some days, everything in the news is so unbelievably stupid that I don’t even know where to start. so I’m just going to spin the Big Wheel of Moron and see where it lands. ready? here we go.

“China was gonna hit us with rare earth. now, everybody says that ‘what does that mean?’ magnets. if China refused to give magnets, ’cause they have a monopoly of magnets, ’cause they have allowed to— you know, happened over a thirty-two year period. uh, there wouldn’t be a car made in the entire world. there wouldn’t be a radio, there wouldn’t be a television, there wouldn’t be internet, there wouldn’t be anything, because magnets are such a part— now, nobody knows what magnets are. and not overly sophisticated, but to build a magnet system would take two years.”

you know, I’ve been writing about Preznit Fuckwit for years now, and I’ve become pretty fluent in moronspeak — but even I can’t make heads or tails of this burst trashbag of word-adjacent noises.

if you explained China’s rare earth magnet policy to any random first grader, and asked them to repeat it back to you, you would no doubt get something more comprehensible that Donny’s incoherent babbling.

but check out this nugget buried in Donny soliloquy.

‘nobody knows what magnets are.’

if anyone reading this post doesn’t know what magnets are, could you please check yourself into the nearest Soylent Green facility, because you’re wasting perfectly good oxygen.

you know who doesn’t know what magnets are? Donny. he’s every-accusation-is-a-confessioning again. Donny’s mystified by magnets. all he knows is they stop working if they get wet.

Preznit Fuckwit is an imbecile who doesn’t know shit about shit.

Donny’s befuddled by the power switch on a computer. wrap your head around that. back in March, Laura Ingraham asked him what field his college-bound son Barron might go into. Donny’s answer went straight into the Dumbfuck Hall of Fame.

“maybe technology. he can look at a computer. I’m trying, turning off his computer, I turn it off, I turn it off, his laptop, I said ‘oh good now,’ and I go back five minutes later, he’s got his laptop. I say, ‘how did you did that?’ ‘none of your business, dad.’ he’s got an unbelievable aptitude in technology.”

*blinks in astonishment*

holy shit, President What’s The Deal With Magnets got outwitted by an on-off switch.

this is the the Superior Intellect who, as his fifth casino went bankrupt, said ‘hey, let’s open a sixth.’ he’s that stupefyingly dumb. and he’s currently negotiating rare earth magnet policy with China. he’s going to get eaten alive.

77 million people voted for this. take a bow, America. you’ve outdone yourself.

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well, that was fun. let’s give the Big Wheel of Moron another spin.

here’s Holy Mike Johnson, once again weaseling out of answering the age-old question, ‘if you’re going to shitcan Obamacare, what will going to replace it with?’

we’ve got notebooks full of ideas.”

oh please, fuck straight off with this nonsense. for fifteen years, an endless procession of Republicans have told us that their plan to replace Obamacare is just around the corner. any day now. two weeks, tops.

there is no Republican plan to replace Obamacare, other than ‘please just go away and die.’

last week Holy Mike assured us a plan was almost ready, but he couldn’t talk about it because he didn’t want the details to leak. what on earth? this week, he’s got notebooks full of ideas. next week, it’s going to be some new story. maybe his dog will have eaten his healthcare plan.

shut the fuck up, Mike. we’re not as gullible as your cultists.

it turns out we don’t need Holy Mike’s imaginary notebook full of nonexistent ideas, because Donny’s finally released that healthcare plan he’s been working on since forever. check it out:

wait, how did that get in here? I’m sorry, here’s Donny to explain his actual plan.

“what I want is instead of going to the insurance companies, I want the money to go into an account for people where the people buy their own health insurance. it’s so good. the insurance will be better. it’ll cost less. everybody is gonna be happy. they’re gonna feel like entrepreneurs. they’re actually able to go out and negotiate their own health insurance. and they can use it only for that reason, to be only for that purpose. and if we did that, that would be so exciting. call it Trumpcare.”

are you fucking kidding me? what Donny is proposing here is to construct a new layer of government bureaucracy — one that’s going to create millions of individual bank accounts that can only be used to pay for health insurance, and somehow, money will magically show up in these accounts, and all of us get to be our very own entrepreneurs.

yay us!

and who’s going to administer this? Bobby Brainworms and the Shitblizzard of Oz? really? the two low-wattage imbeciles who couldn’t healthcare their way out of a wet paper bag?

instead of calling Trumpcare, how about we call it The Most Fuckbrained Thing I Ever Heard Of.

Donny gets away with this shit because no reporter will ask the simple question, ‘how would that work?’ they just sit there and nod their heads, as if the gibberish that just seeped out of Donny’s rancid anus-mouth made all the sense in the world.

can we get that confused first grader back in here to cook up a healthcare plan? because I’m pretty sure she could do a better job than Donny.

when President Gas Leak farts out some cockamamie scheme to create an unworkable bureaucracy administered by morons, and backs it up with ‘it’s so good. the insurance will be better. it’ll cost less. everybody is gonna be happy’ — without offering on iota of explanation how on earth it would happen — there’s really only one appropriate response. say it with me, because you know what it is. that’s right: what the fuck is wrong with you?

look, I don’t need an additional job, that of Insurance Policy Negotiator. I’m actually pretty shit at negotiating. I don’t like admitting that, but it’s true. but now I have to be William Fucking Shatner, just to obtain healthcare coverage?

I guarantee our soft, pampered president hasn’t spent one second of his life on the phone with an insurance company. he has no idea what a fucking nightmare it is.

you know who’s going to leap at the chance to go head-to-head with an insurance company? MAGA morons, that’s who — because just like Dear Leader, they’re all convinced of their own genius. imagine the dipshit down the street — the one with all the Trump flags on his broken-down pickup truck — on the phone with some corporate sharpie. he’s going to get fleeced, and end up with a plan that’s ten times worse than the one he got through Obamacare — and he’s going to brag about how he pulled one over on United Healthcare.

look, there is a simple insurance solution out there. let me explain.

I’ve got Medicare. it’s provided to me by the government. it’s reliable. I never have to talk to an insurance company. it just fucking works. I never have to worry about being bankrupted by a visit to the hospital. we should expand on that, and make it available to everyone, not just old farts like me. we could even give it a fancy name. how about Medicare for All?

wouldn’t that make the most sense?

I’m a fucking genius, right?

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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.