Category: Beating Back the St00pid

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Grandpa Sundowner Was Having A Moment…Again

From Mock Paper Scissors:

“This is an IHOP, Sir.”

According to hisself, he’s perfect:

Harry Sisson
@harryjsisson.bsky.social

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— KOJAMF🤘🖤🤘 (@kojamf.bsky.social) May 31, 2026 at 3:04 AM

(Here’s the text of his humble brag of a FOURTH DEMENTIA TEST —no link for obvious reason)

The results of my Physical Examination, taken at Walter Reed Military Medical Center, and just released, were extremely good. Unlike other U.S. Presidents, none of whom have ever
taken an approved, high difficulty, Cognitive Test, I scored a perfect 30 out of 30, considered “extreme intelligence.” Are the Dumocrats really surprised? In fact, this is my fourth such test, all PERFECT or, 120 correct answers out of 120 questions asked! It is very rare that anyone gets a Perfect Score, especially when achieved four times in a row. All people running for President and Vice President should be forced to take high difficulty Cognitive Tests. Congress, and the Dumocrats, should demand it! President DONALD J. TRUMP

Oh, really?

Trump’s Truth Social posting over the last hour or so is completely batshit insane. Get a load of this nonstop nuttery.

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— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar.com) May 30, 2026 at 2:56 PM

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Photo by omid bonyadian on Unsplash

And even in the moments when the words do come, they almost immediately feel obsolete. It’s become nearly impossible to wake up and comment on any specific human rights atrocity, any precise illegality, any single bastardization of the Christian faith, any individual act of Congressional malpractice. In the time it takes to assess one unprecedented act of governmental malfeasance, stop the spinning storm inside my head, and string together something resembling coherent thoughts, a half dozen infuriating, nauseating, heretofore nonexistent abominations will have already swallowed them up.

This is, of course, by design, yet knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to navigate.

There’s very little that comes with any surety these days. The only thing I am certain of as I watch and listen and walk through this season alongside my 342 million neighbors is that there is mourning in America.

The grief is ever-present, sitting like a boulder on our chests, crushing our hearts and rendering our breathing shallow.
A heavy dread hovers in the background of our nervous systems, leaving us continually ping-ponging between fight, flight, and freeze.
We vacillate wildly from heartbreak to outrage to hopelessness, battered by manufactured crises, curated madness, and genuine emergencies.

And that’s just the damage coming from above, from the repugnant legion of sociopaths and predators who’ve hijacked the very sacred halls that their treasonous foot soldiers desecrated on a January afternoon. In any other iteration of our nation, those helming it would at least have feigned decency, offered some ceremonial lip service of unity, and provided a modicum of care for its constituents. Those days feel like a lifetime ago.

The entirety of a President’s Cabinet and its gutless Congressional coconspirators have abandoned any allegiance to the Constitution, to morality, to the common good. They are professional parasites, voraciously sucking every bit of progress and promise from this flawed but beautiful beacon of Democracy that the world once aspired to emulate.

Bearing this alone would all be difficult enough. It would be a Herculean task to endure such prolific brutality from our alleged leadership and remain tethered to sanity.

But then we look to our left and to our right; to the people around us who are, at best, silent enablers of this violent historic farce, or, at worst, willing collaborators. We inventory the ever-expanding list of human beings we share holiday tables with, make small talk with over the fence, work, study, and worship alongside, and once felt an easy affinity with, mourning the blackened hearts we’ve come to realize they harbor.

And perhaps most devastating of all, there are the people who raised us to be human beings of empathy, who taught us to love our neighbors, who instilled us with a respect for the Rule of Law, who called us to lean upon our better angels. Over the past ten years, we have watched them abandon every ideal and precept they passed down to us, jettisoning God and Country, while continually broadcasting their supposed allegiance to both. We now find ourselves ridiculed, mocked, and demonized for becoming the very loving, open-hearted, generous humans they told us to become.

The wreckage of this relational warfare is everywhere:

In the room-clearing arguments, the protracted emotional cold wars, the social media disconnections, the text chain ghostings, the slow but now undeniable attrition of affection, the silences and empty holiday chairs. These are as heartbreaking injuries as anything this white supremacist vampire colony at the Capitol has thrown at us.

I don’t know quite what to say to those of you reading this who grieve America as we approach its 250th year, because on most days, I’m not even sure what to tell myself. I wish there were words in our lexicon that I could string together that would magically lift the burdens from your shoulders, quiet the chaos in your mind, and swiftly usher peace into the warzones of your heart. All I can do today with any honesty is to name the grief and hope that will bring some comfort. Naming it helps me.

In fact, perhaps, that shared sorrow is the connective tissue that will hold us all together as we endure this impossible to fathom or describe nightmare. Maybe, our collective tears over the America that is will water the seeds of the America we can still be.

This morning, despite the losses that seem endless, I cling to the hope that we, the multitudes who lament how far we’ve fallen as a nation, will find a way to pull us from the seemingly endless darkness we’re immersed in and into the dawn of better days.

To every American mourning, know you do not grieve alone.

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Dumb With A Capital B

From Palmer Report:

When Donald Trump announced earlier this week that his son Donald Trump Jr was getting married, he initially appeared to say that his son was “someone I’ve known a very long time.” Upon closer inspection, a mumbly and barely coherent Donald Trump actually said that his son has “got someone I’ve known a very long time.” Not much better. Trump clearly has no idea what the woman’s name is, in spite of how long he’s known her.

Somewhere in there Trump revealed that he wasn’t going to attend his son’s wedding, blaming his presidential duties. Then his babysitters reportedly booked a trip for him to his own resort in New Jersey for the weekend. So he’s got time for that, but not time to go to his son’s wedding. Or maybe he’s just not well enough to travel to the Bahamas. Given that his trip to his resort has since been canceled, who knows? Something isn’t right with him.

But the larger underlying story here may be that Donald Trump simply can’t remember anything. And not in a forgetful, aging brain, “I can’t think of the word I was about to say” senior moment kind of way. No, this is something different entirely. It’s not that Trump momentarily couldn’t remember his son’s bride’s name. It’s that he has no recollection of having ever known it. How do we know this?

When Trump tried to give a speech yesterday, he came to the word “dumb” and then stopped to announce that a lot of people don’t know that the word “dumb” has a “b” on the end of it. No really, he said this. And it wasn’t a one-off, either. Recently Trump came across the word “sea” and then stopped to announce that a lot of people don’t know the word is spelled “sea” when referring to a body of water. Before that he announced that he’d never heard the word “groceries” in his life. Before that it was “corner store” that he’d never heard of.

No one would ever describe Trump as being particularly literate. But he’s certainly seen the word “dumb” enough times in his life to know full well that it has a “b” on the end of it. He also knows full well that “see” and “sea” are pronounced the same. And he’s spent a lifetime hearing words like “groceries” and “corner store” even if he’s never done his own shopping in his life. He knows these words. Or at least he did. But not anymore.

It’s pretty clear what’s happening here. Trump’s brain is dying one area at a time from dementia, and in the process he’s losing an entire lifetime’s worth of memories and experiences. His dying brain clearly no longer has any recollection of any of the thousands of instances in which he’s seen the above words. That’s all gone. And so when Trump is seeing these basic common words now, what’s left of his brain thinks it’s seeing them for the first time. Hence why he’s so surprised to learn how some of them are spelled.

. . .

Trump is trying to deflect his own frustration and insecurity by projecting all of this onto unnamed other people out there who have no prior recollection of having ever seen the words “dumb” or “sea” in their lives. And yet this fully senile individual, who has now lost most of his lifetime’s worth of recollection, is somehow President of the United States.

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End Of The Week Tiedrich

holy shit, the unthinkable is happening: Republicans are beginning to openly revolt against Mad King Donny’s corrupt agenda.

over the past couple, Senate Repubs have served up multiple slices of Fuck You Pie to Dear Leader. they’re refusing to fund the Epstein Dance Hall — and they absolutely want no part of this business of enriching the shitheads who did January 6.

Glitch McConnell unfroze long enough to actually say “so the nation’s top law enforcement official is asking for a slush fund to pay people who assault cops? utterly stupid, morally wrong — take your pick.”

whoa.

so with all that going on, it’s good to see that the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press were focused on the real top story of the day: would Preznit Fuckwit be attending the wedding of number one failson Cokey McSniffles?

reporter: “are you attending your son’s wedding this weekend?”

Donny: “uhhhh. he’d like me to go. I’m gonna try and make it. I’m in the midst— I said, ‘you know, this is not good timing for me.’ I have a thing called Iran and other things. he’s a person I’ve known for a very long time. hopefully they’re going to have a great marriage.’”

wait, what? did Donny actually refer to his eldest son as ‘a person I’ve known for a very long time’? I mean, technically, that’s an accurate statement — but what in the hallowed name of Cognitive Collapse Jesus is going on inside this imbecile’s big dumb pumpkin head?

you know what? I’m going to include Don Jr. in my What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™.

if Junior stands up in public and asks his father ‘what the fuck is wrong with you,’ I say he gets that lifetime Pulitzer. after all, you just know he’s said it in private countless times.

how does Donny have ‘other things’ more important than a child’s wedding? any normal human parent would jump at the chance to attend that shit, but not Donny — not when there’s an entire holiday weekend full of cheating at golf in front of him.

the Trump family — going all the way back to bordello operator Frederick Drumpf — has essentially been a multi-generational experiment in ‘what would happen if a parent actively hated his children?’

well, obviously, not all his children.

but you get my point.

before we move on, can I take a moment to introduce you to America’s latest sweetheart? I’m talking about the outie belly button of the dude standing behind Donny.

look at that thing. that is fucking adorable — and check out what goes on at the 27 second mark of that clip.

go, man, go! how long before that navel is a featured speaker at CPAC? I want that thing to have its own show on Newsmax. I’d watch the shit out of it.

anyway, onto the Republican revolt. they’re fucking pissed right now at Dear Leader. the midterms are coming, and a historically-unpopular Donny is seriously dicking with their chances of hanging onto their razor-thin majorities.

voters don’t want this don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran that’s made gas unaffordable. nor do voters want some ginormous vulgar Epstein Dance Hall, with its sniper nests and what Donny calls a ‘drone empire’ on its roof. and this business of enriching the January 6th insurrectionists with taxpayer money is just too blatantly in-your-facedisgusting for words. as I said the other day, ‘there’s corruption, and then there’s holy fucking shit corruption.’

the first thing Republican Senators did yesterday was call Donny’s personal rent-a-lawyer Todd Blanche into their chambers, where they used him as a chew toy for almost two solid hours.

News — Nearly 2-hour meeting with Acting AG Todd Blanche and Senate Republicans was incredibly hostile, per multiple attendees. As many as 25 GOP senators spoke (this is very rare for these meetings), all in opposition to weaponization fund. R’s pitched specific ideas such as dictating how the 5 commissioners are chosen & not allowing people convicted of violence against cops to be eligible for a payout.

the thing about Todd Blanche is that everyone fucking hates him, because he’s a sleazy little shitweasel. ask Todd what two plus two is, and he’ll dance around and prevaricate for half an hour without ever answering the question.

here’s the indispensable Heather Cox Richardson to explain what happened next.

In the end, Republicans were so angry about the slush fund and immunity agreement that Senate leadership decided not to try to pass $72 billion of funding for immigration agencies, left out of an earlier funding package, out of fear Democrats would force Republicans to vote on the slush fund.

Even before they decided to avoid the vote, Republicans had dropped from the measure the $1 billion Trump wants for security for his ballroom.

so, no money for masked ICE thugs, no money for the heavily-militarized Epstein Dance Hall — oh, and a few days ago four Republicans broke ranks and voted with the Dems to finally send that Iran war powers resolution to the House. (where Holy Mike had yank it at the last minute from a scheduled vote because it was certain to pass there, too.)

you love to see the GOP and Donny at war with each other — bring it the fuck on! — but let’s not get too happy. after all, these are Republicans we’re talking about. at the end of the day, they still fucking suck. they love to talk big, but they could still TACO out and end up doing a Reverse Lucy: swear they’re going to yank the football away, and then end up holding it down for Dear Leader to kick a mile.

it wouldn’t be the first time.

oh, and fuck Senator Glitchy McTurtlehump and all his ‘I do declare it’s morally wrong’ outrage. dude could have put an end to this shit five years ago, by whipping up enough votes to convict Donny when he got impeached for doing January 6 in the first place. but Glitch wimped out, and here we are, trapped in the timeline he created. get back in your terrarium, Turtle Man.

and, of course, we still have the entire Moron Wing of the Republican Party to deal with.

here’s one dumbfuck who’s totally down with the idea of doling out millions to traitors, because he thinks the whole January 6 thing was staged.

South Carolina Rep. Ralph: “look, January 6th is an issue that was made up in the first place.”

reporter: “made up, sir?”

Norman: “that was a staged thing from day one … there was a riot there but it was a self-made riot by members who hate Trump.”

fact check: fuck off, Ralph.

Rep Norman has forced himself to chug an entire tanker truck full of Kool-Aid. his current premise is that Capitol Cops allowed people who hate Trump to fake a riot — but he sung a very different tune back on the day that it happened.

‘the riots were fake’ is a conspiracy theory that doesn’t make one lick of sense — because riddle me this: if the rioters were all Democrats who ‘hate Trump,’ then why the fuck does Ralph Norman want to give each of them millions of dollars?

the cognitive dissonance, it burns.

before we get out of here, let’s circle back to Dear Leader. apparently there’s one more thing he simply must get off his chest.

“my most exciting is the Reflecting Pool between the Washington Monument and the— uhhhhhhhhhhh, the— the— Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, it’s uh— [gestures with his hands] two hundred— two thousand, five hundred feet long by almost two hundred feet wide. it’s a massive— structure, if you think of it. it’s taller than the tallest building in the world.”

that’s right, folks. the refurbished Epstein Reflecting Poll — which I guess I need to point out is flat and at ground level — is taller than the tallest building in the word. he’s so fucking dumb.

he’s also wrong.

The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is about 2,029 feet long, not “2,500 feet long.” Also the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa, is about 2,717 feet tall.

this weak and insecure halfwit is such a bottomless pit of need that he has to exaggerate the size of a pool he didn’t even build.

but what else is new?

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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Is He Making This [Shit] Up As He Goes Along? “Obviously.”

From Greg Fallis;

As you almost certainly know, Comrade Trump was recently asked how much thought he was giving to the financial situation of Americans in his negotiations with Iran. His answer:

“Not even a little bit. The only thing that matters when I’m talking about Iran—they can’t have a nuclear weapon. I don’t think about Americans’ financial situation. I don’t think about anybody. I think about one thing—we cannot let Iran have a nuclear weapon. That’s all.”

For the moment, let’s just ignore the fact that Iran has NO nuclear weapons and currently lacks the capacity to create them. Let’s just focus on that statement and the reaction to it. Obviously, a LOT of US citizens were offended and angered by it. But what about Trump’s base? Specifically, let’s see what the Trump-loving ‘patriots’ at FreeRepublic had to say about it.

You may be surprised (well, I was surprised) to find Freepers were almost evenly divided about Trump’s comments (and his ‘excursion’ in Iran in general). I expected the majority to be maximally Trump-brained, and some most certainly were.

You can always count on CBS to slice out a piece of a Trump statement to make it sound as bad as possible. Keeping the nukes out is well worth the price but the Trump haters have no vision beyond that hatred.
by gibsonguy

Nothing would destroy the USA financial well-being like an Iranian nuke going off in a major city.
by ProtectOurFreedom

America first means doing what it takes to remove the Iran nuclear threat. How is this so hard to understand? I would gladly pay $7 at the pump if that’s what it takes.
by Kleon

Why aren’t Liberals mad at Iran for the high gas prices and general disorder in the mid east?
by Az Joe

As the leader of the free world you need to lead by example and through the strength that you possess to do the right thing and stand up for other democracies… Israel is the only Democratic country in the Middle East. By standing with them you instill discipline within the world community, and establish your credentials as the leader of the free world. Imagine if you will, letting Israel flounder and allowing it to be nuked by Iran… That would be a terrible example and other countries would start losing respect for America. The United States must lead… Sitting on your arse is not an option.
by jerod

Terrorist muslims bent on death to America with a nuclear weapon is the GREATEST threat to our national security that I can think of.
Trump is not doing this because he wants to but because he cares more about America than those who preceded him office and likely cares more than those who will likely succeed him.
by Biblebelter

That’s pretty much what I was expecting to find. But hold on to your keffiyehs, friends, because a surprising number of Freepers are angry and disgusted with Trump and his war against Iran. Who’d a thunk it?

I watched that video and proves Trump is out of touch with the average American but he is more worried about his Stock Market pals… He will pay a steep price for being out of touch. Wonder what happened to America First!
by dpetty121263

Americans who don’t watch CBS, who voted for Trump, are also economically hurting right now.
by CondoleezzaProtege

If Trump is dead set with Iran not having nuclear weapons then he needs to put troops on the ground instead of doing it all by air right now. He also would not be negotiating.
He is making things worse by negotiating. This is his screw up. The economy is going to crap. Republicans will lose big. Either pull out or go all the way in.
Obiviously he is making it up as he is going along and this adventure was poorly planned.
by moviefan8

Tucker says Iran is no where close to having a nuke. Tucker has intelligence that is so much better than Trump’s. Trump just wanted to go to war because, well because, er well…cause Epstein.
by Sir Bangaz Cracka

What most likely happened was Trump believed he was going to replay his grand Venezuelan victory out in Tehran. It blew up in his face, and now we all have to pretend that we were going to get incinerated at any moment if Trump had not blundered into this stupid war
by hcmama

There you are. Trump, being Trump, naturally had to double down on his comment. When asked about it after his return from China, he said, “It’s a perfect statement. I’ll make it again. Everybody agrees.”

President Xi Jinping and…you know, that guy.
He’s right, sort of. Almost everybody does agree–that Trump doesn’t know what the hell is going on, isn’t capable of understanding what’s going on even if he knew, and doesn’t have a plan to deal with what’s going on. Obiviously (which is probably how Trump pronounces it).

ENDNOTE: Just to be clear, at present Iran has neither the material nor the capacity to make any nuclear weapons. The CIA has confirmed it would take at least one year to create a nuclear weapon IF they had the technologies necessary to produce enough fissile material and to design and implement a delivery system with a proper detonation system. And they don’t have that. Obiviously.

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How. Much. Longer?!

Just push the damn button already, and put us out of this never-ending misery!

as another stupid week comes to a close here in America, let’s look back at the dumbest fucking shit that happened.

monday: Biggus Dickus has a wife, you know

where the fuck does Donny find these people?

CNN’s KFILE reveals the man leading the hantavirus response in the U.S. is a specialist in penile implants with little public health experience and hosted a podcast called “Erection Connection.”

wait, what? I understand what all of those words mean, but when you put them together in that order, I’m mystified.

so you’re telling me that the guy Dear Leader picked to deal with a potential hantavirus crisis is a crackpot who doesn’t believe in vaccinesand has no fucking clue how to handle a public health emergency — but if you need a homey to biggify your pantsmonster, he’s your man?

Uncle Tim Walz was right, these people are all weirdos — and not just weirdos, but dick-obsessed weirdos.

need proof? let’s start with Donny’s former Acting Attorney General and current US Representative to NATO. dude sold toilets specially engineered for super-endowed bros who were tired of having their massive wieners go plunking in the water when they sat down to do their business.

then there’s Dear Leader himself, who can’t stop waxing rhapsodic about the enormity of Arnold Palmer’s 9-iron.

Lady Space Laser was absolutely smitten with Hunter Biden’s freakishly ginormous trouser trout.

don’t even get me started on six-time international lap-hockey champion Handy Oakley.

and if you want to get penis-adjacent, there’s always roasted ball-sack aficionado Tucker Swanson McNear Carlson, who believes that microwaving the family jewels is the True Way Forward.

these freaks and oddballs need to all get a grip. no, wait — what am I saying?

MAGA, when it comes to your weens, don’t get a grip. keep your fucking hands where I can see them.

tuesday: just a perfectly normal dude, doing perfectly normal stuff

the morbidly wealthy, they’re so relatable, am I right?

the Space Nazi was part of the gaggle of gazillionaires who accompanied Donny to China this week, and — well, who among us hasn’t been at a state dinner at the exact moment the ketamine kicks in?

what the fuck was that? we need to gif that shit, pronto.

now, I’ve never experienced the wonders of ketamine, so can someone please tell me — does it affect your gait?


why does the Space Nazi jerk his right arm like that? what the fuck is he staring at up on the ceiling?

again, another prime giffable moment.

if I had a trillion dollars, I’d def hire someone to give me walking lessons.

I’ll say this about the Chinese — at least they had the good sense to keep the silverware out of harm’s way.

wednesday: shut the fuck up

stand back, everyone. Fox News found object Jesse Watters has been doing his own research.

“I did some research on ‘the blacks.’ blacks, for 150 years, have only represented 10% to 15% of the American population. okay? that’s not that much. so if they wanna have more seats, they gotta get in between the sheets.”

how awesome. in one short soundbite, Jesse manages to be racist, paternalistic, condescending and crude. he’s won the Fucknut Quadfecta.

Republicans have spent the last two weeks working overtime to disenfranchise black voters by gerrymandering their districts out of existence — and this is the smirking buffoon’s sage advice? to get busy fuckin’?

they say that a gif is worth a thousand words, so here you go, Jesse, this one’s for you.

thursday: verily, she doth spew bullshit unto you

oh look, it’s transdimensional-traveler-obsessed goofus and noted biblical scholar An Appalling Lunatic, here to give us an extremely fucked-up lesson in religion.

Anna Paulina Luna: “and so it’s interesting because you have, you know, the evolution of the King James Bible, as we all know that story. he wanted to get remarried, they re-wrote it. it’s what happened.”

Representative Lunatic is so fucking dumb, and all simpering meathead Joe Rogan can do is sit there with a stupid grin on his face and go ‘right,’ because he’s as big an ignoramus as Appalling Ann.

King James didn’t want to get remarried. that’s not what the King James Version of the Bible is all about. the British king who wanted to get remarried was Henry VIII, the jamoke famous for prancing about with a haunch of meat in each fist.

and Eighth Hank didn’t rewrite any Bible. what he did was he form the Church of England and put himself in charge of it, so he could get busy offing an endless series of spouses. remember, the merry fucking wives of Windsor?

(don’t even ask me what this is all about. I googled ‘merry wives of windsor gif’ and google gave me Batman. hey, everyone — I’m as good as doing my own research as Jesse Watters!)

but I digress. here’s my point:

it must be nice to be a wingnut and go on podcasts like Meathead Rogan’s and just be eternally wrong from dawn until dusk — because none of these shitwits knows dick about anything, and no one ever corrects you.

it’s a fucking oroboros of stupid.

oh look, you actually get something useful if you google ‘oroboros gif.’

friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™

on Friday, some fucking idiot made exactly two public appearances. the first was when he deigned to talk to reporters aboard Fuckface Force One as it flew home from Beijing.

math, how does it even work?

what is the fucking idiot even saying? it’s just meaningless gibberish.

oh, and speaking of gibberish—

the fucking idiot is so monumentally stupid. someone told him that Dem candidate James Talerico identifies as ‘cisgender’ and the fucking idiot heard it as ‘six genders,’ and now he repeats it all day long.

and no press appearance would be complete without the fucking idiot accusing a reporter of treason.

the fucking idiot’s second appearance was in a pre-taped interview with Bret Baier, where he threw yet another of our close allies under the bus.

how wonderful. the fucking idiot has one meeting in China, where he’s too dumb to realize he’s being disrespected by Xi — and now, all of a sudden, Taiwan needs to ‘cool it a little bit.’

he’s such an easily-played moron.

then, to top it all off, the fucking idiot doubled down on his dumb-ass statement that he ‘doesn’t think about Americans’ financial situation.’

yeah, keep on reminding voters that you couldn’t give less of a shit about them. let’s see how that works out for you in the midterms.

and, despite all the dumbfuckery going on right in front of their faces, neither Bret Baier nor any of the reporters aboard Fuckface Force One stood up to ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

how fucking idiotic is that?

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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Why Do They All Look Like Blow-up Dolls?

So. Many. Daddy. Issues.

he striking thing about the Donnyverse is how everyone in it totally fucking sucks.

at the top, you’ve got evil shit-kazoos like the piss-drunk Christofascist warmonger, the whale-head-chainsawing maniac who swims in raw sewage, and of course, the One Stinky Diaperload to Rule Them All.

but wait, there’s more: orbiting these fascist fucknuts are hundreds of fanatical cultists who will do anything to please Dear Leader.

here’s one of them. folks, I want you to meet Natalie Harp.

you know those infantile, fucked-up memes that will show up by the dozenson Donny’s crappy app in the middle of the night? that’s the creepy hand of Natalie Harp at work.

Most nights, the president fires off dozens of posts attacking his political enemies, amplifying conspiracy theories, spreading AI-slop videos and images, and boosting offensive content from obscure MAGA accounts on X and his own Truth Social platform.

But despite the odd hours, Trump isn’t doing it all alone, according to a new report in the Wall Street Journal.

His executive assistant Natalie Harp is the driving force behind some of his most incendiary content, including a racist video that depicted Barack and Michelle Obama as apes, and an AI-generated image of Trump as Jesus Christ, both of which Trump later took down.

that’s right, all those racist and misogynistic memes, all the Q-Anon batshit, all the Donny-as-Jesus AI slop — it’s Natalie who finds that twaddle and shows it to the big guy, because that’s her job: to keep Dear Leader stupid and happy.

Harp’s official title is Executive Assistant, but her unofficial title is The Human Printer, because she walks around — I shit you not — with a wireless printer, which she’ll use at a moment’s notice to show Donny all the dumb-ass shit she’s found on the internet.

any time Dear Leader is sundowning, or rage-spiraling, or just drooling uncontrollably while staring off into to space, it’s Natalie who hands him a printout of Barack the Ape, at which point Donny goes ‘hrr hrr hrr’ and his mood brightens. he finds that shit hilarious, and it calms him down.

once again, it’s just so eternally embarrassing. can you think of any other country on the planet whose leader is such a colicky toddler that they need to be rage-managed with internet-sourced dumbfuckery?

no, of course you can’t. only in America. we’re number one — when it comes to certifiably insane heads of state.

where does Donny find these people? well in, Natalie’s case, she’s been by Dear Leader’s side for years — ever since 2019, when he saw her on Fox News (because of course he did), where she was making a speech in which she claimed Donny cured her cancer.

it’s at this point that I should probably mention that Natalie Harp is every bit as bugfuck nuts as Donny is.

I did warn you that everyone in the Donnyverse totally fucking sucks.

Harp flew under our radar for years, but back in April 2024, when Donny was on trial for being a fraudulent fuck-knuckle, reporters noticed a woman — toting that famous portable printer — who was following him around.

that, my friends, was our first introduction to Natalie Harp.

Her name is Natalie Harp, a former One America News anchor who joined Trump’s communications team in March 2022. According to reporting that year by the Washington Post, Harp would even accompany the former reality TV host on golf trips in a cart “equipped with a laptop and sometimes a printer to show him uplifting news articles, online posts, or other materials.”

oh my god, she even follows Donny around the golf course — in her own specially-outfitted happy-printout cart.

so, that’s a perfectly normal thing, right? seriously, how fucking broken-inside do you have to be to require that kind of nonstop positive affirmation? this big, strong woman, tears in her eyes, actually travels with Donny while he’s cheating at golf, and goes ‘sir! sir! look at the nice thing catturd said about you on twitter! sir!’

Donny’s handlers are royally pissed off at Harp right now, because she’s fucking up their shit. her job may be to mollify Dear Leader, but theirjob is to hide his crazypants dementia from the world — and that’s a thing that gets harder and harder to do when she’s out here helping Donny to post fifty or more batshit memes in the middle of the night. oh, did I mention that Donny’s given her access to his Truth Social login? perfectly normal stuff.

the only thing all that late-night crazypants posting accomplishes is to remind the entire world that Donny is an out-of-control lunatic with no filters — but Natalie’s brain is too MAGA-pickled to realize she’s doing him no favors.

it also doesn’t help that Harp is apparently just as racist as Donny — nor does it help when half the shit she shows him can be traced by to Nazi accounts on twitter.

Donny’s inner circle has been begging Natalie to at least run this stuff by them before she and Donny put it all online, but she’s all ‘nuh-uh, I can do whatever I want, because Donny says I’m special.’

The frustration lies partly in the perceived chain of command: Harp does not share her drafts with anyone else in the White House but the president, claiming that she works for him and only him, reported the Journal.

Donny’s minders want this woman outta here, but don’t expect Dear Leader to shitcan her any time soon, because — trigger warning: be prepared to be nauseated.

Mr. Trump has dismissed concerns about Ms. Harp, whom he calls “sweetie” and treats like a daughter, according to people close to him.

first of all, ew.

and second of all, ewwwwwww.

does ‘treats like a daughter’ mean that Donny wants to quote-unquote ‘date’her — if that’s what we’re charitably calling it — and is constantly trying to grope her?

now get ready to crank the ‘ewww’ dial so far past 11 that it snaps off in your hand — because honestly, Natalie sounds like a creepy fucking stalker.

In 2023, Ms. Harp sent a series of letters to Mr. Trump that unnerved people around him, according to a half-dozen people with knowledge of them.

“You are all that matters to me,” she wrote in one of the letters, which were seen by The New York Times. The letters’ authenticity was confirmed by two people with direct knowledge of them.

“I don’t ever want to let you down,” Ms. Harp wrote, thanking Mr. Trump for being her “Guardian and Protector in this Life.”

In another letter, she told Mr. Trump that she wanted to get back to “that synergy” she used to have with him, where “we’d talk about everything and nothing.”

“I want to bring you joy,” she wrote, “to feel like we can get through a day without ever having to talk ‘work.’”

what. in the. actual. fuck. no wonder Donny’s handlers want her gone. how many red flags did you find in that excerpt? if someone wrote letters like that to you, you’d be taking out a restraining order, not giving them a job.

Natalie Harp is just as fucking nuts as Donny, and she’s making him look every bit as deranged as he actually is. none of this helps Donny one bit.so why does he keep allowing this to happen? because she reminds him of Ivanka.

ew.

as I sit here writing this, Donny is aboard Fuckface Force One, jetting back home to America after a two-day visit to Beijing that accomplished exactly jack shit — but at least Donny did get to embarrass himself in front of the world, so there’s that.

“just as many Chinese now love— basketball and blue jeans. Chinese restaurants in America today outnumber the five largest fast food chains— in the United States, all combined. that’s a pretty big state.”

who wrote this drek, Natalie Harp?

Donny really is the Ugliest American. he knows nothing about the world. he knows nothing about foreign cultures — and he doesn’t want to know.

Donny’s bragging because we eat a lot of beef chow mein here in the US. so fucking what?

Donny’s impressed because the Chinese like baseball and jeans? what is this, 1983? China is eating our lunch, and leading the world in things like electric cars and renewable energy. China is so far ahead of us in the health and technology sectors that it isn’t funny — but do prattle on about food, Donny. way to focus on what’s important, you ginormous doughy pantload.

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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A few days ago, I opened my Threads feed and was greeted by the post of a young woman, featuring a couple of resolute carseat selfies, along with the caption:

 

I AM….. PRO ICE PRO Military Pro Law Enforcement Pro Trump Pro Charlie Kirk Pro Voter ID Pro Accountability [sic]

Immediately below that post was another, absolutely identical to the first, except for a different account handle.

I continued to refresh my feed, greeted again and again by the same image, the same quote, yet from different accounts. (I’m currently at 26 and counting, by the way.)

Scrolling through my timeline, this morning alone, I encountered, not only five more greetings from my now ubiquitous brunette, shapeshifting female MAGA warrior, but at least four other different versions featuring other white women, supposedly also declaring their love for their Predator-In-Chief, his barbaric ICE foot soldiers, and MAGA’s anti-immigrant, anti-Black, Anti-Democracy agenda.

A cursory glance at my newsfeed, and no one would blame you for thinking a massive number of young white women are inexplicably assembling around a court-adjudicated rapist and likely serial predator, whose misogynist regime is trying to take away women’s body autonomy and voting rights.

And it’s all a mirage, just like everything about this President, his Administration, and their barbaric, yet rapidly shrinking white supremacist movement, but it’s an exhausting mirage.

Being gaslit will wear you the hell out, which of course, is the plan.

I think we all need to collect ourselves and understand what’s really happening here.

We need to inventory the emotional and mental toll of being inundated throughout our waking moments with an endless stream of gaslighting nonsense, Right-Wing propaganda, bot proliferation, and Conservative algorithm manipulation.

It’s critical that we don’t allow ourselves to be defeated by an alarming, terrifying, and infuriating fiction. We are not outnumbered.

Donald Trump’s current approval rating is hovering between 28 and 36 percent, depending on the source, and his support is never going to rise from here. This is his absolute ceiling.

His covering up of the Epstein Files, the lawlessness of ICE’s domestic terrorism, his starting of an unnecessary, sickeningly expensive war with Iran, stratospheric gas prices, and a cratering economy that has been in a tailspin ever since his disastrous tariffs began—these are mortal wounds to Trump and his party, and they know it.

Republicans have known since 2024 that the window was going to be incredibly short; that their policies have been wildly unpopular, their base has been dwindling, and that their quickly-collapsing, cognitively-addled, lame duck wanna be dictator has been steadily losing his capacity to bulldoze criticism and manipulate reality.

Trump’s broken campaign promises regarding transparency around Epstein, his vow to end wars, his asinine boasts to bring gas and food prices down, his wasteful ballrooms and national mall desecrations are not playing well with the former faithful who can barely keep the lights on or put food on the table.

The MAGA arrow is pointing down and nothing can prevent that.

Friends, what this all means is that we are the majority and it ain’t even close.

Well over two-thirds of this nation despise this Christo-fascist regime, their assaults on black and brown people, their endless persecution of the LGBTQ community, their attacks on the free speech and the Arts and diversity.

A massive portion of America is disgusted with their coddling of the wealthiest one percent, their pillaging of the Public School System, their poisoning of Health and Human Services, their polluting of the CDC, and their absolute refusal to address affordable healthcare or housing.

We have the numbers. All we need to do is start acting like the majority.

If we can all transcend our wars of preference, our purity politics, and our relatively superficial differences, we can defeat this minority movement. If we wield our collective power and unify our voice in November, it won’t matter how much they gerrymander, how difficult they make it to vote, or the violence they resort to in order to try and intimidate us.

The United States isn’t in hopeless peril; we’ve all just been fooled into believing the myth of our impending doom curated and amplified by those who have nothing else but lies, spin, fake followers, and paid rally crowds.

Donald Trump’s entire life, his supposed success as a businessman, and his disastrous presidencies have been fool’s gold; the smoke and mirror illusions of disinformation and media malpractice.

Beneath the partisan propaganda and the prolific gaslighting, MAGA is in its last days. It is a crumbling, self-devouring, rapidly evaporating niche movement of a small percentage of this nation who are being swallowed up by time and progress.

Don’t be disheartened by your newsfeed or distracted by the bombast of the propagandists.

The vast majority is anti-MAGA, anti-Trump, and pro-Democracy.

Let’s act like we know.

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Quelle Suprise!

hey, folks? I’m not sure how to break this to you, but it’s looking more and more like the guy who lied about bone spurs and lied about hush money and lied about his dead pedo bestie and lied about how tariffs work and lied about being able to point to a camel and lied about his weight and lied about his golf scores and lied about his wealth and lied about a hurricane and lied about a pandemic and lied about his taxes and lied about a million other things has been lying to us about just how swimmingly his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran is going.

oh, and his piss-drunk Secretary of Death? the shouty one with all the Christofascist tattoos, who gets off on bombing schoolgirls? he’s been lying, too.

I know, right?

remember all that blather from Preznit Fuckwit about how Iran’s military has been smithereened to death and how they have no navy and can’t fight, and how the whole country is on the verge of complete collapse, and how Iran has no choice but to open up that Strait of Epstein, like, any minute now?

yeah, well guess fucking what.

that’s right, the Washington Post got its hands on a leaked CIA report that basically contradicts every word that’s seeped out of Dear Leader’s rancid anus-mouth.

The analysis by the U.S. intelligence community, whose secret assessments on Iran have often been more sober than the administration’s public statements, also found that Tehran retains significant ballistic missile capabilities despite weeks of intense U.S. and Israeli bombardment, three of the people familiar with it said.

oh, so not totally obliterated, then.

Donny has been presenting us with a version of his merry little war that bears absolutely no resemblance to reality.

either Donny’s been lying to us, or someone like Piss-Drunk Pete has been lying to Donny — or, more likely, everyone is lying to everyone, because that’s all these shit-kazoos do all day long, tell one lie after another like it’s going out of style.

remember how Donny keeps telling us he holds all the cards? he never shuts the fuck up about holding all the cards, because like any toddler who’s been dropped on its head, Donny thinks a stupid joke gets funnier the more often he repeats it.

well, it looks like Iran still has about three quarters of their cards.

Iran retains about 75% of its prewar inventories of mobile launchers and about 70% of its prewar stockpiles of missiles. There is evidence that the regime has been able to recover and reopen almost all of its underground storage facilities, repair some damaged missiles, and even assemble some new missiles that were nearly complete when the war began.

basically Donny isn’t even anywhere close to winning this war, because Iran still retains most of its weapons stockpile, and is rebuilding its military infrastructure faster than Donny can blow it up.

Iran is laughing at Donny, as they eat his lunch.

how is that any kind of victory? look at that, even Obama can’t figure it out — and he’s a smart dude. he went to Harvard and everything.

now take that story, and add to it the one we got the other day, about how “Iranian airstrikes have damaged or destroyed at least 228 structures or pieces of equipment at U.S. military sites across the Middle East since the war began,” to the point where some bases have had to move their staff elsewhere.

it’s just one ginormous shitpile of lies.

this is why I go fucking ballistic when I see a newspaper headline that begins with ‘Donny says…’ — because Donny says a lot of shit, and almost none of it is true.

telling us that ‘Donny says he’s winning’ without also noting that his claim is without evidence is not reporting, it’s worthless scribbling.

it fact, it’s worse than worthless. it’s outright dangerous, because a democracy cannot survive without a fully-informed populace.

so anyway, there we were, minding our own business yesterday afternoon, when out of the clear blue, The New York Times informed us that a possible deal to end the war and reopen the Strait was imminent.

after all, it’s nearly the end of the week, and those markets aren’t going to manipulate themselves.

but then like 30 seconds later,

The U.S. military said it struck Iranian military facilities and other targets after, it said, Iran fired on U.S. warships in the Strait of Hormuz.

what the fuck is going on in the Middle East? ‘exchanging fire’ doesn’t sound very ‘truce-y’ to me — and it didn’t sound very truce-y to a reporter who caught up with Donny later in the day.

reporter: “after these strikes is the ceasefire with Iran still on?”

Donny: “yeah, it is.”

the ceasefire is still on, because words stopped having meanings in the Donnyverse years ago. I’m so old, I remember when a ‘ceasefire’meant that all parties ‘ceased firing.’

Donny: “they trifled with us today. we blew ’em away. they trifled. I call that a trifle. I’ll let you know when there’s no cease— you won’t have to know. if there’s no cease fire, you’re not going to have to know, you’re just going to have to look at one big glow coming out of Iran. and they better sign their agreement fast.”

excuse me, a big fucking glow? did Donny just threaten to nuke Iran? he did, didn’t he?

what the fuck is wrong with this maniac?

this is all so incoherent. one minute we’re told that a deal is imminent — and then the next minute, missiles are flying everywhere. could everyone please stop getting shot?

and then to top it off, here comes Donny, and he’s all ‘Iran’s gonna be glowing. get it? get it?’

I know that Donny imagines this makes him sound like the ultimate tough guy, but it doesn’t. he just sounds weak and stupid, and his threats accomplish nothing. every time the fucking idiot says something like this, Iran just gets up and walks away from the negotiating table. it’s how they’ve reacted to every one of Donny’s infantile threats — and Donny would understand that by now, if the demented imbecile had any capacity to learn.

has anyone checked the prediction markets? I’ll bet there’s someone out there who’s going to make a total killing on any nuclear conflagration.

we def need a palate cleanse after all that. I don’t know who created this image, but they just won the entire internet.

meanwhile, good news, everyone! we’re all going to die of hantavirus.

reporter: “can I ask you about the hantavirus? have you been briefed on the virus?”

Donny: “yes, I have.”

reporter: “can you tell us what you’ve learned in these briefings?”

Donny: “well, I think you’re going to be told everything, and you already have. uhhhh, it’s very much, we hope under control. it was the— ship. and I think we’re gonna make a full report about it tomorrow. we have— a lotta people. it’s a lotta great people, are studying it. it should be— fine. we hope.”

reporter: “are you concerned it’s going to spread?”

Donny: “I hope not, I mean I hope not.”

oh joy, Donny hopes not. rest easy, everyone — the guy who tried to wishful-think a pandemic out of existence six years ago is on the case.

Donny’s got a ‘lotta great people’ who are ‘studying it.’ big, strong, teary-eyed virologists, who are definitely in the room with us right now.

why does hearing this from Donny this fill me with zero confidence?

I don’t know about you, but I’m so glad that I have boxes and boxes of masks and gloves left over from the covid era.

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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We’re all getting contact insanity from proximity to this violent, kleptocratic Administration.

There is no way for otherwise mentally well, emotionally stable human beings to exist in this kind of prolonged lunacy and extended predation without being internally altered, without losing some sense of normalcy, without developing a persistent PTSD that will likely never leave.

It’s understandable. We are all sharing our home with an unhinged cadre of miserable doomsday cult squatters who will not rest until everyone around them is as nihilistic and devoid of joy as they are.

The toxic cocktail of boundless hatred, prolific malfeasance, and breathtaking incompetence that they continually day drink from spills over into the lives of those of us who still wake up every morning just hoping to do our work, care for our families, help people, and enjoy human existence without having to contend with full-blown Armageddon.

No event comes without chaos, no day arrives free from existential catastrophe, no consequential moment is not leveraged to divide. For the last ten years, everything has been a fraud, a grift, a con, or a weapon, manufactured and stewarded by a collection of broken people who’ve found affinity in their greed, narcissism, and refusal to do the work of self-examination.

Combine this carefully curated chaos with incessant attacks on the media, dubious dissemination of information following emergencies, and never-clear investigatory procedures in their aftermath, and every single moment of crisis is made exponentially worse.

This week has been no exception.

Within nanoseconds of a shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, hundreds of MAGA influencers, Right-Wing talk show hosts, and Republican politicians began saturation bombing social media with a single message:

This is why we need Trump’s ballroom.

Uh, what?

Conservative influencers were still livestreaming from the site of an alleged assassination attempt on the President and Cabinet, in a monumental breach of what should be the absolute tightest of safety protocols—and the wave of propaganda and disinformation flooded our newsfeeds.

Not gratitude for the incident ending without death.
Not concerns for the safety and well-being of hundreds of people.
Not efforts to bring clarity to the bedlam of yet another supposed targeting of a President.

Such things would be the hallmarks of a collective not addled by cultic tribalism and possessing working empathy. They would have defined any other Administration in this nation’s history.

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In the wake of the WHCD, as in every other time of national unease, what we get from Trump, from his soulless surrogates, and his wish-they-were-bots-but-sadly-they’re-actual people, is nonsense and buffoonery.

Instead of factual information, calm-headed discourse, and calls for unity, we get a coordinated virtual building campaign for another bloated, opulent, gold-plated monument to a cognitively-addled felon-rapist, who is rapidly losing his battle with time and gravity and wants to desecrate everything he can with his likeness before departing.

Trump’s cultivated mass delusion has permanently damaged tens of millions of people around us who quite likely would have been reasonable right now if not for having developed Stockholm syndrome and becoming emotionally tethered to their greatest abuser. Their identities and destinies are now inextricably bound to his.

And my friends, that leaves the rest of us; the sleep-deprived, heartbroken, rightfully furious human beings to try and hold onto our right minds while being immersed in the insane, the profane, and the cruel, by people who have nothing else to offer.

And our individual and collective sanity is non-negotiable if we are to withstand this steady onslaught of chaos, be effective in reversing our political realities, and course correct from the greatest error in our nation’s history.

Resist the pull of their nonsensical rage bait, do your best to avoid being distracted by their incendiary bombast, and do not be drawn into debate with people who have abandoned sense and benevolence.

Find times of rest and clarity, taking refuge in stillness and solitude.
Care for your physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional health.
Create beautiful things, cultivate gratitude, and fight like hell to stay joyful.
Immerse yourself in meaningful community with your like-hearted neighbors.
Partner in the redemptive, neighbor-loving work happening where you are.

And above all, refuse to let your mind descend into the spinning maelstrom of madness that has swallowed so many around us. We can’t afford to lose our heads or our souls right now.

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I Just Can’t Any More. I Am SO Tired Of The Constant Lies Pouring From His Anus Mouth, His Accordion Hands, And Most Of All I Am Tired Of The Republicans Inability To Remove Him From Office

hey, remember that fucked-up morning back in October when we all woke up to find that demolition crews were already hard at work smashing the shit out of the White House’s stately and historic East Wing?

remember how outraged we were?

calm the frig down, we were told. don’t get all knicker-twisted. Dear Leader is going to put up a big, beautiful Epstein Dance Hall in its place. it’s going to be amazing. oh, and here’s the beauty part: it ain’t gonna cost you taxpayers one penny. Donny and all his billionaire besties are going to completely foot the bill, because their hearts are enormous and they love America to pieces.

yeah, well guess what. the bill for this dance hall just came due, in the form of the GOP’s budget reconciliation legislation — and We the People are on the hook for a billion fucking dollars.

what in the hallowed name of Bait-and-Switch Jesus is this fuckery? when did this ‘gift to America from Donny and his morbidly wealthy homies’ become a billion dollar taxpayer-funded boondoggle?

it’s not like there isn’t an extensive public record of Donny running his fat yap about how he was going to personally pick up the tab for this abomination.

check this out: CNN actually committed a journalism and put together a montage of Donny promising over and over that his fugly Epstein Dance Hall wasn’t going to cost a single taxpayer dime.

“and I’m paying for it. I’m paying for it.”
“we’re donating a four hundred million dollar ballroom.”
“myself and donors are giving them, free of charge, for nothing.”
“we did it, we said no charge to the taxpayer whatsoever.”
“rich people and people are putting up the money. zero taxpayer dollars.”
“it’ll cost two hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“it’s about three hundred million.”
“it’s approximately four hundred million.”

don’t you just love how the price keeps spiraling? two-fifty mil. three hundred. no, four hundred. last week it was six hundred million.

and now, a billion. why? is the accursed thing going to be made out of solid gold?

let’s back up a second, because I have a question. Donny claims to have already raised three hundred mil from his oligarch buds.

Trump has said that the administration has raised about $300 million for the project.

tell me, please, because I really want to know: where the fuck is thatmoney? did it get up and walk away? is it now in one of Donny’s bank accounts?

WHERE’S THE FUCKING MONEY?

this fugly, unnecessary dance hall is such a perfect encapsulation of America in the year 2026.

nobody asked for this. nobody said ‘hey let’s take the stately and historic East Wing and smash it to rubble so some piss-baby narcissist can build some ginormous monument to his own ego.’ no, this vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ is being inflicted on us by a serial predator who isn’t big on consent.

think of how many teacher’s salaries a billion dollars could pay for. think of all the school supplies a billion dollars could buy.

did you know that at the start of every school year, teachers have to crowdfund in order to pay for things like chalk and erasers? what the fuck?

what kind of shithole country forces teachers to brainstorm with each other to come up with new ways to beg for money — money that the federal government should be giving them for free?

oh I’m sorry, there’s no money for funding education. we had to cut that shit out of the budget. oligarchs need tax cuts. Jeff Bezos’ personal flotation device needs to refurbish her kidneys.

and Donny needs a billion dollars for his hideous Epstein Dance Hall™.

“because they’re sick people, they’re sick people, and we’re not gonna let lunatics have a nuclear weapon. the power of a nuclear weapon is— something I don’t even wanna talk about. it’s not gonna happen, and— we have— beaten them badly, they’re talking all— now they’re reduced to little boats with a machine gun on the front of them.”

read the room, you dunderhead, you’re talking to kids.

pro tip: don’t put Sundowning Grandpa Fuckbrain in the same room with children. he hasn’t the slightest clue how to talk to them.

those kids were props, trucked in to stand around while Donny signed some ‘Presidential Fitness Proclamation’ — and what does he do? start yammering about nuclear bombs and boats with machine guns. perfectly normal, age-appropriate stuff.

remember when Donny told some 7-year-old that Santa Claus didn’t exist? remember when he spoke at a Boy Scout Jamboree and started rambling about drunken boat orgies?

remember when Donny and his dead pedo bestie used to argue over who got to ‘own’ the ‘spa girls’ at his Florida golf motel? that should forever disqualify Donny from being allowed in the same room with anyone under the age of 21.

mommy, what’s mutilization?

“when you have men in women’s sports, and you have open borders, when you have transgender mutilization — don’t listen to this, kids — of your children, of your children. trans. gender. mutilization of your children, or for everyone. when you have policies like that, you have to cheat. it’s the only way they can win. and we shouldn’t allow them to cheat.”

what kind of parent says yes to having their kid in the same room as this malignant toad? don’t make me come over there and call child protective services.

‘don’t listen to this, kids’ — cover your ears as the demented hatemonger fills the room with his sick brand of bigotry.

and could someone please explain to Dear Leader that nobody is ‘mutilizing’ children? that’s not a word, and it’s not a thing.

remember, Donny actually believes that schools in America are performing gender reassignment surgeries on random children, without warning — that Jimmy gets on the school bus in the morning and when that child steps off the bus in the afternoon, she’s now Jane.

Donny seriously campaigned on ending this imaginary scourge, and apparently he thinks it’s still going on.

this is our president. he’s bugfuck nuts, he’s completely detached from reality, and he needs a billion dollars for his tacky Epstein Dance Hall.

have you heard? we’ve moved the goalposts once again in the don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran. here’s Liddle Marco Big-Shoes to lay it out.

“our preference is for the Straits to be opened, to the way they’re supposed to be open. back to the way it was.”

wait, that’s our new goal? to open the thing that was already open in the first place, and only got closed down because Donny started an unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal war?

why did we just waste 25 billion dollars on bombing the shit out of Iran? for that money, we could have built twenty-five vulgar Epstein Dance Halls.

hell, we could have transgender mutilized every child on the planet.

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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How Much Longer Will We Have To Suffer Before They 25th Amendment Him?

of the myriad accomplishments that Preznit Fuckwit has accomplished during an entire lifetime of accomplishments, none fill him with a greater sense of pride than his preternatural ability to point at shit.

big, strong neurologists — the afternoon sun glistening off their massive biceps, copious tears of gratitude coursing down their chiseled cheeks — will come up to Dear Leader and say ‘sir! sir! no one takes a brain damage assessment test like you do! sir! can you please take another one? sir!’

and Donny, he’s so eager to show off his skills, he’s all ‘what do you need me to point at, bro? a squirrel?’

boom! manifested!

“no president has ever taken [a cognitive test] except me. I’ve taken three of them. I’ve aced each one. one in the first administration. two over— and whenever they get a little sassy, like ‘does he still have it?’, I say all right, I’ll take another. and they are hard. you know, the first question is very easy, and they always show the first question. you have a lion, a bear, an alligator, and a what’s another good— a squirrel, okay? ‘which is the squirrel?’”

know why Dear Leader is so goddamned proficient at pointing at squirrels?

it’s because has has a whole family of them living inside his big dumb pumpkin head.

how completely fucking insane is it that bragging about how good he is at pointing at shit has now become a central part of every one of Donny’s public appearances?

it no longer matters who Donny’s speaking in front of, or what the topic is. his prowess at pointing now comes up every single time he opens his rancid anus-mouth. yesterday’s Oval Bordello dog-and-pony show was ostensibly a ‘small business summit.’ there was no possible context for yammering about squirrels, but that didn’t stop Donny from boasting about taking a test that’s only administered to people suspected of having brain damage.

it’s just more perfectly normal stuff from our perfectly normal president — except for the part where none of this is normal, and all of it is insane. having a crazypants president is not sustainable. alarm bells should be going off in Congress and in every newsroom in America right now — and yet, our institutions have one again failed us, and have normalized having a deranged and impaired president.

oh, and by the way — there’s no squirrel in the MOCA assessment test. remember harder, dumbfuck.

no president has ever worked so tirelessly to convince the American people that he isn’t bugfuck nuts — and you know what? no one’s buying it.

Heather Cox Richardson, could you step in here and give Donny the bad news?

According to a new Washington Post–ABC News–Ipsos poll, fifty-nine percent of Americans believe President Donald J. Trump does not have the mental sharpness necessary to lead the country. Fifty-five percent think he does not have the physical health to serve as president. Fifty-four percent say they don’t think Trump is a strong leader. Sixty-seven percent think Trump doesn’t carefully consider important decisions.

sorry, pal. it looks like no one’s falling for your ‘I’m so good at squirrel’routine.

gee, I wonder where so many people got the idea that Donny’s an erratic imbecile. maybe it’s because he acts like one.

pretending he’s a ‘trans weightlifter’ is also now a regular part of Donny’s act. why? all he’s doing is reminding everyone that he’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

and it’s not just the weird-ass raving. Donny’s now at the ‘words, do they even exist’ stage of his cognitive collapse.

“on the way back home, take a trip to the reflecting pond, or— they call it the reflecting pool, some people call it the reflecting lake, but the word ‘reflecting’ is always a part of it. they call it different things but ‘reflecting’ is always a part.”

what the actual fuck? no one on the planet calls it the ‘pond’ or the ‘lake’ — it’s been the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool since it was built in 1922. but since Dear Leader can no longer dredge the proper word from the murky depths of his rotting brain, he has to pretend that nobody can agree on what it’s called. I guess it’s now just some linguistic free-for-all.

maybe we should call it the Squirrel Pond and let Donny brag about how he can point at it.

I’m so old, I can remember all the way back to our previous president. when Joe Biden would occasionally stumble over a word, the press would react as if it were the Fall of the Republic, and demand Joe resign on the spot, for the good of the country.

but Donny has somehow earned a lifetime free pass to stand there with his brain visibly leaking out of his ears, and no one in the media says boo.

wake the fuck up, Jake Tapper.

Dear Leader can point to all the squirrels he wants to and claim it’s proof of his mental stability, but everyone can see how an erratic and irrational Donny changes his mind about Iran every single fucking day.

“President Trump tells Fox if US ships are targeted in the region, Iran will be ‘blown off the face of the earth’”

oh, okay. so Donny’s back to threatening to blow an entire country off the face of the earth. perfectly normal stuff.

for those of you keeping score at home, in just the last four days, we’ve gone from ‘hostilities are over, I pinky-swear it’s true’ to ‘that blockade, it’s a friendly blockade’ —

— to ‘everything’s cool, we’re liberating the Strait,’ to ‘we’re gong to blow these fucking fucks to kingdom come.’

it’s not just the batshit ranting that has Donny’s poll numbers in the shitter. everyone can also see that Donny’s a physically deteriorating mess who can no longer walk a simple straight line.

holy fuck. a meandering Donny changes direction about eight times in this 30-second clip. if you were a cop, you would immediately rush over and administer a field sobriety test.

granted, Donny isn’t quite yet at the ‘ministry of silly walks’ phase — but he’s getting there.

the press can sanewash and healthwash Donny all they want, but the public has eyes and ears and they can witness for themselves that Dear Leader is out there where the buses don’t run.

having a deranged chief executive who threatens to destroy entire countries and can no longer remember what words mean is a clear and present danger to the entire world.

here’s the good news: Donny’s massive unpopularity is dragging down his entire party. even the White House recognizes that a bloodbath is coming.

The White House is forecasting a rough November for congressional Republicans.

In private briefings, attorneys at the White House Counsel’s Office are preparing executive branch staff for a blue wave in the 2026 elections, The Washington Post reported Monday.

let’s make this happen. let’s all work to make the White House’s nightmare a reality. then, a Democratic-controlled Congress can at least begin to restore sanity to Washington.

we can do this.

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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Photo by Art Litvinau on Unsplash

Hey MAGAs and Trump Supporters,
No Cinco De Mayo for you.
Seriously, y’all need to sit this one out.

No one wants to see you ICE-supporting, immigrant-slandering, landscaper-harassing fascist bootlickers in local Mexican restaurants throughout this country, cramming your faces with tortilla chips, pounding half-price margaritas, and pretending you haven’t spent the previous 364 days making life hell for the Latino community.

We’ve had it with you hypocrites.

You don’t get to both literally and figuratively patronize people you continually demonize, recklessly paint as illegals, drug dealers, and gang members, and spread dangerous disinformation about, just because you feel like doing a little overeating, some day drinking, and suddenly cosplaying as decent human beings.

Now, most Mexican restaurant and bar owners aren’t going to say this because they’re too kind hearted and welcoming a people, but I’ll say it: you career bigots who’ve stridently celebrated this racist president for the last decade, have a hell of a lot of nerve showing up and expecting the rest of us not to call you out on the dehumanizing stereotypes you traffic in all year long.

You need to own the garbage you believe and broadcast about our Latin, Central, and South American brothers and sisters, and the violence that you are complicit in by your votes, your rhetoric, and your silence.

Over the last year and a half, Latino business owners, day laborers, construction workers, teachers, and families have been terrorized, beaten, threatened, improperly detained, jailed, and kidnapped by masked thugs, and your repugnant spray-tanned savior has been the author of it all.

Brown-skinned children have been ripped from their parents, couples have been separated, grandparents have been bloodied, church services have been invaded, and entire communities have been thrown into chaos—and you have applauded every second of it.

And you sure as hell didn’t speak up or show up to defend or support them in the streets or online, lest you feel the slightest bit of turbulence in the places of privilege you call home.

We’ll all had to listen to your rambling racist nonsense in front of our houses, at our family gatherings, at work, at the gym, and pretty much everywhere you show up. We’ve endured your incendiary memes and your asinine jokes and your baseless partisan hit pieces. We’ve absorbed the sewage you spill at town halls, school board meetings, and on neighborhood social media apps.

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So, please, pardon the rest of us for not wanting to have to eat our lunches this Tuesday with a side order of your staggering hypocrisy, and for asking you to show a little consistency.

You don’t get to and drive up your local taqueria with a Build That Wall bumper sticker on your F-150 and expect us all to give you one day of amnesty just cause you’re in the mood to get smashed. I’m sure there are tons of good ol’ boy-owned meat-and-threes, or maybe a nice Applebee’s that’ll do you just fine.

It’s just a little bit disengenous for you to mock and ridicule and vilify a group of human beings all year long and think that we’ll all develop 24-hour amnesia.

And, MAGAs, the same goes for every day after Tuesday, as well. You can complain about diversity, atta boy ICE, cheer voting rights rollbacks, lament foreign cultures, spot off about everybody needing to “talk American”, and you continue to fall prostrate before for your Racist-In-Chief.

But don’t show up in places where people gather to celebrate disparate humanity and the cultural richness of this planet, and hope we’ll ignore your red baseball hats, your white nationalist propaganda, and your efforts to make this nation into a white gated community.

If you’re planning on making an appearance this Cinco De Mayo, let us give you a hearty preemptive “adios!”

Have lunch somewhere else.

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The Week In Stupid

as another stupid week comes to a close here in America, let’s look back at the dumbest fucking shit that happened.

monday: he likes them what?

frankly, I think it’s nice that our piss-drunk Secretary of Death was able to take some time off from his busy schedule of gleefully dropping bombs on Iranian schoolgirls to have a playdate with that noise-adjacent caterwauler, Too Old To Be A Kid Too Impaired To Rock.

the question must be asked: what in the actual small-batch artisanal fuck?

who thought this was an acceptable idea? why is it that our government never has any money when people need healthcare, or when children need a simple hot school lunch, but whenever some shrieking washed-up never-waswants to take a seven-thousand-dollar-an-hour joyride in an attack helicopter, the Donnysphere bends over backwards to accommodate him?

fix America’s actual problems first, you shit-kazoos. then you can waste all the money you want on performative dumbfuckery.

now tell me this: what wisdom could Piss Right Off, You’re Not A Kid possibly be imparting to the assembled crowd in the Pentagon press room?

maybe he’s reciting the lyrics to his charming song, Cool Daddy Cool.

young ladies, young ladies
I like ’em underage
see some say that’s statutory
but I say that’s mandatory

I’ll bet Jeffrey Epstein fucking loved that ditty.

I have a suggestion: if Not A Kid is so horny to do warmonger cosplay, let him enlist and go off to fight in Donny and Petey’s don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran.

no, wait. that would require actual courage.

oh and, Not Even Close To Being A Kid, can we talk? the next time Piss-Drunk Pete rings you up and asks you if you want to hang, tell him you’ve always wanted to go skateboarding with him. trust me. will be wild.

tuesday: kai yi yi

folks, pour one out for Preznit Fuckwit’s granddaughter Kai. she’s going through some things right now.

“I mean, hey. people— some people don’t like me, I mean 50 % of the world doesn’t like me because of my last name. one time I was out in public and someone literally walked up to me to tell me that my grandpa sucks.”

folks, how sad it is that the grifting grifter who has gone into the family business of selling merch and profiting off her famous name is catching shit for it?

Mayor Mamdani, can you and Ms. Rachel step in here for a moment and do us a solid?

thanks, guys.

now let’s do a quick fact check: does Kai’s grandfather suck?

apparently, yes.

I see two paths forward for Kai Trump at this point. one would be to do what Josef Stalin’s daughter Svetlana did — she solved that ‘your dad kinda sucks’ shit in a hot second by changing her name to Lana Peters and moving to Wisconsin, of all places. I shit you not.

or wait — even better, Kai could be like her first cousin once removed, Mary. when strangers come up to Mary Trump and tell her that her uncle totally fucking sucks, she high-fives them and is all ‘you don’t know the half of it.’

wednesday: she should have turned him into a human being

Christofascist hate-factory Joel Webbon is such a charmer.

“you look at Paula White, the chief faith advisor to Donald Trump, you look at some of the clips of her rolling on the ground, waving a coat and trying to slay people in the spirit, and ‘riririririririri’ speaking in tongues, she’s a witch. she’s a witch. she’s not just a Christian with some bad theology. she’s a wolf, she’s a false teacher — but even more than that, as a woman, I think that it is technically accurate to say she is … a witch.”

okay, let’s grant that Mister Stopped Clock here is right about a few things: Paula White is in fact a grifting charlatan who pretends to speak in tongues and has Donny Convict totally bamboozled.

but is she actually a witch?

well, Wytchfinder Joel has proof of Paula White’s witching witchery: she turned him into a newt — but don’t worry, folks. he got better.

thursday: all that glitters

wingnut screech-monkey Lance Wallnau has a few things he needs to get off his somewhat sparkly chest.

“let’s face it, most of the media’s left. it’s not evenly divided. you got, I saw Politico, and The New York Times—”

wait, wait, hang on. I’m sorry, I drifted off and stopped listening to Lance almost immediately, because I got distracted by— dude, what on god’s green shit-tangle are you wearing?

did you crash your car into a glitter factory on your way to the studio? have you been moonlighting at drag queen story hours?

bro, I’ve got Liberace on the phone. he says to tone it way the fuck down.

you’re giving him a headache.

friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™

for once in his chaotic, look-at-me-look-at-me life, some fucking idiot actually had a quiet morning. there were no public appearances on his official schedule, and the feed on his crappy app stayed relatively free of batshittery.

it wasn’t under later in the afternoon that the fucking idiot popped out of his spider hole to inflict himself upon the world.

at 3pm, the fucking idiot addressed an audience from the Florida retirement community The Villages.

he played ‘Live and Let Die,’ which is a totally appropriate song to play for the extreme elderly.

the amost-80-year-old, gripping the podium for dear life, both hands visibly rotting, blithered about being ‘young, vital and vibrant.’

the fucking idiot bragged about being the shittiest boss ever.

the fucking idiot also committed a racism, because of course he did.

fact check: Ilhan Omar did not marry her brother. that’s a racist lie that racists like to tell because racists suck.

once again, the fucking idiot bragged about acing the test they only give you if they have a good reason to suspect you have brain damage, by successfully pointing to a drawing of a camel — oh no, wait, this time it was a bear.

tell me, were percentages on the fucking idiot’s dementia test? I’m guessing not.

finally, the fucking idiot cautioned against his own presidency.

trust us, homey, we all understand what it’s like to be stuck with a president who’s a moron.

mere mortals would have been exhausted after all that — but the fucking idiot isn’t like you or me. he still had some gas left in the tank. between eleven pm and midnight, the fucking idiot started shitting lunacy onto his crappy app.

what kind of fucking idiot would think it appropriate to joke about swimming in the Reflecting Pool? the fucking idiot kind, that’s who.

also, in your dreams you’re that svelte, you floating sack of shit.

oh look, the losing loser who’s lost his war in Iran is imaging he’s a winner.

the only cards you hold are jokers, dumbfuck.

and of all the things that are never going to happen, this next one is never going to happen the most.

now, because it was the middle of the night and the fucking idiot was holed up all alone in his vermin-infested Florida golf motel, not one reporter was around to stand up and ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with 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.

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