 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Do I Have This Correct?
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.
0 Comments
Ben and I
1 Comments
Excellent Question!
0 Comments
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.
Share
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.
0 Comments
Dear White Evangelical Church,
I have some good news and some bad news.
The bad news is you’re dying.
If you’re paying attention, you’ve probably noticed the symptoms.
Your buildings are slowly clearing, your pews gradually emptying, your congregations visibly aging away, your voice carrying less resonance than it used to.
The reasons for this are complicated and interconnected, but here are a few broad strokes:
You’re dying because of your hypocrisy.
People see the ever-widening chasm between who you say you are and what they regularly experience in your presence.
They see the great disparity between the expansive hospitality of Jesus and the narrow prejudice you are so often marked by.
They see Christ’s deep affection for the poor, hurting, and marginalized, and either your quiet indifference or your open hostility toward them.
They’ve listened to you preach incessantly about the immorality of the world, the dangers of greed, the corrupt nature of power, the poison of untruth, the evils of sexual perversion—and watched you willingly align with politicians embodying all of these.
They see that you are so often the very kind of malevolent ugliness that you forever warned was coming to assail the world.
You’re dying because of your willful ignorance.
People are tired of your war on Science.
They are sick of your arguing with Biology.
They are exhausted by your attacks on women.
They are disgusted by your justifications of racism.
They despise your narcissistic nationalism.
They know the Earth is round.
They know it is billions, not thousands of years old.
They know dinosaurs walked it.
They know that it is warming rapidly.
They know people here don’t choose their sexuality or deserve their poverty.
They know whoever and whatever God doesn’t appoint Presidents or hand out weapons or attack people with tornadoes.
You’re dying because of your devotion to cruelty.
People watch you dig in your heels against others because of their gender identity and their sexual orientation; the way you continually exact violence upon them, the way you try to blame God and the Bible for your mindless bigotry.
They’ve seen your intolerance to other religious traditions: how you vilify anyone who finds spirituality and meaning outside of your precise expression of Christianity, how you so easily disregard the faith stories of those who don’t mirror your own.
They’ve watched you so revel in being the bully to those you were originally called to protect.
You’re dying because of your complicity in violence.
Good people have seen you so often be a haven for misogynists, domestic abusers, sexual predators, and white supremacists, who more often receive protections than condemnation.
They’ve heard your explicit silence in the face of a brutal and rising flood of open racism, of hostility toward immigrants, of anti-Semitism, of attacks on Asian people and Muslims.
They see your pastors and leaders misuse their positions and leverage their influence to victimize the most vulnerable and make them scapegoats for discrimination.
They’ve watched you be the last, hateful holdout in matters of gender equality, racial diversity, sexuality, and theological difference; lagging behind almost everyone in the world in the kind of goodness you say you aspire to.
It’s easy to be fooled into believing you’re well because you have the political power of a presidency behind you, because you can temporarily impose your will on this nation. But this frantic flurry of cruelty is actually the death rattle of a doomed and dying thing. The empty bombast and blinding lights of your megachurches are a hollow rally that may momentarily anesthetize you, but they cannot stave off what is coming.
Yes, Evangelical Church, the bad news is that you’re slowly but surely expiring as you are now.
The good news is that in your passing, something else is being born.
Rising in these days is a sprawling movement of disparate people, not bound by denomination or tradition or nation, who want to create something redemptive and life-giving here, who don’t care what it’s called, who gets the credit, or what building it happens in.
Its makers are conscientious objectors in your unending holy wars, choosing to step away from you in order to create loving spiritual communities, grow deeper in personal faith, escape tribal partisan politics, craft a healthier planet, reflect the character of Jesus, and hold onto their souls.
These newly emancipated sojourners are creating something of compassion and generosity and hospitality; a radically inclusive faith that opens the table, a spirituality that welcomes the world, a religion that does no harm: a working theology of love. These open-hearted human beings are unearthing the beauty buried beneath heavy layers of rigid dogma, ornamental religion, and institutionalized discrimination.
The soul is leaving a body that no longer serves it, and you are that body.
The bad news for you, White Evangelical Church, is that you are certainly dying.
And it’s very good news for the rest of us and for a Jesus you have long abandoned.
0 Comments
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.
0 Comments
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.
0 Comments
Same, Girl. Same.
0 Comments
Because It’s True
0 Comments
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.
Joined my friend @KidRock — and some of our great @USArmy Apache pilots — for a ride this morning. (More to come on that!)
Kid Rock is a patriot and huge supporter of our troops. The War Department is wasting no time celebrating America’s 250th — home of the free because of the… pic.twitter.com/7EyhlaCeUj
— Secretary of War Pete Hegseth (@SecWar) April 28, 2026
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.
0 Comments
It’s been said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Right now, I’d say that it’s stepping into a new day and expecting Republicans not to do something horrible.
It happens to all of us.
We wake up in the morning, eventually check our phones or turn on the news, and are greeted by some new abomination: an unprecedented legislative assault on a central pillar of our Republic, the dismantling of long-established civil rights, a heartbreaking act of violence against the most vulnerable among us.
We encounter a legion of novel nightmares authored by the same people whose brutality from the previous day we’ve not yet recovered from, and we are somehow surprised.
Despite a decade of their daily atrocities, despite their prolific portfolio of inhumanity, despite their seemingly inexhaustible disregard for legal and moral law, their malevolence never fails to rattle our nervous systems and boggle our minds anew.
Each day, a sickening sense of deja vu sets in as we find ourselves freshly outraged, as if these moral abominations are out of character for these people, as if they might have reached their capacity for cruelty overnight, as if they’d suddenly had their sociopathy satiated and will magically relent.
Good people, we need to stop doing this.
This is who they have been; it is who they are. There is no moment of clarity coming, no soul awakening, no tearful repentance. They’ve long passed that possibility. To still be tethered to something as monstrous as this man and his movement is to have permanently abandoned the fundamental humanity required to feel empathy or possess self-awareness. We need to stop wasting time hoping his supporters will suddenly call upon their better angels, as they killed those off long ago.
Yesterday, a distraught member of our online community said over Zoom, “No matter what we do, no matter how much we fight, it seems like nothing gets better. Every day, things are worse.” I think she was hoping I would disagree with her.
I assured her that this wasn’t going to change anytime soon, because the people in power have no current external or internal obstacles in their path. They are not ethically bound by the Constitution and possess no regard for the rule of Law. They have commandeered the highest court in our nation and hold zero compunctions about violating the inalienable rights of other human beings.
They also realize that their time is incredibly short, despite appearances to the contrary. They’ve been paying attention to the elections over the last 16 months, and they know the public sentiment against them is rising swiftly. They live with the Sword of Damocles hovering overhead: the unforced errors of a sexual scandal that will not go away, a costly, unwinnable war, and an economy they have singlehandedly driven to life support.
There is no way back; there is only the way down. All they have left is destruction.
Right now, Americans need to make peace with the fact that the news is going to continue to be bad. We are going to witness an ever more desperate and violent descent into the depths of the malevolence human beings are capable of. These people are going to wake up every day, as in this one, singularly driven to damage as many people as possible as quickly as they can, and we should prepare ourselves by not being pulled into disbelief as they do.
We cannot waste a single second being shocked by their depravity, or hoping they will tire of violence, or expecting them to be anything other than who they have shown us they are.
Instead, our energy should be better spent keeping our heads down and getting on with the work before us, of building a broad coalition of resistance, of taking our stands where we can, of leveraging our economic power, of caring for those being targeted, and creating a compassionate community that curates decency and love for neighbor.
We need to stop being surprised by Republicans’ inhumanity and to go about the work of being human.
0 Comments
Bansky Does It Again
Vomiting It All Up/Beating Back The Stupid
I hate this asshole so much. ⌃
Holy Shit, Indeed!
I Honestly Don’t Think I’m Going To Live That Long…
Right?!
Oh Snap!
Change My Mind
Friday Tiedrich
I’m so tired of being told that Preznit Fuckwit — a quadrice-indicted twice-impeached once-convicted popular-vote-losing adderall-huffing dead-pedo-bestie-schmoozing East-Wing-destroying insurrection-leading ear-diapering testimony-ducking judge-threatening lawyer-ignoring debate-avoiding witness-tampering disabled-veteran-dishonoring inheritance-squandering rube-fleecing clown-makeup-smearing language-mangling sneaker-hawking serial-sexual-predating draft-dodging casino-bankrupting butler-bullying daughter-perving hush-money-paying real-estate-scamming bone-spur-faking ketchup-hurling justice-obstructing classified-war-plan-thieving golf-cheating stock-manipulating weather-map-defacing war-criminal-pardoning horse-paste-promoting paper-towel-flinging race-baiting tax-evading evidence-destroying charity-defrauding money-laundering diaper-filling 34-count 79-year-old fluorescent-tangerine narcoleptic fart factory — is some kind of second coming of Jesus.
check out Troy Nehls, the doughy pantload who the voters of Texas keep sending back to Congress.
“I believe that Donald Trump is better than sliced bread. I think he’s— he’s almost the second coming.”
nice catch there, Troy, sticking that ‘almost’ in there. we wouldn’t want any ethereal lightning bolts hurled down from above, aimed squarely at our ass, would we?
I’ve got a news flash for Troy, and all these other Republican fucksticks who never stop yammering about how Dear Leader walks on water: Donny is not the messiah. he’s a very naughty boy. now go away.
let’s do a bit of a fact check. here are some highlights from the dog-and-pony show Donny held in the Oval Bordello yesterday.
tell me, would a true messiah never shut his big fat yap about crowd size?
that’s where Martin Luther King gave his— great speech. and he had a million people, and— I had the same exact crowd, maybe a little bit more, but they said I had twenty-five thousand people on July 4th. I have pictures of Martin Luther King’s crowd, my crowd, exact same— everything. but it was seventy years difference. the exact same crowd, but— I actually had more people, but that’s okay. they gave him— they gave him a million people, they said a million people but I had twenty-five thousand people, so, but— these are the things that you get with the— we had on July 4th uhhhh, a few years ago. first term.”
I’m no Biblical scholar, but I’m pretty sure that Jesus never bragged about the crowd size for the Sermon on the Mount — and let’s not forget, the attendance for that sucker was ginormous. the Sermon crowd was so huge that people in the back couldn’t even properly make out what he was saying.
a real messiah would be humble about that shit, and not wave photos at every opportunity. ‘see this crowd? Pontius Pilate’s autopen wishes he could get that many people.’
Donny sure is jealous of the accomplishments of black men, isn’t he? how small and petty is he, that he can’t even mention King’s speech without insisting that his own crowd was just as big — no, wait, it was bigger! — and that he never got proper recognition for it. shut the fuck up, you tiny, insecure gnat.
how hilarious is it that back in the 1970s, Donny and his tyrant Klansman father got fined by the federal government for refusing to rent any of their apartments to black people — and now, black people like Barack Obama and Martin Luther King Jr live rent-free in Donny’s head?
now I ask you, would a true messiah fall asleep at 3:30 in the afternoon, filling the Oval Bordello with the pungent aroma of ass music?
look at this narcoleptic old coot. he can’t hack it.
what in the actual fuck is going on here? Donny is out like a fucking light — and it looks like he’s about to slide off his chair and disappear under the Resolute Desk. won’t anybody help this frail old man? won’t someone get Dear Leader his pudding cup and lead him to bed?
this, by the way, is why Donny’s handlers kept him hidden from the press all week — he’s crashing out, hard. he can no longer handle the rigors of the presidency.
a real King of Kings wouldn’t be pulling that ‘I’m such a sleepy boy’ crap in the middle of the day — not when there are multitudes to be fed. a true messiah would be on that shit.
consider this: the math involved in figuring out how to divvy up one fish and one loaf into— into— hey, how many is ‘a multitude,’ anyway? look, my point is that a real messiah wouldn’t fail basic fourth-grade arithmetic.
the Apostle Brainworms: “[Elizabeth Warren] was ridiculing President Trump for his math. she was saying it’s mathematically impossible to have a drug drop by 600% in cost. I said ‘well, if the drug was $100 and it raises the price to $600, that would be a 600% rise. well, if it drops from $600 to $100, that’s a 600% savings.’”
Donny: “right.”
imagine being this proud of being this ass-clownishly stupid. that’s not the way calculating percentages works, yet Donny and his disciples are doubling down on their dumbfuckery.
an actual messiah wouldn’t need community notes.
a true Light of the World would put down the lamb, pick up a calculator, crunch the numbers and go ‘huh, I guess you’re right.’
a real messiah learns.
I should point out once again that I’m no Biblical scholar — but I’m pretty sure that Jesus never got pissy with a scribe from the Nazareth News Network.
reporter: “what do you say to the American people who question how much longer this will take? obviously you know they’re having higher gas prices.”
Donny: “you’re such a disgrace. did you hear what I just said? how many years was Vietnam?”
oh, now that’s a winning argument, for sure. go right ahead and keep comparing the debacle in Iran to the clusterfuck in Vietnam. I’m sure that’s a pairing that the American people really want to have in their minds right now, as everything goes to shit.
a messiah wouldn’t call someone ‘a disgrace’ just for asking a question. a real Fisher of Men would give a wink and a thumb’s up while convivially winning all doubters over to his side.
but wait — there’s more.
reporter: “does that mean Americans should anticipate spending more on gasoline for the foreseeable future?”
Donny: “for a little while. you know what they get for that? Iran without a nuclear weapon that’s going to try and blow up one of our cities or blow up the entire Middle East. the stock market is at an all time high.”
reporter: “but that doesn’t drive prices down.”
Donny: “let me finish, wise guy.”
there’s nothing in the Biblical record about the Prince of Peace being a thin-skinned piss-baby — and I’m pretty sure that no one had to hold a What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™ for the ancient scribes of the Lamb of God Press Pool.
so let’s recap.
Jesus: humble as fuck.
Dear Leader: insecure braggart.
Jesus: alert and on the job.
Dear Leader: narcoleptic old fart factory.
Jesus: generous and giving.
Dear Leader: can’t math his way out of a paper bag.
Jesus: patient and kind.
Dear Leader: crabby and short-tempered.
so, it looks like my original premise stands. Preznit Fuckwit is not the messiah. he’s a very naughty boy.
your honor, I rest my case.
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.
Vomiting It All Up
Monday Tiedrich
Donny Convict is bugfuck nuts.
you know it, and I know it — but do you know who else knows it? all the president’s flunkies. they have to continually come up with new ways to deal with his crazypants shit on a daily basis.
here’s a perfectly normal thing that happened with our perfectly normal president.
recently, Donny was acting so erratically while military leaders were planning a rescue operation in Iran, that big strong aides with tears in their eyes had to go up to him and say, ‘sir! sir! why don’t you go play in traffic?’
I shit you not. according to a report in the Wall Street Journal, Donny actually got banned from the command room.
Aides kept the president out of the room as they got minute-by-minute updates because they believed his impatience wouldn’t be helpful, instead updating him at meaningful moments, a senior administration official said.
that’s right: Donny’s handlers had to keep him far away from what was going on, because he was so out of control that they were afraid he would fuck everything up.
can you imagine any other president in recent memory getting eighty-sixed from the center of operations? no, you can’t. it’s practically unthinkable.
here’s how that shit went down. remember that Good Friday incident, when Iran shot down an American jet, and nobody knew what had happened to the pilots? it turns that when he was given the news, Donny shat a massive brick
It was Good Friday afternoon in a nearly empty West Wing soon after the president learned that an American jet had been shot down in Iran, with two airmen missing. Trump screamed at aides for hours.
because everyone knows that the best way to motivate your staff is to get right up into their faces and just fucking unload on them for hours on end. Donny really is the boss from hell.
am I the only one getting ‘Hitler in the bunker’ vibes from Donny’s meltdown?
oh my god, can you imagine having this colicky piss-baby screaming at you for literal hours? no amount of money in the world could be worth having the rancid fecal-breath of that malignant toad being blown in your face as you endured the latest in an infinite series of dressing-downs — not to mention all the hurled ketchup bottles one would eternally be ducking.
seriously, you couldn’t pay me enough. if it were me on the receiving end of one of Donny’s tirades, I’d be all ‘how about you go fuck yourself, Shouty Boy?’
do know why Donny completely lost his shit? because he was worried that news of a downed jet would make him look bad.
“If you look at what happened with Jimmy Carter…with the helicopters and the hostages, it cost them the election,” Trump had said in March. “What a mess.”
picture it: generals with actual combat experience are trying to figure out the best way to bring pilots back from behind enemy lines, and this fucking lunatic is screaming about Jimmy Carter and the price of gas, as if an entire rescue operation was all just some big plot to inconvenience him — because Donny always has to make everything about himself.
oh, and get a load of this.
At one point he even mused he should award himself the nation’s highest military honor, the Medal of Honor.
FOR WHAT? my god, everyone who had to sit there and eat Donny’s shit while he screamed at them without end, they’re the ones who deserve the Medal of Honor.
sorry, Donny — you don’t get a Medal of Honor. what you get is the Four Seasons Total Prancing About Like A Complete Unhinged Fuckface Prize.
just to remind everyone, here’s how a president is supposed to act during a critical military operation.
that was Obama, in the Situation Room while Osama bin Laden was being taken out. notice how he’s not screaming in anyone’s faces about GET THIS FUCKING THING DONE ALREADY. nor is he ranting and raving about how bad he’ll look if shit goes sideways. he’s just a calm, rational dude.
but now we’ve normalized crazy. Donny pulls this childish crap on a daily basis, making a mockery of sane governance, and everyone is all just ‘well, okay. that happened.’
here’s a fun thing for All The President’s Toadies to consider: if you can ban a president from a command room for being too much of a raging lunatic, you can 25th Amendment him from the presidency for the exact same reason.
this deranged fucking maniac is back to calling for the complete destruction of Iran’s infrastructure.
“We’re offering a very fair and reasonable DEAL, and I hope they take it because, if they don’t, the United States is going to knock out every single Power Plant, and every single Bridge, in Iran. NO MORE MR. NICE GUY!”
no more mister nice guy? when was Preznit Fuckwit ever a nice guy?
and oh look, now Donny’s doing his usual Sunday afternoon market manipulation, claiming out of the clear blue that he’s on the verge of another deal with Iran — and, once again, the press dutifully reports it without first bothering to ask Iran if it’s true.
spoiler alert: it’s not true.
all of this is bugfuck nuts. in the span of hours, Donny pinballs from threatening to blow everything sky high, to calmly announcing another imaginary deal.
none of this is normal — and all of it is insane.
here’s a serious question for Donny’s handlers: what’s the plan here? for everyone to just cross their fingers and hope Donny doesn’t eventually call for nukes? are they just hoping Donny somehow magically gets better?
free clue: Donny isn’t going to get better. dementia doesn’t magically cure itself overnight. neither does malignant narcissism, or delusions of grandeur, or compulsive lying, or the need to be worshiped, or any of the thousand pathologies and personality defects that Dear Leader suffers from.
he’s just going to get worse. today, it’s banning Donny from the command room. what’s Dear Leader going to need to be prevented from doing tomorrow?
so let’s go. 25th Amendment now. it’s the only rational solution to the problem of an insane chief executive.
we’ll take our chances with the furniture fucker.
happy Kash Patel is Suing The Atlantic Day to all who observe.
here’s Two-Drinks-Minimum Kash yesterday, shitfaced as usual on Maria Bartiromo’s show.
Maria Bartiromo: “the Atlantic Magazine is alleging that you have a drinking problem. what is your response this morning to this article?”
Krazee-Eyes Kash: “the results, I say, speak for themselves. if the fake news mafia isn’t hitting you personally with baseless information in Washington DC, then you’re not going you job. and it’s louder than ever, because this FBI, under President Leadership …”
Kash goes on to filibuster Bartiromo’s question for a solid two minutes without ever actually denying that any of his ahem alleged blackout-drunk escapades happened.
nice job of deflection, bro.
Kash says he’ll be filing his defamation suit against The Atlantic today. here we have some file footage of a definitely sober Kash, strategizing with his ace team of lawyers.
whoops! wrong footage.
and now, here’s your hero of the day: this fucking duck.
I have no idea what the duck did to deserve this, but remember: if you can 25th Amendment a duck from a store, you can 25th Amendment a lunatic from the presidency.
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.
Thursday Tiedrich
once again, everything in the news is so unbelievably stupid that I don’t even know where to start. so today, I’m just going to spin the Big Wheel of Moron™ and see where it lands. ready? here we go.
“as we all know, the natural habitat for the Earth is actually water.”
that was Donny Convict’s Secretary of Moneygrubbing, Soybean Scott Bessent, pooh-poohing the idea that climate change is bad. as Bessent tells it, no one should worry about the rapid melting of the polar ice caps, because ‘the natural habitat for the Earth is actually water.’
dear lord, this shitwit is seriously advocating for Waterworld, one of the dumbest fucking movies ever.
Scott Bessent is so smug and pompous — and supremely self-assured — as he farts out one of the most imbecilic things you’ll ever hear in your life.
do you know why Soybean Scott is so confidently idiotic? it’s because he suffers from the heartbreak of fuckbrainoligarchosis, a malady where just because a person manages to accumulate a pile of money, they imagine they’re super-geniuses about everything.
in that clip above, Soybean Scott was speaking at the Institute of International Finance, which is sort of a support group where those afflicted by fuckbrainoligarchosis can get together and share their delusions of intelligence.
basically, the Institute of International Finance is what would happen if Monty Python’s Upper Class Twit of the Year sketch became a real boy.
oh, and fact check:
Technically the natural habitat of Earth is the frigid vacuum of space mr bessent, go enjoy some of that with all your friends and leave us the fuck alone
— spotless (@freespotless) April 15, 2026
apparently, water isn’t the only liquid on Soybean Scott’s mind these days.
“as President Trump said this morning that he thinks we’re nearing the end. the US kept their side on the cease fire. we’ve stopped firing. the Straits of Vermouth have not been completely reopened.”
the Straits of Vermouth! I fucking love that. that is a Freudian slip for the ages. I’ll bet that’s what Piss-Drunk Pete Kegstand calls it, too.
that’s not, however, what Preznit Fuckwit calls it.
“Italy gets a lot of oil from— the— Strait. you can call it the Strait of Hormuz or the— Hormuz Strait. I said ‘which is better?’ they said ‘either is okay, but you can call it either one. the only thing you can’t call it is the ‘Trump Strait.’ they don’t like that idea.”
wait a minute — who are ‘they’, who Donny’s been in deep conversation with about ‘what to you call that watery thing next to Iran’? has he been talking to the random shrieking noises in his head? or maybe the family of raccoons that live up there?
and believe you me, Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants is dead serious about wanting to call it the ‘Trump Strait.’ he doesn’t crack any smile whatsoever when he says it, and then he goes on to brag about —
“by the way, speaking of that, I did a thing that people like very much, except for Mexico. I took the Gulf of Mexico and we now call it the Gulf of America. it’s not bad.”
the deteriorating old shit can’t even focus for five second on the subject at hand — his disastrous don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran — without his demented mind wandering to his Glorious Victory in the Great Renaming War of 2025.
oh, and pro tip: it’s not the Gulf of America. it’s the Gulf of Release the Full Unedited Epstein Files, You Fucking Liar.
well, that was fun — so let’s take another spin on the Big Wheel of Moron™. here we go!
because Dear Leader is mad at the Pope, now the entire Presidential Ass-Kiss Industrial Complex has be mad at the Pope, too.
Holy Mike Johnson, the limpest dick in Congress, knows what I’m talking about.
“a pontiff or any religious leader can say anything they want, but obviously if you wade into political waters, you should expect some political response and I think the Pope has received some of that. you know, I was taken a little bit aback, just honestly, frankly, by something that was said, I think he said it several days back, something about ‘those who engage in war, Jesus doesn’t hear their prayers’ or something. you know, it is a very well-settled matter of Christian theology, there’s something called the ‘just war’ doctrine.”
oh look — just like Couchfuck McGee, Holy Mike Johnson knows more about popery than all the popes.
I have a question: what sick pleasure does it bring Holy Mike to neuter himself on a daily basis, in service of Dear Leader? it’s like the guy never allows himself a single independent thought. whatever Donny decides on any given day, that’s totes aces with Mike. doesn’t matter if it’s a complete one-eighty from whatever Commander Crazypants said yesterday.
hey, Holy Mike — is this you?
it’s so galling, watching all these hypocrites telling the Pope to zip his fool mouth about religion, if he knows what’s good for him. these are the people who have never once shut the fuck up about how there needs to be more religion in government. these are the same loudmouth zealots who are so horny to force their vision of prayer in the schools — and the Ten Commandments in every classroom — on We the People.
but the second the Pope is all ‘maybe sometimes war is bad and stuff,’they’re all WAIT A MINUTE, WE DIDN’T MEAN RELIGION LIKE THAT.
and so now — just because Pope Chicago Bob was mean to Dear Leader — suddenly it’s open season on Catholics in America.
The Trump Admin has abruptly canceled an $11M contract with Catholic Charities to shelter and care for migrant children who enter the U.S. alone, ending a relationship between the Catholic Church and the U.S. government dating back to the first arrivals of Cuban exiles in South Florida.”
lovely. Donny — the swindler who set up a bogus charity so he could steal money raised in the name of cancer-stricken children — is now punishing a legitimate charity that does actual good work, all because he’s a thin-skinned, vindictive piss-baby prick.
welcome to the United State of Eternal Fucking Embarrassment.
okay, let’s give that Big Wheel of Moron™ one final spin.
“we got these third-world people coming here, these Muslims. you know, they call it a religion. what religion do you know that says ‘if you’re not in our religion, we’re gonna kill ya. and we want you dead’? that’s not a religion. that’s a cult. they took over Europe. it’s gone.”
hey, Tom-Toms, you want to about a cult? because oh boy, do I have a cult for you.
‘the Muslims took over Europe, and its gone’? what the fuck is Terminally-Concussed Tommy talking about?
now, because I’m a responsible journalist and everything, I googled ‘the Muslims took over Europe’ and this is what I learned.
In 711, a Berber-led army under Tariq ibn Ziyad invaded and conquered most of modern-day Spain and Portugal in a seven-year campaign. Muslim rule flourished there for nearly 800 years until the fall of Granada in 1492.
bro, relax. that was thirteen hundred years ago — I’m pretty sure Spain and Portugal came out of it just fine.
fuck all that noise, because it’s time for our hero of the day: New York’s Islamo-communo-marxo-anarcho-fascist Mayor, Zohran Mamdani.
yesterday was April 15th — and in honor of Tax Day, Mayor Mamdani posted this vid to social media.
“when I ran for mayor, I said I was going to tax the rich. well, today we’re taxing the rich. I’m thrilled to announce we’ve secured a pied-a-tierre tax — the first in New York’s history. this is an annual fee on luxury properties worth more then $5 million whose owners do not live full-time in the city. like this penthouse, which hedge fund CEO Ken Griffin bought for $238 million. this pied-a-tierre tax is specifically designed for the richest of the rich. those who store their wealth in New York City real estate, but who don’t actually live here. and most of the time, these units are sitting empty, since, again, they don’t actually live here.”
I fucking love Mamdani. he’s so charming and charismatic — and he’s so freaking good at messaging.
no wonder the oligarchy hates Zohran’s guts. boo fucking hoo, oligarchs.
the morbidly wealthy call this luxury tax a nightmare. I call it a good start — because taxing billionaires out of existence is one sure cure for the heartbreak of fuckbrainoligarchosis.
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.
Midweek Tiedrich
 |
United States Vice President Couchfuck McGee has been on quite the roll lately.
he spent an entire week in Hungary, campaigning for Dear Leader’s despot bestie Viktor Orbán — only for Vik to end up getting crushed in a historic landslide.
his attempt to wangle some kind of peace deal with Iran was a clownfucktacular disaster. after just one day of getting his smug, insufferable ass handed to him, he bailed and went home.
the latest stop on the JD Vance Worldwide Self-Humiliation Tour was the Akins Ford Arena in Athens, Georgia, and — well, you can see for yourself just how swimmingly that debacle went.
ooof. that is pathetic. look at the sections upon sections upon sections of empty seats. it’s a ghost town.we definitely need to gif that shit for posterity’s sake.
 |
whoever had the bright idea to book an 8,500-seat hockey arena for an evening with the most-repellent person in American politics really deserves the Four Seasons Total Landscaping Completely Shat The Bed Prize.
for fuck’s sake, they could have held the event in any one of Athens’ numerous doughnut shops, and it would have been a more appropriately-sized venue.
 |
‘so, how long have you been coming to see me speak? HA HA, THAT’S GREAT.’
but it’s a shame that more people didn’t show for the event, because they really missed out on a crowning moment of supreme arrogance. hey, did you know that Couchfuck McGee knows more about popery than all the popes?
“I think it’s very important [for the Pope] to be careful when he talks about matters of theology.”
‘the Pope needs to stop mouthing off about religion’ is a bold strategy for Vance. let’s see if it pays off for him.
 |
even The New York Times was forced to commit a journalism.
 |
that’s a hell of a headline, isn’t it?
you know, it’s kind of inaccurate to frame the piss-baby bellyaching that Donny and Couchfuck are engaging in as some kind of ‘feud’ they’re having with the Pope. it’s not. these dumbfucks are mental pipsqueaks. they’re not operating on the same level as Pope Chicago Bob.
it’s only a feud in the same way that you or I might ‘feud’ with two annoying gnats buzzing around our face.
the unearned arrogance of Donny and his sewer clowns is stunning.
with every single member of Preznit Fuckwit’s administration, it’s as if Dunning and Kruger had a baby — and then dropped it on its head. not one of these shitwits has any idea just how totally fucking brainless they are.
Piss-Drunk Pete Kegstand, a Fox News weekend chat-show dunk-tank clown, imagines he knows more about warfighting than all the generals who have studied military strategy their entire lives — and look where Pete’s unwavering faith in his own nonexistent genius has gotten us: bogged down in an unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran.
chainsawed-whale-head enthusiast Bobby Brainworms Jr. believes he knows more about germ theory than all the actual scientists. in reality, he’s the Marvelous Mister Measles.
Donny, of course, lives in a magical, enchanted fever-swamp fairyland where he knows more about everything than everybody. anyone who falls for this patently ludicrous nonsense has been licking toads.
 |
and now, the repulsive furniture fucker JD Vance has the temerity to lecture the Pope — the person who Catholics believe is God’s infallible representative on Earth — on theology.
the unearned and serene confidence of mediocre white men like Couchfuck McGee is stunning. if only there were some way to tap it, it could be an infinite source of cheap, renewable energy.
hang on — Captain Obvious has something else he needs to get off his chest.
“people don’t have any idea how bad the corruption is in Washington DC.”
of course, Couchfuck want you to believe that corruption in DC is a Democratic issue. fuck off, JD — We the People know exactly where the corruption in DC is. we see it every day. we see it when the Republican-controlled Congress abdicates their Constitutionally-mandated responsibility to act as a check on a power-mad president.
we see it when the Republican-controlled Supreme Court declares that Dear Leader is a Very Special Boy Who Gets To Crime All He Wants.
we see it when Donny’s own Department of What Used To Be Justice uses its power to suppress the Dead Pedo Bestie Files.
we see it when this wine-guzzling cow-cosplaying weirdo imagines her job is to prosecute all of Dear Leader’s political enemies.
 |
we see it when Tom Homan gets caught on video accepting bags of cash from undercover agents, and then the whole thing mysteriously goes fuckity-bye.
 |
and we see it when Dear Leader uses the power of his office to enrich himself, selling everything from access to pardons to fucked-up trading cards of himself as a super-hero.
 |
so fuck all the way off, JD Vance — if that even is your real name — when you get all high and mighty about ‘corruption in DC.’ go clean up your own house first.
you know what? I think the time has come for someone to 25th Amendment the shit out of Donny, and replace him with Couchfuck McGee.
think about it: a Vance presidency would be an immediate failure. he’s repulsive. nobody likes him. he’s boring. he’s impotent. he holds no sway over the media. nobody in Congress fears him.
he has no violent army of deranged cultists willing to break the law for him.
 |
and we’d never have to worry about JD Vance ordering a nuclear strike on someone because he woke up in a bad mood.
he’d simply be a placeholder until the next Democratic president.
seriously, 25th Amendment Donny and bring this guy on.
and speaking of the 25th Amendment —
 |
Rep. Jamie Raskin of Maryland, the top Democrat on the House Judiciary Committee, introduced a bill on Tuesday that seeks to kick-start the removal of President Donald Trump through the 25th Amendment — a long-shot effort that, while unlikely to succeed, aims to put renewed focus on the president’s mental fitness and recent rhetoric.
The legislation, which was offered with 50 Democratic co-sponsors, would establish a Commission on Presidential Capacity to Discharge the Powers and Duties of Office. That body would be composed of 17 members tasked with determining whether the president is incapacitated — “either mentally or physically” — and unable to discharge the powers and duties of office, as called for in Section 4 of the 25th Amendment.
I’m not being sarcastic when I say that more of this is exactly what we need right now.
of course, we need be clear-eyed about it. you can’t even call Raskin’s proposed legislation a hail-Mary shot. it hasn’t a snowball’s chance of passing in a Republican-controlled Congress.
but it’s important for Democrats to keep raising the issue of Donny’s steep mental decline, and keep it in the public’s consciousness — especially right now, when Dear Leader is acting so erratically — and fucking up so shittacularly — that even the the hardest-core MAGA cultists are beginning to be all ‘dude, what the fuck?’
it’s all about optics.
it’s necessary for the good of our nation — and the world — that people keep talking about how completely bugfuck nuts Donny is.
and — oh my — look who agrees with me for once: the NY Times.
 |
Trump’s Erratic Behavior and Extreme Comments Revive Mental Health Debate
As President Trump threatens to wipe out Iran and attacks the pope, even some former allies and advisers are questioning whether he has grown increasingly unbalanced, describing him as “lunatic” and “clearly insane.”
welcome to the dark side, Grey Lady. it only took you shit-kazoos ten years to figure out what rest of us saw on Day One.
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.
as another stupid week comes to a close here in America, let’s look back at the dumbest fucking shit that happened.
monday: respect? they have an odd way of showing it
lord help us, noises are once again issuing from Fox News found object Jesse Watters’ lips.
“Trump talks like a Persian strongman. that’s the kind of language that they understand. strength, respect, honor.”
look, we know that Jesse Watters has eternally fantasized that his big, strong ‘daddy’ Donny would at long last take off his belt and tan his misbehaving hide. fine, whatever the fuck turns you on, Jesse. who are we to get all judgemental and shit?
but I’d love to know on what planet Donny is regarded as a ‘strongman’ who is ‘respected’ — because I’m sorry to burst Jesse’s bubble here, but Dear Leader is an international laughingstock.
Italian PM Georgia Meloni, can you think of a single world leader who ‘respects’ Donny?
yeah, me neither.
there’s no fucking way that Iran has any respect whatsoever for the diaper-crapping piss-baby in the Oval Bordello. has Jesse Watters not seen the videos they’ve been putting up on Elon’s Nazi Bar and Child Porn Emporium? yo Jess, check this out.
yup, that’s some industrial-strength respect for Preznit Teletubby, all right.
nd here’s a third.
and that only scratches the surface. Iran is laughing its ass off at Dear Leader, along with the rest of us.
oh, and because I’m a responsible journalist and everything, I wanted to know exactly what a ‘Persian strongman’ is, so I googled it. here’s what I got.
yeah, I think any single one of these homeys could take Donny apart.
you might need a new metaphor there, Jesse.
tuesday: buh-bye
pour one out for the proprietor of the now-shuttered Trump Truth Store in Crystal Lake, Illinois.
sales plummeted when conflict with Iran began, with the owner saying business went “dead as a door nail”
okay, my friends, you know the drill — because now comes the part where we throw our heads back in laughter.
look at the crap that was being foisted on shoppers.
On March 26, Fleischmann revealed on Facebook that her MAGA-themed establishment, which retailed $25 T-shirts displaying, “GOD GUNS AND TRUMP 2024,” “ICE ICE BABY,” and “DEPARTMENT OF DOGE,” will be “closed until further notice.”
oh, so the customers of the ‘Trump Truth Store’ were totally fine with all the fascist ass-clownery being perpetrated by Dear Leader’s goons, and it was only when gas became expensive that wearing Donny-branded shit became toxic?
well then fuck all those fucking fucks.
maybe the Trump Truth Store needs to rebrand. I’d wear the shit out of a Flippy McCrushnuts shirt. you would, too.
wednesday: to see if wut?
christofascist Stew Peters seems nice
“I told you on Day One that young American men would be sent into the meat grinder on the ground to die for Israel. it’s imminent. it’s guaranteed. right now, the White House and the Pentagon are reportedly working on plans to send in American troops along with heavy equipment to steal Iran’s uranium — if they even have any. and while all of that is in the works, Lindsey Graham is on television calling for the expansion of the ongoing air campaign, for the United States to continue committing as many war crimes as possible. we should drop Lindsey Graham right off in the middle of Tehran — to see if these people really do throw queers off of rooftops.”
oh sweet baby Jesus in the manger. Stew was almost making sense there for a while and then it went so hard off the rails right there at the very end.
does Lindsey Graham have any idea that this is what people on his own side think of him? Lindsey? Lindsey?
holy shit.
thursday: let’s shed some light on the subject
Wednesday was a bit intense, so let’s lighten this shit up.
what the fuck happened to Naomi Wolf? she used be a garden-variety ‘wellness’ crank who dabbled in vaccine denial — but then she become a full-bore a full-bore conspiracy loon.
remember this?
“I endorsed Pres Donald Trump yesterday. Today all day my phone froze, the cursor on my computer started wandering around the desktop, and my wifi continually disconnected. All coincidentally.”
well, Dr. Wolf’s back, with a burning question about photos of the moon taken from the Artemis II spacecraft.
all that light is coming from space lasers, Naomi.
we Jews have a fuck-ton of them, Naomi, and we’re happy to have done our part to ensure that the Artemis II mission was a roaring success. you need the moon lit up? we’ve got that shit covered!
and while we’re on the subject, can we just revisit the all-time greatest dogwalking of Dr. Wolf? it happened just last week.
that is perfect. chef’s kiss. ten out of ten. no notes.
friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™
some fucking idiot’s Friday started, as so many of them do, with him raving incoherently at six o’clock in the morning into his crappy app.
excuse me, but what is the ‘WORLD’S MOST POWERFUL RESET’? is that what the fucking idiot calls having his morning diaper changed?
for the third consecutive day, the fucking idiot’s handlers tried their best to keep him away from the press — but they couldn’t keep the fucking idiot from shitting his delusional batshittery all over social media.
Iran holds no cards? I’m pretty sure that any country who can shut down a major shipping route at will — and trick the fucking idiot into agreeing to it — holds a shitload of cards.
oh look, the fucking idiot is promising to use the ‘full economic might of the United States’ to prop up the failing economy of his depot bestie Orbán’s Hungary.
I have an idea: how about the fucking idiot use the ‘full economic might of the United States’ to help Americans? isn’t the fucking idiot always going on and on about ‘America first’?
and there’s no way the fucking idiot wrote that tweet himself. there’s no chance in hell his rotting fingers know how to type the accent in ‘Orbán.’
now here’s a fun thing we learned on Friday about the fucking idiot. apparently he’s promised to pardon anyone who’s come with ‘200 feet’ of the Oval Bordello.
as one does, when one’s entire administration is made up of corrupt criminal fucksticks. am I right, Tom Homan?
Tom Homan knows I’m right.
oh, and the one time on Friday that the press got managed to get close enough to the fucking idiot to ask him questions — as he was headed to his Florida golf motel — he proved to be as befuddled, out-of-touch and ill-informed as ever.
and, despite that one, brief window of opportunity, not reporter 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.
