Vomiting It All Catching Up
Tuesday Tiedrich
Preznit Fuckwit continues to wage Schrödinger’s Don’t-You-Dare-Call-It-A-War on Iran.
we’re winning! we’ve almost won! we’re wrapping this thing up! we’ve already won, and that’s why we’re sending five thousand more troops to the region! we’re talking to the new regime! we think we’re talking to the new regime! we don’t know who we’re talking to! the Strait of Hormuz is already open! we demand Iran open the Strait immediately! who gives a shit about the Strait, we don’t need it! our allies are helping us! why won’t our allies help us? fuck you, we don’t need any allies to win this thing! besides, we’ve already won, again!
it’s exhausting to try to track it all — but the one consistent aspect throughout all this incoherence remains Donny’s love of doing war crimes.
I mean, how else can you explain this?
The United States of America is in serious discussions with A NEW, AND MORE REASONABLE, REGIME to end our Military Operations in Iran. Great progress has been made but, if for any reason a deal is not shortly reached, which it probably will be, and if the Hormuz Strait is not immediately “Open for Business,” we will conclude our lovely “stay” in Iran by blowing up and completely obliterating all of their Electric Generating Plants, Oil Wells and Kharg Island (and possibly all desalinization plants!), which we have purposefully not yet “touched.” This will be in retribution for our many soldiers, and others, that Iran has butchered and killed over the old Regime’s 47 year “Reign of Terror.” Thank you for your attention to this matter. President DONALD J. TRUMP
that was our fucked-in-the-head president, awake and colicky at 7:26 yesterday morning, shitting out yet another not-tweet full of contradictory nonsense.
first he brags about how super-awesome the negotiations are going with his new Iranian besties, and then he cranks the belligerence dial all the way to eleven, threatening to bomb the shit out of Iran if they don’t give him everything he wants, pronto.
look at what Donny threatens to ‘obliterate’ — the ‘Electric Generating Plants, Oil Wells and Kharg Island (and possibly all desalinization plants).’
fun true fact: there’s a term for the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure. it’s called committing war crimes — because all that shit violates international law.
I hate that we’ve normalized this shit, so let me once again point out how completely crazypants it is for a world leader to threaten a sovereign nation and promise to commit war crimes via a post on social media. no other country on the planet does this. America is now a rogue state, and an international embarrassment.
awesome job, Donny. take a victory lap.
apparently Wall Street only read the first sentence of Donny’s not-tweet, because following its posting, the stock market reacted in the most Wall Street way possible.
“Dow rises 400 points after Trump says U.S. in ‘serious’ talks to end operation in Iran:”
seriously, Wall Street? how many times are you going to fall for this shit? once again, Donny farts out some deliberate lie about how well his Iranian debacle is going, and once again, Wall Street is all ‘this time I’m going to kick that football a fucking mile!’
of course there’s a simple explanation for Donny’s ever-shifting narrative about how well his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war is going: he’s stark barking bugfuck, and he hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s doing.
Plastered Pete Kegstand convinced Donny that his warfighting warfigherswould warfight the shit out of Iran, and that the whole thing would be over in fifteen minutes. when that didn’t happen, there was no plan B to turn to — because these high-on-their-own-supply shitwits always act first and think never.
and now, all Dear Leader can do is panic, flail, issue threats, and try to lie his way out of it by farting out one barely-credible fairy tale after another.
it’s Schrödinger’s War. it’s going however Donny wants you to believe it’s going.
isn’t this bloodthirsty bobble-head supposed to be some sort of uber-Christian? what kind of example is she setting for her children?
Karoline thinks it’s super fucking hilarious that the Ayatollah done got blowed up real good right in the middle of negotiations, because Donny got impatient — which, if that’s not an outright war crime, is at least war-crime-adjacent.
let’s watch NBC’s Garrett Haake commit one of the finest journalisms we’ve seen in a long time, as he asks Karoliar to explain why Donny is threatening to blow civilian shit up real good.
Garrett Haake: “under international law, striking civilian infrastructure like that is generally prohibited. why is the president threatening what would amount to potentially a war crime with the US military? how you do square that with the administration repeatedly saying that the US does not target civilians?”
excellent question — one that gets an evasive non-answer answer.
Karoline Leavitt: “look, the president has made it quite clear to the Iranian regime at this moment in time, as evidenced by the statement that you just read, that their best move is to make a deal, or else the United States armed forces has capabilities beyond their wildest imagination, and the president is not afraid to use them.”
Haake: “war crimes?”
Leavitt: “that’s not what I said, Garrett. and you’re saying the word ‘potential’ for a reason, ’cause I’m sure some experts are telling you that in your ear, to try to ask me that question. of course this administration and the armed forces will always act within the confines of the law, but with respect to achieving the full objectives of the operation.”
but Haake won’t take bullshit for an answer and delivers the coup de grace.
Haake: “which of those objectives would destroying a desalination plant most help?”
check and fucking mate. Brave Sir Karoline has no answer to that, so she just runs away and calls on a different reporter.
Leavitt: “Haley, go ahead.”
meanwhile, there is one war that Donny’s definitely winning: the war on competence. look at the chyron on this screen grab from CNN — it’s a big bowl of what in the actual fuck.
US questions whether it’s dealing with the right Iranian officials.”
how do you not know that? how do you fuck that up?
are these clownsticks just dialing random Tehran phone numbers and hoping for the best?
who does Donny imagine he’s been talking to, when he tweets out “The United States of America is in serious discussions with A NEW, AND MORE REASONABLE, REGIME”? is anyone from this ‘reasonable’ regime in the room with us right now?
U.S. President Donald Trump said the U.S. is negotiating with Iran’s parliamentary speaker, Mohammad Bagher Qalibaf, in an interview with the New York Post published Monday.
The former Revolutionary Guard commander was previously floated as Washington’s negotiating partner, but has denied Iran is talking to the U.S. and said Pakistan-facilitated discussions were merely a cover for American troop deployments.
you don’t even know who to believe anymore, because everyone involved in this catastrophe totally fucking sucks.
and then there’s this.
“President Trump told aides he’s willing to end the U.S. military campaign against Iran even if the Strait of Hormuz remains largely closed, administration officials said, likely extending Tehran’s firm grip on the waterway and leaving a complex operation to reopen it for a later date.”
oh great. now that Donny’s clownfucked the world into simultaneous energy and economic crises, he’s going to knock the board over and walk away.
anyone with a half a brain could have seen this coming a mile away.
the failing failure who failed at running a real estate empire and failed at running casinos and failed at running an airline and failed at running a magazine and failed at running a football team and failed at selling steaks and failed at selling water and failed at fighting a pandemic and failed at not getting convicted on 34 counts of business fraud has now failed at waging his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran.
and, as always, Donny is going to leave a huge fucking mess for someone else to clean up after.
not my problem!
hey, but at least Piss-Drunk Pete is having the time of his life.
I witnessed lethality. I met a junior airman as the sun was going down and a chill was setting on the tarmac, who, when asked what they needed, she simply looked up at me with a sly smile on her face and said, more bombs, sir, and bigger bombs. we will happily oblige her.”
‘I witnessed lethality’ — who talks like this, other than some insecure adolescent boy who never matured into an adult?
fuck all the way off, you blood-spattered maniac. eat skateboard.
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.
let’s start off with a bang, and put the hero of the day right up top. ladies and gents, I give you the Poet Laureate of No Kings Day.
‘see you later, alligator. at your trial, pedophile’ — now that’s a message we can all get behind.
we did it again, folks. in fact, We the People outdid ourselves. yesterday’s No Kings 3 was the largest single-day protest in U.S. history.
over eight million of us gathered peacefully coast to coast, to rise up as one and convey a singular message: fuck you, you fucking fuck — you’re not our king.
wait, did I say coast to coast? no, it was the entire world telling Donny Convict to fuck straight off.
check out this ginormous crowd in London.
HAPPENING NOW: A HUGE crowd has gathered in London, England for a protest against the far right in coordination with the No Kings day protests in the US
— alexjungle.bsky.social (@alexjungle.bsky.social) March 28, 2026 at 8:07 AM
and at the Bastille in Paris.
In 1789, furious protesters stormed the Bastille in Paris. This marks the start of the French Revolution that put an end to the highly corrupt, rotten regime of aristocrats and the ultra rich.
Yesterday, thousands joined a #NoKings protest at the Bastille.
— Hendrik Klaassens #FBPE #FBR #BanX (@aurorablogspot.bsky.social) March 29, 2026 at 2:39 AM
Scotland fucking loathes Donny.
Solidarity from #Scotland. ????????????????????????????????????
#NoKings
— Dial M for Madeye ???????????????????????????? ???????? ???????????????????????????? (@carnaptiousmadeye.bsky.social) March 28, 2026 at 11:32 PM
so does Portugal.
Germany’s seen this movie before, and they want no part of its sequel.
two stalwarts showed up in the town of Ballarat, Victoria, Australia.
holy shit, there was even one homey who parked himself in front of the US embassy in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia.
this dude fucking rules. he held the exact same one-person protest during the previous No Kings Day last October.
meanwhile, back here in the US of A, the crowds were gi-fucking-normous.
over two hundred thousand people showed up in Boston.
of course, Boston is in the major leagues when it comes to protesting. they’ve been perfecting this shit since 1773.
another two hundred thousand showed up at the rally in the Twin Cities.
We are estimating more than 200,000 people at the flagship No Kings rally in the Twin Cities. #NoKings
— Indivisible ❌???? (@indivisible.org) March 28, 2026 at 12:37 PM
while we’re in the Twin Cities, you need to hear this chunk from comedian Lizz Winstead’s great speech.
“I’m so proud of you. you chased out of this state pure evil. you chased them out. you chased out the fun-size fascist Greg Bovino. you chased out that evil Kristi Noem. Kristi Noem is so evil, I’m starting to think that that dog took his own life. just couldn’t take it. ‘is this my future? I need to get out. I’m taking the goat with me.’”
Times Square in New York City was packed to the gills.
so was Chicago.
San Francisco does not screw around. at Ocean Beach, protesters formed a human banner telling Donny to get the fuck out.
check out deeply-red Boise, Idaho, folks. even Republicans are fed up with this shit.
Bill Kristol, who used to be the biggest neocon in the world and is now an actual goddamned social progressive, was in Waltham, MA.
No Kings rally in Waltham, MA.
Enjoyed talking with many of the assembled patriots. pic.twitter.com/TOcOAksVN2
— Bill Kristol (@BillKristol) March 28, 2026
huge crowds were everywhere — except for one place: the CPAC conference in Texas.
it’s as if Sad Trombone became a real political party.
now let’s check out some heroes — like this dude in Seattle.
we definitely need to gif this hilarious shit for posterity’s sake.
it was raining frogs in the District of Columbia.
we’re going to need to gif that shit, too.
handmaidens bearing the names of Jeffrey Epstein’s degenerate BFFs showed up in Nashville.
there’s no way we’re not giffing that shit.
hey, do you know who can go fuck themselves all the way to Mars? the Los Angeles Police Department, that’s who. these goons couldn’t make it through the day without arresting a protester who was dressed up as the Statue of Liberty.
A remarkable photo from #NoKings in DTLA from Connor Sheets of @latimes.com www.latimes.com/california/l…
— sam³⁰⁰⁰ (@samgavin.com) March 28, 2026 at 7:09 PM
great optics, you guys. bravo. ten out of ten — no notes.
fuck those fucking fucks. let’s got out with a bang. here are some of the best protest signs from around the country.
look at these heroes way up in Barrow, Alaska.
and finally, once again, our unknown poet laureate from Ellsworth, Maine.
as for Sundowning Grandpa Bugfuck, he was unusually silent — and nowhere to be seen. there were none of his usual protest-day batshit meltdowns on the feed of his crappy app. he couldn’t even be bothered to post AI slop of himself shitting on protesters, as he did last October.
he just spent the day holed up in Motel-a-Lago. according to his official schedule, the lazy fuck didn’t even bother to cheat at golf.
I’ve got a news flash for you, Donny: America is sick of you. aside from your brain-dead cultists who are too fucking stupid to understand what’s going on, nobody voted for this shit.
nobody voted for the historic and stately East Wing to be demolished so that you can replace it with some vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ — and speaking of your dead pedo bestie, nobody voted for the continuing cover-up of a massive pedophile ring.
nobody voted for off-the-charts corruption and greed.
nobody voted for masked ICE thugs teargassing children, and murdering anyone who looks at them funny. nobody voted for innocent immigrants to be disappeared off the streets and shipped off to far-away slave-labor gulags.
nobody voted for the price of everything continuing to skyrocket — especially when you promised bring all that shit down on Day One.
nobody voted for our allies to be insulted and ignored, or for Ukraine to be thrown to the wolves, or for Greenland to be perpetually harassed, or for Venezuela to become a vassal state.
and nobody voted for an unwinnable clusterfuck of a don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran — certainly not one that shut down the Strait of Hormuz, destabilized the entire Middle East, and sent the price crude through the roof.
guess what, Donny: you’re such a loathsome piece of shit that over eight million people took to the streets yesterday to deliver this singular message: fuck you, you fucking fuck — you’re not our king, and you never will be.
boo fucking hoo, bro. sucks to be you.
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.
Sometimes you don’t notice attrition when it happens.
When you lose elemental parts of yourself, they don’t all depart at once, and since you’re sustaining the daily woundings of this life from the inside, you may not be aware of the thousands of tiny cuts at the time. You may not notice the lifeblood slowly draining from your spirit.
In fact, you might believe you’re who you’ve always been, until something reminds you of the you you used to be.
No Kings Day reminded me.
Earlier this week, I wrote a piece as Saturday approached, questioning the ultimate merits of the rally in helping us avoid an inexorable slide into fascism. Some suggested that I’d become more negative and fatalistic, that they missed the me they’d encountered a few years ago.
While not completely agreeing with them, I couldn’t ignore the fatigue of the last decade; the collective sorrows accumulated along the way, the sad deja vu of, for at least the 30th time, heading out into a beautiful day to confront the very leaders entrusted with protecting our Republic and its people.
I may not have been despondent, but I’ve certainly been feeling the wear and tear of the draining dog years of this regime.
But, yesterday, as I stood shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of similarly exhausted, equally disheartened, but still not ready to call it a day human beings lining the streets of our little North Carolina town, I found a few things I hadn’t even realized I’d lost.
I found joy.
There is a silent toll that witnessing so much suffering takes on compassionate people, especially when you work so hard to remain awake and aware. Being reminded every day of just how many human beings are experiencing such wasteful brutality can gradually suffocate the spirit, rendering us joyless. One of the first sounds I noticed as I found myself within the pulsating mass of humanity on that highway was the sound of laughter, and it was my own. I realized it had been a while since I’d heard it like this: easy, constant, booming. The joy was medicinal. It was infectious. This was not a dour, dismal acknowledgement of defeat, as much as it was a joyfully defiant dance party of pissed-off people who haven’t let a minority movement of misery make them incapable of restorative jubilation.
I found hope.
One of the goals of authoritarian regimes is to extinguish the lightness from people; to inundate them with a legion of emergencies and nightmares that require so much energy to confront that they begin to lose the ability to see anything ahead worth pursuing. When optimism dries up, the future becomes a bleak foregone conclusion. I hadn’t realized I had been chronically emotionally dehydrated. That is, until once surrounded by a swirling technicolor sea of activists, fighters, healers, helpers, and dreamers in the blazing North Carolina sun, I could feel hope returning within me: not a naive one that denies the gravity of the moment or the reality of the threats, but a hope that refuses to give this ugliness the last word.
I found another America.
There’s been a story that’s made headlines in my head lately: the one of this nation’s certain demise; the one where fascism’s presence will be permanent; the one where we are now hopelessly overrun in both the government and our electorate with violent, hateful, cruel people who find joy in the suffering of others. And while there’s no debating that a sizable segment of America certainly fits that description, the vast majority here (those who made their presence unmistakable felt throughout this nation yesterday by the millions) is comprised of beautiful, loving, patriotic human beings who don’t just believe in the idea of America, they embody it. I remembered that throughout its nearly quarter of a millennium history, this place has always been inside the crucible of conflict, because the country we aspire to be cannot be incarnated without it.
I found a bit of myself.
One of the greatest tragedies of the last decade is how wasteful it’s all been: the unnecessary emergencies generated by those in power, the unrelenting assaults on vulnerable people, the never-ending constitutional crises, the stupefying cruelty, and the collateral damage of trying to hold and attend to all of it.
I’m not who I was ten years ago, and some of that is a good thing. But for a couple of hours in the streets of our town that seems to finally be waking up, I was able to clarify what matters to me, the things and the people worth fighting for, and the kind of human being I want to show up in the world as.
Yesterday won’t magically rewind the clock pre-election and let us have a do-over. It doesn’t suddenly erase the unprecedented damage to our systems and safeguards. It alone can’t bend the arc of the moral universe away from fascism. That will require a sustained and organized presence, political engagement leading into the midterms like we’ve never seen, and very likely, a general strike.
But No Kings Day was a glorious reminder of how vital joy, hope, diversity, and our collective efforts are in resisting this Renaissance of hatred.
Our Republic is still in great peril, but we, its fierce caretakers who number in the tens of millions, are still not ready to consent to defeat.
With all we’ve had thrown at us for ten years by this batshit wanna be despot, his morally bankrupt accomplices, and his cultic disciples, that, in itself, is a victory.
Tuesday Tiedrich
tell me, is it a bad thing when the president of the United States clownfucks his way into an unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran, kills over a hundred schoolgirls, destabilizes the entire Middle East, gets the Strait of Hormuz shut down, creates a global energy and financial crisis, and then, realizing he’s shit the bed royally, tries to lie his way out of it?
lucky us, we’re right in the middle of finding out.
yesterday morning, President Piss-Baby declared that a five-day ceasefire was now in effect, because he’d been having some great peace talks with Iran, very strong, very powerful peace talks, peace talks like few thought possible — maybe the greatest peace talks of all time.
the most important thing you need to know about Donny’s all caps crazypants blithering is that it’s pure, unadulterated horse shit. it’s a fever-swamp hallucination — and very little of it is true.
first of all, Iran mocked the shit out of the very idea that peace talks are happening, throwing Donny’s favorite phrase back in his face.
“No negotiations have been held with the US, and fake news is used to manipulate the financial and oil markets and escape the quagmire in which the US and Israel are trapped,” wrote MB Ghalibaf, Iran’s parliament speaker.
here’s another clue that Donny doesn’t even have the framework of a concept of a sketch of an outline for a proposal of an almost-a-plan for peace talks: when reporters pressed him for details, he just started pulling numbers out of his flatulent ass.
Kaitlan Collins: “you said there’s many points of agreement with Iran right now.”
Donny: “many.”
Collins: “can you give us a few?”
Donny: “like, many. like, fifteen points. fifteen points.”
Collins: “that Iran said yes to?”
Donny: “well, they’re not gonna have a nuclear weapon. that’s number one. number one, two and three. they will never have a nuclear weapon.”
Collins: “they’ve said yes to that?”
Donny: “they agreed to that.”
oh, so Donny is claiming that Iran has agreed to the same deal they’d previously signed with Obama — the one that Donny ripped up eight years ago, because he was jealous of a black man’s accomplishments. awesome.
I love how Donny goes from ‘many’ to ‘fifteen’ as he struggles to come up with a plausible story. and ‘no nuclear weapons’ isn’t just the first point — it’s also the second. no, wait, it’s the third point as well. yeah, that’s the ticket.
watching Dear Leader try improvise numbers on the spot is like watching a chimpanzee play with a live hand grenade. you know it’s going to end badly, but you can’t look away.
I guess Donny used ‘fifteen’ because ‘fifty-seven’ was already taken.
hen, when pressed to name names, Preznit Fuckwit started bullshitting in real-time.
reporter: “who is Steve Witkoff speaking with in Iran?”
Donny: “a top— a top person. don’t forget, we wiped out the leadership, phase one, phase two and largely phase three. but we’re dealing with the man who I believe is— the— most respected and the leader, uh, it’s a little tough. they’ve wiped out— we’ve wiped out everybody.”
reporter: “the Supreme Leader?”
Donny: “no, not the Supreme Leader. we don’t— well nobody’s ever— nobody heard of the second Supreme Leader, the son. nobody— we have not heard from the son. every once in a while you’ll see a statement made but we haven’t had— we don’t know if he’s living. but the people that seem to be running it, and they seem that based on— really fact, because things they’ve said have taken place. I don’t want him to be killed. okay? I don’t want him to be killed.”
I’m sorry, what the fuck? Donny doesn’t want to identify the ‘top person’ he’s been talking to, because they’ll end up being killed? by who? his own government? how does that even make sense?
but Donny will swear up and down that this ‘top person’ really does exist. you don’t know him, though. he lives up in Canada.
and did you catch who Donny’s point-man is in these talks? oh great, Stevie Shitkoff is involved — and not just Shitkoff, but Donny’s over-leveraged and under-qualified son-in-law Jared Kushner as well.
with the Moron Twins on the case, what could possibly go wrong?
as always, to get the real deal on what these dumbfucks have been up to, we have to turn to the indispensable Heather Cox Richardson.
Barak Ravid of Axios later reported that Witkoff and Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner—both freelancers who have financial ties to the Middle East—rather than the U.S. secretary of state, Marco Rubio, have sent messages to the speaker of the Iranian parliament, Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, through Egypt, Pakistan, and Turkey, where intermediaries are trying to set up a call between U.S. and Iranian negotiators. Ghalibaf is a close associate of Iran’s new supreme leader, Mojtaba Khamenei.
so wait — these two numbskulls have been messaging complete randos, hoping and waiting to hear back from someone, anyone? and Donny’s conflated that into ‘good and productive conversations’ with a ‘top person’?
holy fucking shit.
it cannot be overstated just how fucking stupid this all is.
no one could have predicted that a don’t-yo-dare-call-it-a-war that was cooked up by fuckwits and executed from the dining of one of Donny’s vermin-infested golf motels would go so badly.
and now that shit has gone spectacularly sideways, as the markets crater and the price of a barrel of crude goes fuckity-zoom, Donny has no choice but to find a way to TACO out of it, declare victory, and brag that he meant to do that.
dear sweet lord, it’s all so fucking bone-crushingly moronic — and none of it was necessary.
“No negotiations have been held with the US, and fakenews is used to manipulate the financial and oil markets and escape the quagmire in which the US and Israel are trapped.”
no fucking shit that Donny was manipulating the markets by announcing his imaginary peace talks when he did — because just look at what happened right before and right after the announcement.
person or persons unknown made a fucking killing in the market — and the only way they could have pulled this off was by having insider knowledge of what was Donny was about to announce.
the market-rigging was so blatant that even financial reporters had no choice but to sit up and take notice.
At around 6:50 a.m. in New York, S&P 500 e-Mini futures trading on the CME recorded a sharp and isolated jump in volume, breaking from an otherwise subdued premarket backdrop. With thin liquidity typical of early trading hours, the sudden burst stood out as one of the largest volume moments of the session up to that point.
it’s really too bad that Congress isn’t alive to see this, because this is exactly the kind of shit they should be investigating.
it’s just one more instance of naked corruption to be thrown atop the giant shitpile of corruption that goes on every day in Dear Leader’s White House. everything these goniffs do is engineered to shovel more money into the pockets of Donny, his family, and his cronies.
how much moolah did Preznit Fuckwit make off his own conveniently-timed announcement of his fictitious peace talks?
will we ever find out?
here’s the other batshit thing Donny did yesterday: he visited Graceland, Elvis Presley’s Memphis mansion — and while he was there, he asked the one burning question that I’m sure has been on all of our minds.
“could I have taken Elvis in a fight?”
what a fucking lunatic. who even thinks like this?
I know exactly what’s going on with Donny’s desire to whale the tar out of the King of Rock and Roll. it’s pure jealousy on his part — because there was one president who really did get to meet Elvis: Richard Nixon.
On December 21, 1970, Elvis Presley paid a visit to President Richard M. Nixon at the White House in Washington, D.C. The meeting was initiated by Presley, who wrote Nixon a six-page letter requesting a visit with the President and suggesting that he be made a “Federal Agent-at-Large” in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.
oh, and while he was there in the Oval Office, Elvis gave Tricky Dick a gun — as will happen when everyone in the story is a certified weirdo.
how fucking hilarious is it that Elvis wanted to be a ‘Federal Agent-at-Large’ in charge of ‘dangerous drugs’? that’s like making Donny a Federal Agent In Charge of Not Bankrupting Casinos.
hanging on the wall in the White House gallery is a photo of Nixon and Elvis shaking hands. Donny probably walks past that photo every day — and I’m sure it kills him that Nixon got to meet Elvis, and he never will.
hey, you know who else got to walk past that photo?
yes, we get it, Jeff. you got invited to the Biden White House. stop showing off.
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.
A Message to the Would-Be King…
We see that you’ve declared yet another war this week.
This time, you haven’t viciously attacked some distant nation whose people you’ve bombed without cause, as a reckless and deadly act of distraction.
This time, you haven’t launched a violent campaign against brown-skinned human beings, whose dehumanization you’ve trafficked in for over a decade.
This time, you haven’t brought relentless trauma to survivors of the predators and rapists, among whose numbers you find yourself.
This time, you haven’t marshaled a savage offensive on the electoral process, or trans kids, or women’s rights, or environmental protections alone.
No, this time, you’ve declared war on all of us: the Radical Left.
You see, we know it isn’t merely a political party that you’re threatened by, trying to silence, consumed with hatred for, and seeking to eradicate—it’s the American people.
It’s those of us who stand in your way; those whose knees refuse to bow and whose mouths will not regurgitate the curated praise of sycophants and cult members that you bathe your eggshell ego in.
It’s students of history who know a failing, flailing wannabe dictator in a death spiral when they see one, and who have no interest in kissing the ring, shutting our mouths, or quietly complying.
It’s people of conscience who’ve courageously served, fought, bled, and died for this nation to defeat fascism on foreign shores, and who damn well aren’t going to allow it to thrive here.
It’s generations of activists and allies who decades ago braved water cannons, beatings, and arrests so that every human being could be afforded the dignity they deserve, and that you would deny them.
It’s people of true and abiding faith who refuse to allow you to make a mockery of a God you have never sought, a Jesus you have contempt for, and a religion you drape yourself in to cover your wickedness.
It’s human beings of every pigmentation, orientation, nation of origin, religious tradition, and political affiliation who will not allow a Temu authoritarian to write the epitaph for our 250-year republic.
We are all the Radical Left.
And you, you teetering, jittery lame duck, dollar store despot, have declared war on all decent, law-abiding people here, and we’re to tell you that you cannot win.
You are the enemy of the people, of We The People,” the fierce, unwieldy multitude whose presence here is your greatest remaining obstacle.
And so we declare war on you.
You’ll see us gather by the millions this weekend, filling city streets, highway overpasses, city parks, parking lots, and neighborhood sidewalks, declaring our collective opposition. We will stand together as a defiant army of sustained resistance, unlike anything this nation has ever witnessed.
But rest assured, we’ll be there well after the sun sets on that day.
We will be in our neighborhoods, outnumbering the masked monsters you deploy to terrorize and brutalize.
We will be in our communities, feeding, clothing, and caring for one another, protecting the most vulnerable whom you so gladly prey upon.
We’ll be organizing in our communities to support candidates, monitor the polls, and protect people whose voices you are working so hard to silence.
We’ll be relentlessly hounding the compromised lawmakers and public servants who would discard their oaths and abdicate their responsibilities just to please you.
We’ll be everywhere your cultic disciples show up to let them know that they are part of a miserable minority that will not prevail.
And believe us when we tell you that we will defeat you and we will outlast you.
When you leave the office or this planet, whichever comes first, we will be here to rebuild what you have broken, to heal all that you have injured, to tear your name from every place you have defiled with it, and to course-correct from the greatest collective error in our nation’s history.
And so today, we, the Radical Left, raise a defiant middle finger, we spit on the ground in front of you, we defy your will, and we piss on your crown.
The King is already dead.
In just over a year, things didn’t just change. They distorted.
Not all at once, not in a single moment you could point to and say, there, that’s when it broke, it was slower than that, more insidious, like something bending just slightly out of place over and over again until one day you look around and realize nothing sits where it used to, and the strangest part is not the chaos itself, it is the way it is being presented back to us as normal, as reasonable, as something we are supposed to adjust to without question.
We are living through a time where leaders stand at podiums and speak about God while starting wars that leave children buried under rubble. They invoke faith while funding violence. They talk about sacrifice, but the sacrifice is never theirs.
It is always yours. It is always the people choosing between groceries and rent, the people watching gas prices climb while being told to be patient, to understand the bigger picture, to do their part. It is always the families absorbing the cost of decisions they never made, while those same leaders frame rising costs as necessary, as unavoidable, as the price of something bigger, even as billions continue to move freely through a system that somehow always has room for excess.
People are being told to tighten their budgets and brace for impact, told to accept higher costs as necessary, while the Pentagon spends tens of billions in a single month, with millions going not just to defense but to luxury food, lobster and crab, steak, furniture, electronics, even items that signal comfort and status rather than necessity, a level of spending that makes it painfully clear that austerity is not a shared condition, it is something imposed, all while it is burning through roughly a billion dollars a day on a senseless war.
At the same time, people are calculating groceries down to the dollar and watching their cost of living climb in real time, while those in power continue to move through private golf courses, luxury properties, political fundraisers, and expansion projects like ballrooms, operating inside a world that remains untouched by the consequences they are asking everyone else to absorb.
So when they stand there and talk about sacrifice, what they mean is your sacrifice. When they talk about endurance, what they mean is your endurance. When they tell you to bear the cost, what they mean is that the cost will not be theirs. They say it with a straight face. They say it while looking directly into the camera, as if the disconnect is not obvious, as if we cannot see the gap between what they preach and how they live, as if invoking God somehow cleanses the cruelty of what they are doing.
That is the part that unsettles something deep in the body, because it is not just policy and it is not just economics. It is the moral inversion of it all, the rewriting of right and wrong in real time, where greed calls itself strength, where cruelty calls itself practicality, and where indifference calls itself leadership.
If you have found yourself feeling like you are losing your grip on reality, like you are constantly trying to reconcile what you know to be true with what you are being told is true, that is not a failure in you, that is your awareness working exactly as it should, this moment has demanded something unnatural from people, it has asked you to watch suffering and call it strategy, to watch excess and call it success, to watch hypocrisy dressed up as righteousness and pretend not to notice, it has asked you to go numb.
And a lot of people have. You can see it and you can feel it, the quiet checking out, the “this is just how things are now,” the slow acceptance of things that not long ago would have stopped us in our tracks, but not everyone has gone there, there are still people who see clearly.
There is still something in people that resists, and you can see it in the anger that will not settle, in the discomfort that will not go away, in that persistent feeling that something is wrong even when the noise is telling you everything is fine, and that is not weakness and that is not overreaction, that is the part of you that still recognizes truth when it sees it, and that matters more than anything right now.
What is happening is not just political, it is not just about one administration or one set of policies, it is about the normalization of a way of thinking that separates power from consequence, that allows people to make decisions that reshape millions of lives while remaining untouched by the outcomes of those decisions, it is about a system where those in charge can tell you to endure hardship while actively insulating themselves from it, and then call that leadership, call it necessary, and somehow call it good.
There is a kind of psychological strain that comes from living inside that contradiction every day, from seeing clearly and being told not to trust what you see, from feeling deeply and being told you are overreacting, from watching people justify things that should never need justification. It wears on you. It makes time feel strange and reality feel unstable. But here is the truth that I think a lot of people need to hear right now.
If you feel disoriented, it is because you are paying attention. If you feel angry, it is because something in you still knows what should not be accepted. If you feel like the world has been turned upside down, it is because in many ways it has, and choosing not to adapt to that upside-down version of reality is not a failure, it is clarity.
There is power in refusing to normalize what should not be normal. There is power in holding onto your sense of right and wrong, even when it is inconvenient, even when it isolates you, even when it makes you the uncomfortable voice in the room, because that discomfort is honest, and honesty is becoming rarer by the day.
We are living in a time where people are being asked, very quietly and very consistently, to trade their humanity for comfort, to look away just enough to make it easier to function, to accept just enough to avoid conflict, and every time someone refuses to do that, it matters, every time someone says no, this is not okay, it matters, every time someone feels the weight of what is happening instead of numbing it out, it matters, that is how reality holds, not through the loudest voices and not through the people in power, but through the people who refuse to let what is happening rewrite their understanding of what is right.
So if this past year has left you feeling like something is off, like things do not add up, like the world is asking you to accept something you cannot accept, hold onto that, because that feeling is not confusion, it is recognition, and as long as that recognition is still there, as long as there are people who can still see clearly, still feel deeply, and still question what they are being told, this is not over.
Not even close.
A Note From Me:
I hope this helped put words to something you may have been feeling but couldn’t quite name, that quiet, persistent sense that something is off, that things don’t quite add up, that what you are being told does not fully align with what you are seeing and feeling in your own body. That subtle dissonance, the moments where you pause and question if it’s just you, if you’re overthinking it, if you’re the only one noticing, that is not something imagined. It is something many people are carrying, often silently, often without the language to say it out loud. You are not alone in that.
I try to write pieces like this because what we are living through is not just political, it is emotional, it is disorienting, and it is hard to make sense of in real time. I try to put language to that feeling, while also breaking down what is actually happening so we are not just feeling it, but understanding it. The context, the research, the clarity, and also the anger, the real, human anger that comes from watching things that should not be happening, happen anyway.
—Judith
Gasoline Prices Around The World
I love a single-purpose website like this. (I had no idea gas was so expensive in Hong Kong.)
[source]
Remove Him, You Fools!
Hey Bert…
Does this mean the rest of the Star Trek universe will come into existence too?
Cowards
Right?!
What An Asshole
From Palmer Report:
Robert Mueller passed away yesterday. Unfortunately for him he’ll be best remembered for leading a historically crucial investigation into how Donald Trump and Russia stole the 2016 presidential election, only for his investigation to ultimately go nowhere. But before that, Mueller was a strong FBI Director, and before that he was a decorated Vietnam combat veteran. You can easily criticize his work later in life, but you’d be hard pressed to criticize his character or his patriotism. And if you were stupid enough to do such a thing on the day Mueller died, you’d make yourself look unbelievably bad.
That’s why, when someone sent a supposed screenshot yesterday of Donald Trump responding to Robert Mueller’s passing with “Good, I’m glad he’s dead,” I initially assumed it was a fake. But then I went to Trump’s Truth Social site, and sure enough, he actually posted that. Trump actually said “I’m glad he’s dead.” In those exact words. In public. While sitting in the White House. Which he recently partially bulldozed.
If it’s starting to feel like there are no words to describe Trump’s behavior these days, that’s because there really are no words. Except maybe one: asshole. Yes, it’s crude. It’s an easy cheap shot. But how else can one possibly describe the manner in which Trump is now behaving? Yes, he has severe dementia. Yes, he’s increasingly angry at the world because he appears to be near death himself. And yes, he’s a corrupt and evil person who’s done more damage than anyone in American history. But Trump is also something on top of all that. He’s an asshole. Here’s the thing though.
What we’re seeing over the past month or two seems to be new territory even for Trump. When another decorated Vietnam combat veteran John McCain passed away several years ago, Trump initially refused to lower the White House flag to half mast. And when the great Rob Reiner was murdered a few months back, Trump suggested Reiner was to blame for his own death. These were hideous, spiteful, tasteless reactions to the deaths of broadly respected people. But at the time, Trump didn’t go so far as to say “I’m glad John McCain is dead” or “I’m glad Rob Reiner is dead.”
This is a whole new level of disgustingness from an individual who already long ago firmly established himself as one of the most disgusting people in history. As Donald Trump’s cognitive problems and physical health continue to bring him closer to his end, his behavior has become more distasteful than ever. It’s not going to get better. Perhaps deep down Trump knows that when he himself succumbs to his failing health before too much longer, billions of people are indeed going to say “Good, I’m glad he’s dead.” And they’ll have more than earned the right to say it.
That Ship Sailed in 2016…
Vomiting It All Up
“I Have Met Some Very Bad People. None As Bad As Trump. Not One Decent Cell In His Body.”
Well, These Things Happen
I Never Dropped An Anvil On Anyone Either
Happy Equinoxe!
“I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
These words are a continual presence these days.
I hear them a couple of hundred times a day in one form or another.
I read them in desperate social media outbursts.
I overhear them in coffee shop conversations.
I find them in my inbox from friends and from strangers.
I hear them in my own head.
They are the symptoms of a shared sickness we now find ourselves afflicted with: a sprawling homegrown mental health crisis. They are part of a growing national neurosis brought on by a continual assault on decency, sanity, and goodness by those in power.
Mental health is a daily battle, even on our best days.
During any given year in America, one in five adults (nearly 68 million people) experiences mental illness; 10 million of these people finding their lives fundamentally impacted by their internal, invisible maladies.
The personal toll of these diseases is almost incalculable: debilitating mood disorders, propensity toward addiction, susceptibility to physical illness, and regular feelings of isolation and hopelessness.
Nearly 50, 000 people die here by suicide each year, with 25 attempts for each of these deaths. Many of these premature passings have direct or indirect lines to undiagnosed, untreated, or treated but ultimately insurmountable sickness. At any given moment, tens of millions of people are fighting a battle in their own heads, just to stay here.
This is all under normal circumstances, and these are not at all normal circumstances.
These are days that tax people’s already burdened mental defense systems and emotional reserves by relentlessly targeting their places of vulnerability:
the real and manufactured emergencies designed by our leadership.
the daily, incessant legislative attacks on vulnerable people groups,
the normalized acts of violence this president not only tolerates but incites,
the untethered behavior regarding matters of national security, international relations, environmental stewardship, and human rights.
Our leadership is mentally unwell and lots of good, already hurting people see it clearly. They understand the gravity of these moments for our nation and they are rightly terrified by the lack of accountability, the absence of conscience, and the poverty of empathy.
Men and women, already prone to depression and anxiety, those normally driven to despair without any discernible cause or reason, now also have objective data that makes that hopelessness quite sensible.
The MAGA movement is making otherwise mentally healthy people emotionally sick and making already ill people much worse.
And a growing number of otherwise well people are developing a form of PTSD from continual exposure to a group of people in power whose malevolence and contempt for life are beyond comprehension. They, too, are finding the space within their own heads to be a dangerous one as they live within it all and try to make sense of senseless cruelty.
What’s worse, the GOP’s boundless assaults on human rights, their vicious crusades against science, their continual gaslighting of otherwise sensible people, and their reckless fake news conspiracy theories, aren’t just making those who oppose them prone to head sickness; they’re doing the same to their supporters.
Republican leaders are playing on their own rank-and-file’s paranoia, instability, and fear; ratifying their latent or active neuroses, and justifying the ways they now act out in both emotional and physical violence.
We are seeing daily acts of aggression in schools, churches, subways, city streets, and grocery stores by people whose own illnesses and frailties have been triggered by the incendiary language and calculated lies continually perpetuated from the top. If there is such a thing as Trump Derangement Syndrome, these are its symptoms.
America is sickly, and this regime is perfectly fine with that.
It’s no coincidence that the Trump Administration has drastically reduced funding for mental healthcare and removed barriers to ill people accessing firearms. This cocktail of chaos is what it thrives upon, traffics in, and desires.
In an environment populated by emotionally fragile and mentally unhealthy people, it’s much easier to act without accountability and to continue to take away resources, personal liberties, and human rights without recompense.
Mental illness is rarely treated with the same urgency and seriousness as physical illness, and the dismissal is even more profound in days when people feeling deep sadness and great empathy for others are derided as weak, overly emotional, or too sensitive. The callousness of these days makes brain maladies trivial, or worse, worthy of ridicule.
The President and those who support him in Congress are counting on exhausted people growing too weary from pushing back, too overwhelmed fighting their inner demons, and too hopeless to go on.
We can’t allow that.
We need to keep our eyes and ears open to the pain of others right now: to hear the suffering in their words or that is buried in their silence, and to move toward it.
We need to linger long enough to see people who are hurting; to notice their withdrawal and absence, and to make sure they’re OK.
We need to use the resources currently available of therapists, doctors, and counselors who understand these invisible sicknesses and how very real they are.
We need to gather in community to bolster and encourage one another, and to remind people that they aren’t alone in the wars they wage to get better.
We need to reach out to people in our own despair, in our sadness, in our own fight to stay here.
And we all need to carry one another and care for one another, realizing that the GOP has no desire to, and in fact is doing willful damage to the people they have sworn to protect.
We are not well, America.
Many of our leaders are really not well.
The sickest and most damaged among them sits in the Oval Office.
Together, we need to oppose the ugliness that collectively threatens us.
We need to care for our health and the health of those around us.
We need to work and vote to purge our nation of the curators of this chaos, so that we can get well together.
It Could Never Happen
Submitted Without Comment
How can anyone still support him?
Tens of millions of us still find ourselves asking this question, watching a staggering number of Americans somehow remain unflinching in their devotion to this President. Despite high crimes, sexual assaults, cognitive decline, reckless wars, and an authoritarian agenda, they remain seemingly giddy over his existence.
But Trump’s supporters aren’t necessarily pleased with the actual policies, tactics,
or methods, but with the results: pissing off the people they don’t like.
That is all that matters to them.
It’s the reason they vote the way they do.
It’s the reason their support is steadfast through pedophilia accusations and acts of treason and human rights disasters and wanton ignorance.
It’s the reason they remain emotionally infatuated with him despite his breaking every campaign promise.
Trump supporters have always seen his ascendency as a big “F— You” to his predecessor, to the identity politics that they feel has targeted them, and to an ever-diversifying nation that they see as a threat. More than affordable healthcare, unpolluted food, and economic opportunity, they want someone to stick it to the world on their behalf, and in their rage-addled state, they somehow believe he does that.
It’s a nationwide mental health crisis that seems both beyond repair and belief.
It’s terribly sad to admit that a huge portion of this nation is moved not primarily by party over country (which would be bad enough) but by spite: that they care more about flipping Democrats the bird than the sovereignty of our nation. To know that people you respected and loved and work with live with anger as their engine is a reason for mourning.
MAGA voters would rather give a strident middle finger to woke liberals, even at the expense of the air their kids breathe and the schools they attend.
They’d prefer to “own the Libs,” even if their medical bills bankrupt them, and businesses migrate away, and natural disasters go ignored.
Their white fragility is so profound that two years ago, they gave Trump another blank check because he’s reversing any recent advances by marginalized communities whose gains they see as threats to their own.
They still feel victorious, even though gas prices are astronomical, we’re immersed in chaos, nothing is trickling down, and America is not first.
Even professed Christians among them are willing to abandon any semblance of Christlikeness because they get back the nostalgic veneers and ceremonial trappings of God and Country that Obama couldn’t satisfy because of his pigmentation and his embracing of the world and its religions.
And so these people are now subsiding on Liberal tears and complete denial.
That is the only barometer for them in this moment of what is good, wise, or productive. It guides their vote, filters their media, defines their faith, and shapes their hearts. That’s why arguing policies or stating facts or attempting constructive conversation with them right now is almost impossible, because spite is irrational and stubborn and unmovable. It wants emotional food that feels good, even if it is filled with empty calories.
The only course of action right now is for those of us motivated by things otherthan revenge and payback and vitriol to be clear, loud, and unified.
We need to reach across all the divides, and to be about what we’re about, and to declare these things with clarity and without relenting or apology.
Our intent should no longer be understanding these people who are still emotionally bound to him. We do understand them. We’ve listened to them. That’s why we know that they cannot be convinced by any previously used methods to connect with rational people. Their blind hatred of the Left and their complete adoration of this President make them, practically speaking, unreachable currently.
They also remind us who we do not want to be.
Being motivated by spite is a really horrible way to go through this life, which is why the rest of us can’t make our response now be about these people and the angry wars they want to stay immersed in. It cannot be shaped by our grievances and complaints and purity stances either. We need to gaze higher than that.
The human and civil rights of our people, the future of our children, the integrity of our nation, our standing in the world, and the defense of our Constitution are all far too important to squander as a middle finger to people we want to piss off.
We’ve seen what that yields.
We need to live and work and vote for equality, diversity, compassion, love, and justice—not for spite.
I still remember the precise moment I stopped believing in hell.
Over two decades ago, I was at a Christmas dinner party in the home of a gay couple. From the outside, it looked like any holiday gathering: a warm, beautifully decorated room filled with people laughing and telling stories in the soft glow of the tree, while the silky voice of Johnny Mathis wafted through the air along with the heavenly cocktail of aromas from a well-used kitchen.
Most of the guests that night happened to identify as LGBTQ, which hadn’t really occurred to me until, as I smiled and surveyed the room, a sickening thought rudely interrupted: “Many Christians believe that these beautiful people in this room (other than my wife and me) are all going to hell. For no other reason than their gender identity or sexual orientation, every one of them is doomed to spend eternity beyond this life in perpetual torment at the hands of a God who apparently made them, put them here, and loves them passionately.”
And as a Christian and a pastor, I was supposed to believe and preach this, too. It simply no longer rang true for me. I couldn’t reconcile this with the character of an infinitely loving Creator. I lost hell right then and there.
And after that moment, I began taking note of the vast multitudes I’d also been taught were similarly condemned:
My Jewish friends from the gym.
The Muslim couple down the street from our home.
The gay couple I’d once worked for in college.
My atheist friends from high school.
My non-Born Again classmates from childhood.
Every non-Christian who ever lived.
Thousands of authors, musicians, philosophers, and thinkers have inspired me.
Gandhi, Buddha, and everyone from their faith traditions.
An estimated 69 percent of the people on the planet right now. (around 5.6 billion of them).
Lots of good human beings are in hell, and many more are on their way, at least, according to Evangelicals who seem all too happy about that fact.
Over the course of my life, I’ve met or known of so many brilliant, funny, giving, caring people, who for thousands of different reasons can’t or won’t declare themselves Christians, and the idea that God condemns them simply for that fact feels far more human than divine to me now. It seems more like the mind of people who are determined to exclude, judge, and shame. Hell doesn’t feel like the logical construction of a God who is Love, but of human beings who are hateful.
Few things get Christian leaders as excited as forecasting damnation for other people. It rallies their bases, gives them a common enemy to rail against (gays, Muslims, Atheists, Democrats, drag queens, etc.), and leverages the fear that we all have that God may be out to squash us. It’s also a big religious business, which doesn’t hurt.
And there’s a trickle-down judgmentalism that reaches the pews too, allowing ordinary, incredibly imperfect people to believe themselves safe from divine prosecution because they’ve said the magic words, and to simultaneously feel superior to those they can condemn from a distance based on any number of perceived things that disqualify them from Heaven: their sexual activity, their faith perspective, their political affiliations, their nation of origin.
Not long after this experience, I shared a social media post about being resigned to my own eternal punishment, and I received replies from all over the world; people from every walk of life, every life stage, of every religious tradition and color and orientation, who all expressed a similar sentiment:
I’ll see you there!
And that’s the recurring thought I often have now as I cross paths with people who I once believed were condemned, as well as those who confidently almost joyfully condemn them: If Heaven is supposedly filled with such petty, self-righteous, hypocrites, it doesn’t sound all that much like Heaven to me, and if so many beautiful, life-giving souls are surely bound for Hell, it seems like it’ll be one helluva time.
I received a gift at that Christmas party nearly twenty-five years ago. I found myself freed up to see people as they were: for their inherent worth and equally flawed beauty, none deserving of eternal torment, and each one like me: doing the very best that they could to be decent and loving and kind and to treat people well. I’m pretty sure God will be cool with that.
I’m well aware that many professed Christians believe that my doubts about the existence of hell all but guarantee that I’ll spend eternity there, and I’m sure that with great pride or pity, many will comment as such. But from the looks of it, I’ll be in good company in my hot-and-humid eternity, and I won’t have to look far to find diverse, loving humanity when I get there. I look forward to weeping and gnashing teeth alongside all the compassionate, creative, and open-hearted people who weren’t good enough for Evangelical afterlife, which is just as well.
The clearer the image of these people’s Heaven becomes, the less and less trepidation I have of my soul’s resting place somewhere outside of it.
Receiving their damnation actually begins to feel like dodging a bullet: I’ll be avoiding them.
To quote one of my favorite songwriters, the great Frank Turner:
And we’re definitely going to hell—but we’ll have all the best stories to tell.
Midweek Tiedrich
barely a day goes by when America’s Mad King — or a member of his royal court — doesn’t find some new way to cordially invite We the People to go fuck ourselves.
this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. not one thing any of these goniffs do makes us safer, or healthier, or more financially secure. it’s been that way since day one, and it will remain that way until every last one of these thieving bastards is finally removed from power.
what is surprising, however, is when one of these shit-sticks admits it.
which brings us to today’s Exhibit A: White House Energy Vampire Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett.
let’s watch in astonishment as Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett actually says the quiet part out loud.
“if [the war] were to be extended, it wouldn’t really disrupt the US economy very much at all. it would hurt consumers, and we’d have to think about what we’d have to do about that, but that’s really the last of our concerns right now.”
there it is — Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett gives away the whole game right there in those last few words.
helping consumers who are hurting is ‘really the last of our concerns right now.’
no fucking shit, Sherlock, we’ve noticed. everything Donny does is for the benefit of himself, and his gazillionaire cronies. are you a tech bro, or a media baron, or an oil magnate, or a crypto scammer? awesome, you get a seat a the table. try not to let the Space Nazi bother you. he’s higher than a fucking kite right now.
are you a consumer, struggling to make ends meet as the price of goods and services skyrockets? well, then fuck you. you don’t get a doll.
do you think Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett even takes notice of the price of gas? absolutely fucking not, he’s got a driver whose job it is to keep the limo’s tank full.
every time one of Donny’s dipshits opens their mouths, they practically write a Democratic campaign ad. it’s a fact that’s not lost on California Rep. Ted Lieu.
“I’m going to quote for you what the director of the National Economic Council, Kevin Hassett, said on national TV. he said that hurting consumers is, quote, the last of our concerns.’ so I want the White House to send Kevin Hassett to every single TV channel and to every single swing House district where he can tell the voters of America that hurting consumers is, quote, ‘the last of their concerns.’”
word.
by the way — have you noticed that every time Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett is on TV, rain or shine, he’s standing on the grounds in front of the White House?
I shit you not, check it out:
do you know why that is? it’s because Colin Robinson Kevin Hassett is indeed an energy vampire, and that’s the thing about vampires: you have to invite them in. otherwise, they have to remain outside. don’t ask me what that’s all about, I don’t make the rules.
Holy Mike Johnson can’t help but mumble the quiet part out loud, either.
reporter: “can you give one example of fraud in a previous election that the SAVE America Act would stop?”
Holy Mike: “look, we’re not gonna litigate all that.”
god bless the reporter who asked that question, because it really cuts to the heart of the matter: this fucked-up election-rigging SAVE Act will do nothing to prevent election fraud — because election fraud is not a problem. there is virtually no ‘election fraud’ in America. it’s a rounding error away from zero. Donny has been convicted of more felonies than there have been proven cases of ‘election fraud.’
every reporter needs to be asking every Republican the same question Holy Mike couldn’t answer.
now it’s Senate Majority Leader John Thune’s turn to say the quiet part out loud.
the SAVE Act is in the Senate now, where it seemingly has a snowball’s chance of passing — because there just aren’t 60 votes in favor of it.
the MAGAsphere is screaming at Thune right now to shitcan the filibuster, so the SAVE Act can pass— but Thune’s got a good reason for not nuking the filibuster, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.
“throughout history, it has protected Republicans and conservative priorities and principles a lot more often than it has protected Democrats.”
it’s true. Republicans have perfected the art of using the filibuster to block any legislation that would improve the lives of We the People.
isn’t that right, Glitch McConnell?
Glitch? hello, are you there?
as for Little Donny No-Filters, there’s no such thing as the quiet part.he’s just a lizard brain-stem hard-wired to a set of vocal cords that talk first and think never.
it’s taken Donny only 48 hours go from ‘someone please help me win this war’ to ‘everybody’s coming to help me win this war’ to ‘fuck you, I don’t need anyone’s help to win this war.’
Because of the fact that we have had such Military Success, we no longer “need,” or desire, the NATO Countries’ assistance — WE NEVER DID! Likewise, Japan, Australia, or South Korea. In fact, speaking as President of the United States of America, by far the Most Powerful Country Anywhere in the World, WE DO NOT NEED THE HELP OF ANYONE! Thank you for your attention to this matter. President DONALD J. TRUMP.”
that is hysterical. not one of our allies wants to bail Donny out of his disastrous Operation Epic Bed-Shit, and the sudden realization of it is causing him to him melt all the way down. he’s like a child going ballistic because he just found out he didn’t get invited to a birthday party.
YOU CAN ALL GO FUCK YOURSELVES, BECAUSE DONNY NEVER WANTED YOUR HELP IN THE FIRST PLACE.
fuck you, NATO — you don’t get a doll.
fuck you, too, Japan — no doll for you. same deal, Australia and South Korea. you all fucking suck, and nobody gets a doll.
who know who else doesn’t get a doll? Ireland.
reporter: “the Irish president has said your war against Iran is illegal and an attack on international law.”
Donny: “who said that?”
reporter: “the Irish president.”
Donny: “look, he’s lucky I exist. that’s all I can say.”
he?
Donny has no idea that the President of Ireland is a woman, Catherine Connolly.
Donny doesn’t know shit about shit — and he doesn’t care. he never does the reading, never prepares, and has the attention span of a coked-up squirrel.
he’s an embarrassment to his country — and to the entire world — every single day of his shithole presidency.
but at least the ignorant fuck wore a nice green tie on St. Patrick’s Day. so there’s that.
which bring us quite smoothly to our heroes of the day: the good people of Ballinrobe, County Mayo, Ireland, who put the Dead Pedo Bestie Files front and center during their St. Patrick’s Day parade.
fuck, yeah — let’s gif that shit for posterity’s sake.
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.
If Only…
