houses Were Built…

…did no one have to pee when they were downstairs?!

If I were using this plan to build new, I’d lose the nook and coal chute and push the porch out so the inner edge lines up with the exterior edge of the existing nook. I’d then reconfigure that area so the rear door is moved to align with that new wall and add a door to that new space from the new hall area that was created. The half bath could go into that new space. In fact—since there’s no laundry room—depending on how far out you push that rear wall, there could be room enough for a side-by-side washer/dryer and a half bath back there.

I also noticed there’s no refrigerator in the kitchen. There’s plenty of room in that space, so if you move the door to the dining room to the corner nearest the stairwell you could actually put in a u-shaped kitchen with refrigerator on one side and stove on the other.

I don’t see a whole lot that needs to be changed on the Second Floor.

~ADDENDUM~

I went ahead and drew the changes I’d suggested—plus a second floor revision left by a reader. I don’t think I’ll be making a habit of this; editing floor plans in Photoshop is a BITCH.

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