Author: Mark Alexander

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The Week In Stupid From Jeff Tiedrich

monday: look who he’s asking

pour one out for bear cub carcass aficionado Bobby Brainworms Jr., he’s learning that being a jester in the Mad King’s court is hard.

“we have full support from the president. he wants this done. he wants — he promised to make American healthy again, and he’s gonna do that. he called me last night. he calls me three or four times a week and says, ‘where are you? why aren’t people healthier yet?’ so he’s keeping me under pressure.”

really? the porcine twatwaffle who believes exercise is bad for you is phoning up the whale-chainsawing crackpot who doesn’t understand how germs workand hectoring him about ‘it’s been ten minutes, where’s all the health you promised?’

why do I find this scenario totally believable? because this is what government looks like when everyone in it is a fucking clown, that’s why.

I have a suggestion. why don’t you buffoons just get some Heritage Foundation nitwit to make a chart that says “HEALTHY!” with a line going up, and announce to reporters that health is solved.

isn’t that how you get rid of all your other problems? by imagining them away? trust me, the press will go right along with it.

tuesday: instant you-know-what

sometimes it’s the headline that’s worth a thousand words, so let’s just sit back and enjoy the shit out of this one.


over to you, Nelson Muntz.

and now over to you, John Lennon.

wednesday: oh please shut the fuck up, already

let’s see how few words I can use to explain this whole Sydney Sweeney manufactroversy, because it’s so fucking stupid that it’s not worth the brainpower to do a deep dive.

American Eagle put up some ads featuring a photo of MAGAfied actress Sydney Sweeney with the headline “Sydney Sweeney has great jeans.”

get it? get it? great jeans, great genes.

bueno for you, American Eagle.

the tiresome thing that happened next is that the wingnut howler-monkey ecosystem pretended that “liberals” were outraged because the ads promoted “eugenics,” or some such fever-swamp bullshit. then the wingnuts worked themselves into a ginormous hissy-fit over the faux outrage they claimed was coming from the left, and the whole thing exploded all over Fox News and Newsmax.

it’s so fucking dumb — but all you really need to know is that no ginned-up ‘scandal’ is complete without the most-useless pantload on the airwaves weighing in.

I’m talking, of course, about Fox News found object Jesse Watters.

“you know how this ends? Sydney Sweeney is going to marry Barron Trump and it’s going to create the greatest political dynasty in American history.”

once again, this is way too much information.

we don’t need to know that this is what Jesse Watters fantasizes about. we don’t need to know that he goes home and make his Darth Vader and Princess Leia dolls kiss while going ‘oh Sydney, you’re so hot’ and ‘I want you so much, Barron.’

Jesse, please, we beg of you. go back to openly wishing that Dear Leader was your daddy. somehow, that’s far less creepy.

thursday: the continuing adventures of Dildo J. Trump Jr.

oh look, the worst fucking people in the world have found a new way to call attention to their dumb-ass shitwaddery. they’re throwing green dildos onto the court during WNBA games. no, really...

why are they doing this? who knows? do the worst fucking people in the world really need a reason to do any of the stupid misogynistic bullshit they get themselves up to?

all you need to know is that no hateful bid for attention is complete until Cokey McSniffles Jr. gets involved.

oh look, Cokey’s abusive father is throwing a green dildo from the roof of the White House down onto where a women’s basketball game is taking place. I guess it’s on the that parking-lot abomination where the Rose Garden used to be?

don’t ask me, I’m not the AI that generated it.

give it up, Junior. your father is never going to love you, no matter how many stupid-ass memes you post.

friday: I want you — to hate

is there no hallowed institution that these fuckweasels won’t drag out back to the gravel pit and shoot in the face? the answer, of course, is a resounding no.

remember good old Uncle Sam, as depicted by the artist James Montgomery Flagg? he wanted YOU.

basically, he wanted you to punch the shit out of Nazis.

no more. now, Uncle Sam literally wants you to be a Nazi.

oh great. Uncle Sam has taken off his red, white and blue top hat and replaced it with an ICE cap. presumably, he’ll be putting a mask over his face next.

here comes ICE Sam, pouring out of the back of a rent-a-truck and tackling some hapless immigrant in a Home Depot parking lot.

look what other Nazi-level shit your government has been up to lately.

“Serve your country! Defend your culture! No undergraduate degree required!”

“defend your culture.” racism doesn’t get much more racist than that.

exactly what ‘culture’ are we defending here? is it throwing green dildos at women? is that the precious culture we need to preserve from the influence of swarthy foreigners?

you know who else was really big on defending their pure-white culture from the influence of swarthy foreigners, don’t you? of course you do.

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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This One Threw Me Off

This was found in a reddit post that was asking people to describe the worst city in the US for suburban living. The top response was Las Vegas, but this didn’t look like Las Vegas. It looked like Phoenix, but the lack of easily recognizable landmarks thew me off. I thought recognized the tall grey building at the center of the photo but it’s has such a generic look it could frankly be anywhere. There was no City Hall, no stadium, no Hyatt regency…none of the usual buildings associated with downtown. I mean, I worked downtown for the last six years; I knew what it looked like. Yet this was  a close-but-no-cigar moment.

Then I zoomed in and looked closer and it all fell into place. Toward the bottom I spotted the Hotel Westward Ho, a building that exists nowhere else in the world. This was Phoenix…circa 1970 or thereabots. The half-completed building just left of center is the Valley National Bank (Chase) building, completed in 1972. There was no towering City Hall building because it wasn’t built until the 90s. This photo was a slice of history.

Here’s a similar view today from Google Earth. Is it any wonder I didn’t immediately recognize that first photo?

The Chase building remains the tallest (and totally unoccupied at this point) in the city, but it’s now buried among its peers and not easily seen unless you look really hard for it.

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One Simple Question

I can’t help but think that if this were any other country in the world he would’ve been pulled out of his palace and strung up to swing in the wind…

Just sayin.

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Friday Fuckery As Told By Jeff Tiedrich

you knew this was coming.

after Mad King Donny shitcanned the Commissioner of Labor Statistics for committing the treasonous crime of understanding how numbers work, it was only a matter of time before he announced that he had the actual job numbers — and they were great numbers. numbers like no one’s ever seen. maybe greatest numbers of all time.

yesterday was that day.

the Mad King excitedly dragged reporters into that vulgar bordello that used to be the Oval Office, held up a chart, and went see? see?

see what, exactly? Donny never explains.

this one chart really says it better than anything, if you look at this. this is great. but this chart is pretty amazing. right here. all new numbers.”

excuse me, Mr. President, but I have a question: what the fuck are you talking about?

seriously, does anyone have any idea what that chart is supposed to represent? we don’t know. the lettering is too tiny to read, and Donny never tells us. are those the number of times Donny’s mentioned in the Epstein Files?

what does the line in that chart signify? no one has the slightest clue. all we see is that it’s going up. up to where? to eleven?

break out the champagne, our roaring economy has finally gone all the way up to eleven.

are you wondering where that chart came from?

I hope you’re sitting down, because you’re going to be shocked when you learn that the numbers in that chart were ginned up, just to mollify the thinnest-skinned imbecile ever to load a diaper in the Oval Office.

Donny needed a compliant yes-man willing to fake some fairy-tale data, and oh boy, did he ever find one.

During an impromptu news conference, the president displayed charts from Stephen Moore, an economist at the conservative Heritage Foundation, that he said proved his economy was better than that of his predecessor, President Joseph R. Biden Jr.

oh look, it’s Stephen Moore, God’s Gift to Gibberish.

that’s just fucking great. Moore is one of these supply-side goons. he’s spent the last thirty years beating the drums for zero taxes for billionaires and the end of regulations. tell me, how has that economic hokus-pokus worked out for the rest of us?

seriously, though: Moore was purposely making happy-time charts for an Audience of One.

It just so happened that the Heritage Foundation economist had been crunching some census data, and he began assembling the figures into graphs that he knew would please the president.

“I showed him about five or six of these charts, and he was excited about the good news,” Mr. Moore said in an interview. “So he said let’s have an impromptu press conference.”

so that’s how we got the performative nonsense that played out in the Oval Office yesterday. some Heritage Foundation goofus went running to Donny to placate him with some made-up data, and Donny — who in no way understood what he was looking at — decided that the White House press pool had to get involved.

get in here, everyone — come see the line that goes all the way up.

Moore pretty much admitted that these ‘amazing’ new numbers were pulled straight from his ass.

Mr. Moore said his numbers were based on unpublished data from the Census Bureau, which means they are difficult to verify independently.

now let’s go live to the Heritage Foundation, where economists are busy crunching that ahem unpublished data.

tell me, is it a bad thing when a so-called quote-unquote economics expert doesn’t know the difference between ‘median’ and ‘medium’?

I really need to know, because here’s one of the charts that Donny and Supply Side Steve showed off to reporters.

let’s zoom in.

holy shit, it says ‘medium income,’ which is definitely not a thing — unless I’m unaware of the existence of ‘rare income’ and ‘well-done income.’

you can’t even google ‘medium income.’ when I tried, google assumed I had meant to type median, and displayed results for that.

how does an alleged economist not know this? this is who Donny has spoon-feeding imaginary good-news numbers to him. does it even matter that the charts make no sense? not at all, when the only goal is to please Dear Leader.

this is all so fucking embarrassing.

America is now an international laughingstock, because our president is such an unmanageable child that he has to be shielded from bad news.

you know who else had to be shielded from bad news because everyone was terrified of making him mad, don’t you? of course you do.

did you know that during the Donny’s first reign, there was a guy in the White House they called the Music Man? I shit you not.

According to a new book by former White House press secretary Stephanie Grisham, the “music man” was the only person who could manage Trump’s “terrifying” temper, playing hit songs from musicals to help calm him down.

This included the maudlin Cats ballad “Memory,” which finds an old, unloved feline pining for the days when she was young, beautiful, and adored.

this is our president: a colicky toddler who needs show tunes to keep him from stroking out. we really are living in the shittiest possible timeline.

but the current White House staff has one-upped the old one. they don’t need any Music Man to play syrupy show tunes, not this time around. the new plan is to coddle Dear Leader inside a impenetrable bubble of ignorance, by taking whatever steps are necessary to ensure that he never encounters a single piece of unpleasant news. if that includes ginning up nonsensical charts about how “medium income” is through the fucking roof, so be it.

and if keeping Donny happy includes letting him steal whatever he can get his greasy hands on, well, so be that, too. in that video clip at the top of this post, did you notice what Donny now proudly displays behind his desk?

oh look, it’s the Club World Cup Trophy that Preznit Grabbyhands stole. you remember that story: the head of FIFA brought the trophy to the White House to show it off, and Donny was all that’s mine now. the team that actually won that trophy had to make do with a cheap replica — because nobody wanted to make the Mad King madder.

we also had to allow Donny to steal the Declaration of Independence and hog it all for himself. there it is, on the wall behind that farcical ‘medium income’ chart.

have you noticed that every day, there’s more and more of that cheap gold-plated tat glued to every square inch of the Oval Office? look what he’s done to the fucking door.

hey Donny, I just got off the phone with the ghost of Liberace. he says to tone it the fuck down, you cheap hoodlum.

speaking of gaudy, here’s the most-recent photo of that abomination that they’re still calling the Rose Garden. the cement slab has now been festooned with patio tables.

why? who is supposed to be sitting in them?

but hang on, there’s something familiar about those umbrellas. they look pretty golf-motelly to me. wouldn’t you agree? wait a minute, I know where I’ve seen those umbrellas before. they’re exactly the same as the ones on the patio of Motel-a-Lago!

oh my god. fake charts, cheap golden tat, stolen treasures, and now a Rose Garden that’s a dime-store knockoff of his own dime-store golf motel.

he’s such a pathetic fucking child.

try not to laugh — or cry — at how embarrassing this all is. you don’t want to make the Mad King mad.

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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