Jeebus Johnson learns Pornhub is shutdown in the South, wonders about VPNs.
There’s no way that the Epstein Pedo-Files will ever be fully released without someone leaking them. Honestly, I’m surprised that no one has leaked it yet.
Of course Hair Füror tried to head it off at the pass (as one does), and you can honestly smell the flop sweat/loaded diaper in this story:
Trump and administration officials reached out to Boebert and Mace in the hours ahead of Grijalva signing the petition Wednesday, as either one of them removing their names would have prevented the effort from succeeding. CNN reported that Attorney General Pam Bondi, Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche and FBI Director Kash Patel planned to meet with Boebert on Wednesday. Trump called Mace early Wednesday, but the two had not connected as of early afternoon, a source told The Hill.
Both representatives kept their names on the petition.
From the NOTUS email thingie:
Two former Biden White House officials told NOTUS that it was “highly unusual” and “weird” for the Situation Room to be used for non-national security or classified issues. The White House did not respond.
“It’s just an easy SCIF to get to,” Boebert told NOTUS’ Manuela Silva last night when she asked why the meeting took place in a room reserved for high-profile national security issues. “I guess I’m pretty high profile.”
And this little detail makes something clear: “I’m not going to detail conversations that took place in the Situation Room,” semisentient jar of mayo and press secretary Karoline Leavitt told reporters at the briefing. To gain access to the Situation Room you cannot have any phones or other recording info (including paper and pencils). They chose a SCIF deliberately.
Anyway, here’s the process AND the liabilities for releasing the Epstein Pedo-Files. If the House passes the bill, then…
The measure heads to the Senate, where it will be filibustered. Will enough Republicans cross the line to bring the votes to 60?
Any amendment the Senate might attach —no matter how trivial— would send it back to the House, where Pornhub Moses would then smother it in its sleep.
Vulgarmort will never sign it.
Remember, the Epstein estate has the documents, too. That’s how the W$J made the vulgar birthday card public. And it is also how we will know if the DOJ tampered with them, as it seems likely.
I think I’m overdosing on schadenfreude right now.
yesterday morning, out of the clear blue, Democrats on the House Oversight Committee dropped an atomic bomb right into our laps, in the form of three emails sent and received by Preznit Fuckwit’s dead pedo bestie, Jeffrey Epstein.
oh, and guess what: Donny’s name is all over that shit.
if it turns out that I’m asleep right now, please don’t wake me — because I’m having one of the best fucking dreams ever.
“of course he knew about the girls, as he asked Ghislaine to stop.”
I can’t wait to hear all about how Joe Biden’s autopen went back in time and ginned up a bogus email confirming that Donny asked Ghislaine to stop befriending and then trafficking the Motel-a-Lago ‘spa girls’ whom Donny and Eppie used to fight over.
i want you to realize that that dog that hasn’t barked is trump. [VICTIM] spent hours at my house with him ,, he has never once been mentioned. police chief. etc.”
now, let’s not jump to conclusions here. just because Donny was holed up for hours at Epstein’s house with one of those underage ‘spa girls’ doesn’t mean that anything untoward was going on.
maybe Donny was helping her with her math homework. maybe he was explaining how you can lower the price of a prescription drug by a thousand percent. maybe she was giving him makeup tips on how not to look like a fluorescent tangerine fuckwit. if so, he wasn’t listening.
look, let’s not bicker and argue about who was spending hours alone with who.
“I think you should let him hang himself. If he says he hasn’t been on the plane or to the house,… [y]ou can hang him in a way that potentially generates a positive benefit for you, or, if it really looks like he could win, you could save him, generating a debt.”
perfectly normal stuff. just Donny’s official biographer spitballing with Donny’s dead pedo bestie over the best ways to make Donny incriminate himself.
I suppose I should have mentioned earlier that everyone in this story fucking sucks.
after the Oversight Dems released those three emails, James Comer Fudd, the rake-steppingest fuckwit in Congress, decided that the best way to deal with the situation was to release 20,000 more Epstein documents he’d been sitting on.
what was the logic at work here? was Comer Fudd trying to overwhelm everyone by ‘flooding the zone with shit’? if so, it he failed miserably. reporters eagerly dove headfirst into that pile of docs, and guess fucking what: the stuff that Comer released was just as incriminating — if not more so — as the three emails released by the Dems.
Nearly a month before President Donald Trump met Russian leader Vladimir Putin in Helsinki in 2018, Jeffrey Epstein attempted to pass a message to Russia’s top diplomat: If you want to understand Trump, talk to me.
“I think you might suggest to putin that lavrov can get insight on talking to me,” Epstein wrote in a June 24, 2018, email to Thorbjorn Jagland, a former prime minister of Norway who was leading the Council of Europe at the time of the exchange. Lavrov was an apparent reference to Sergei Lavrov, Russia’s longtime foreign minister.
what in the hallowed name of Stab You In The Back Jesus was going on here? it’s really weird how a guy who maintained an entire island just for raping teenage girls apparently had the email addresses of diplomats and heads of state. what a coincidence. and he sure was super horny to make sure the Russians had dirt on Donny.
did Epstein even like Donny? it really doesn’t sound like it. when told that ‘Trump is so gross,’ he replied ‘worse in real life and upclose.’
here’s another perfectly normal thing: Epstein asking a reporter if they’d like to have “photos of donald and girls in bikinis in my kitchen?”
this is the shit that Comer Fudd thought would diffuse the situation?
I guess that’s what happens when you leave damage control to a rake-stepping fuckwit.
by the way, where is the media on all this? thirty years ago, the press hounded Bill Clinton to resign over a blow job. isn’t what Donny’s caught up in just as bad, if not a whole lot worse? he’s clearly unfit for office. where are all the calls for Donny to step down? come on, you fucking cowards. do your jobs.
here’s how totally freaked out Donny was by all this new shit coming to light: he started panic-dialing the Republicans who had signed onto Massie’s discharge petition.
“Trump himself called Boebert, regarding her signing onto the Epstein petition and spoke to her yesterday, I am told. Trump playing phone tag with Mace. So far, they are not planning to remove their names from the petition.”
holy shit, Donny had to play phone tag with Nancy Mace! how hilarious is it that when America’s self-appointed bathroom panty inspector’s phone rang and she saw it was Dear Leader, she was all ‘I’m not answering that shit.’
as for five-time international lap-hockey champion Handy Oakley, they actually summoned her to the While House Situation Room — and when she got there, Attorney General Pam Bondi, Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche, FBI Director Kash Patel were waiting for her.
oh my god, it’s like a Murderer’s Row of morons — a Dumbfuck Hall of Fame — with all these incompetent clowns going ‘pretty please, Lauren, we’ll be your best friend.’
what do you suppose all these geniuses offered Boebert to get her to change her vote? a bag of money? an ambassadorship? some important White House role — something meaty she could get her hands around?
“My understanding is that the relentless pressure campaign that has included carrot, stick, good cop, bad cop, has made her even more dug in, suspicious and convinced there’s a conspiracy at play.”
no fucking duh, it is a conspiracy.
imagine being so clownfuckingly inept at doing a cover-up that even a low-wattage numbskull like Handy Oakley can clearly see what’s going on.
now let’s enjoy Adelita ‘Oh Gee, I’m The 218th Vote To Release The Files’ Grijalva finally being sworn in.
so, was Finally-A-Rep Grijalva’s first official act as a member of the House to add her name to that discharge petition? oh fuck yes, it was.
Grijalva signed the petition on the House floor immediately after being sworn in as Democrats in the chamber cheered and two Epstein survivors looked on from the gallery.
Once the petition is locked at 218 votes it cannot be unlocked.
that shit’s set in stone now. it’s too late for Handy — or the panty inspector — to have second thoughts.
as for the actual vote on the bill to release the files,
Later on Wednesday, Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) said that he would bring the Epstein bill for a vote in the House next week — a move that amounts to ripping the band-aid off a vote that neither Johnson nor President Trump wanted.
oh god oh god oh god, if I’m still dreaming, don’t you fucking dare wake me up.
Reporter: “can you respond to these Epstein emails that were released today?”
Donny: [gives no answer]
so let’s give the final word to Rotting Stevie Three-Shirts, because he is sodesperate to change the subject right now.
“BANNON: Trump’s not perfect; he’s an imperfect instrument, but one infused by divine providence. Without him, we’d have nothing. So stay focused. This is 12 o’clock high; we’re on a bombing run. Don’t lose sight of the mission.”
cry harder, Rotty Steve.
tick fucking tock.
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.
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.
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:
“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?
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
If the Democrats don’t use this top photo in midterm ads far and wide there’s no hope for them…
‘look for the helpers.’
those are the sage words of Mister Rogers. it’s what his mother always told him, he said, when as a child he would see scary things in the news. ‘look for the helpers. you will always find people who are helping.’
it’s true. when scary stuff goes down, there are always helpers.
but do you know what else you’ll find, when shit goes sideways? some demented fuckbag who stands around and does nothing, because he absolutely could not care one iota about helping.
which brings us to the photo at the top of this post.
yesterday, Donny made a great show of announcing that he’d reached a concept of a sketch for a framework for lowering the price of weight-loss drugs.
the whole thing could have been a press release, or an email, but it wasn’t — because for the bottomless well of need in the White House, everything has to be a spectacle. this announcement had to be a made-for-TV production, where big, strong, teary-eyed pharmaceutical executives take turns praising Dear Leader for being the greatest sketcher of frameworks of all time. ‘sir! sir! you framework those concepts like no one thought possible! how do you do it? sir!’
look, lowering the price of weight-loss drugs is all well and good, but our nation has more pressing needs right now. for instance, how about Preznit Fuckwit pays out those SNAP benefits, as he’s been court-ordered to — because 43 million Americans are already losing weight through a thing called the I Can’t Afford To Buy Food Diet.
anyway, Donny dragged a bunch of Big Pharma honchos — along with the Healthcare Morons, Bobby Brainworms and the Shitblizzard of Oz — into the Oval Bordello to participate in his dog and pony show.
when the Shitblizzard of Oz stepped up to the mic to drown us in a blizzard of bullshit, Donny did what he always does when someone else is talking: he fell fast asleep.
did our favorite narcoleptic fart factory fill the room, as is his trademark move, with the pungent aroma of ass music? we’ll never know — but the thing that happened next is that some dude behind Donny passed out and fell to the floor.
did you notice what Bobby Brainworms did? he booked it out of the room, pronto. maybe to alert the White House medical staff, or maybe to get his chainsaw — because you never know when a head may need to be separated from a body.
but more importantly — as everyone else in the room rushed over to do whatever they could — here’s what our Helper-in-Chief did: jack shit.
oh sure, he spent a couple of seconds staring vaguely at what was going on, but then he stood up, faced forward with vacant eyes — the lights were on but no one was home — and froze.
it would have been the perfect moment for some reporter to have finally — at long last — won the What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™ (which is now in its 2,047th day).
oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting Donny to do something? oh please, he’s not going to help. helping is what commies do.
there’s Donny’s entire existence, summed up in one photograph: he doesn’t care.
he doesn’t care about you or me. he doesn’t care about unemployed government workers. he doesn’t care about hungry families, or teargassed children, or Americans disappeared into slave-labor gulags, or Venezuelan fishermen blown out of the water, or priests shot in the face by ICE goons.
he doesn’t even care about a crony who fell to the ground not four feet away him.
Donny only cares about himself, and about glomming all the money, all the power, and all the attention. and, as always, We the People are cordially invited to go fuck ourselves.
and, because Donny’s demented pudding-brain has gone fuckity-bye, he’s too befuddled to realize that he needs to pretend to care. he just stands there like a useless bump, lost in an ever-thickening fog of confusion. is Donny even aware of what’s going on around him?
it was just another day of disgrace and buffoonery from our disgraceful buffoon president.
oh, and because we live in the dumbest possible timeline, where everything has to end up as a sideshow of clownfuckery, Newsmax had to assure their low-wattage viewers that Dear Leader was never in any danger. from what? collateral faintage?
“President Trump, we want to be clear, is okay.”
thanks for clearing that up. we were sleepless with worry.
dude’s so cool, calm and collected that he even has a quip at the ready:
“this happens when I talk too long.”
this is why Donny hates Obama — because he’s everything Donny isn’t. Donny will never be cool, calm and collected, and he knows it.
boo fucking hoo.
here are your heroes of the day: the members of the jury who acquitted Sandwich Guy.
Holstein cow cosplayer and America’s Tipsiest US Attorney, Jeanine Boxwine, was super fucking horny to make an example out of the guy who lobbed a sandwich at a border patrol agent in DC.
after a grand jury refused to indict Sandwich Guy for felony assault — because let’s get real, Jeanine, it was a fucking sandwich — she charged the guy with a misdemeanor, and wasted taxpayer money on a pointless trial.
The officer Sandwich Guy is charged with assaulting testifies that he could feel the impact of the sandwich through his ballistic vest, and it “exploded all over my uniform.” He says he could “smell the onions and the mustard.”
what a harrowing experience indeed, to feel the impact and smell the onionsand the mustard. oh, the humanity!
but wait, the video tells a very different story: one about a definitely unexploded sandwich that bounced off the officer and lay intact on the ground.
We’re back to the sandwich video. The paper, the defense points out, is still on. “You don’t see there’s mustard on it?” “You can’t tell there’s ketchup on it?” Mayonnaise? Lettuce? Tomato? “In fact, that sandwich hasn’t exploded at all?” Witness says the sandwich “looks bent and out of shape.”
so, what was it? an exploded sandwich or an unexploded one? wait, what if it were both?oh my god, people, we have Schroedinger’s Sandwich.
in the end, the jury served up a big slice of Fuck You Pie to Jeanine Boxwine, and acquitted Sandwich Guy of the single charge of Assault with a Deadly Sandwich.
because let’s get real, everyone — it was a fucking sandwich. wake up and smell the mustard and the onions.
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.
they won the races they were supposed to win, they won the races that were supposed to be a tossup — and they even won the shit they weren’t supposed to win.
let’s take a look at some of the highlights.
the big three, of course, were Abigail Spanberger for Governor of Virginia, Zorhan Mamdani for Mayor of New York City, and Mikie Sherrill for Governor of New Jersey.
Spanberger totally fucking crushed her Republican opponent, Winsome Earle-Sears, winning by 15 points. Sherrill beat Jack Ciattarelli by 13 points, in a race that the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press swore to us was going to be a nail-biter, too close to call. awesome prognosticating, scribblers.
and over in the Marxist-socialist-communist hellscape that is now New York City, Mamdani beat toxic sexpest Andrew Cuomo by 9 points.
really weird how Donny Convict’s last-minute endorsement of Cuomo failed to move the needle. maybe it has something to do with the fact that NYC has fucking loathed Donny for at least fifty years now.
“Q: It’s election day in NYC. Did you vote for Mamdani or Cuomo?
Schumer: ‘Look, I voted, and I look forward to working with the next mayor to help NYC.’”
and can we please, at long last, finally see the last of Andrew Cuomo? why did this repellent predator want to be mayor of NYC, anyway? was he that triggered by the presence of a Muslim in New York politics?
how is it that someone who had to resign their governorship in disgrace is then allowed to run for any other office?
the passing of Prop 50 in California was a huge fucking win, allowing the Dem-controlled Legislature to draw new congressional maps for the next three election cycles.
preserving the Democratic majority of Pennsylvania’s Supreme Court is going to go a long way towards preventing any Republican electoral fuckery in PA in 2026 and 2028.
know when the last time one Democrat won a statewide election in Georgia, let alone two? twenty-five years ago.
here’s a delicious morsel of news. in Cincinnati, Couchfuck McGee’s half-brother Cory Bowman, who was running for mayor, got the shit landslided out of him.
MAGA is melting all the way down. you have to love a good Republican civil war, don’t you? right now it’s the total crazies vs the semi-crazies, and I am here for all of it.
don’t threaten us with a good time, Mark Cernovich.
the lesson in all this for Donny and his Republican enablers is that none of their fuckery is popular.
We the People don’t want masked and armed Gestapo thugs terrorizing our neighborhoods and teargassing our children. We the People don’t want incoherent economic policies that send prices ever upwards. We the People don’t want a broken government that works only for billionaires.
We the People don’t want an unhinged and deteriorating 34-count narcoleptic fart factory ruling over us. yesterday’s election results made that clear.
President Pudding Cup wasn’t on the ballot, but yesterday’s election was a referendum on his presidency — and the results were not pretty for him.
will Republicans learn anything from the drubbing they took yesterday? of course fucking not. expect them to double down on the lunacy — and the oppression. it’s all they know how to do.
we’ve got battles ahead of us that will need to be taken on, and won.
but for today, let’s congratulate ourselves. tomorrow we return to the fight.
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.
here’s a fun thought experiment. what you do you imagine would happen if you took a deteriorating dotard in poor health and cognitive decline, flew him to the other side of the world and subjected him to a series of high-stakes meetings and ceremonies?
that’s just embarrassing. the squirrel inside Donny’s head gets repeatedly distracted by some shiny object, and Japan’s Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi has to keep taking him by the hand and guiding him to where he’s supposed to go.
does Donny seem drugged to you? is he on something? this is our diminished president, folks.
“Why didn’t you share the full video, dumbass?” the official White House Rapid Response 47 account replied to X user Acyn, along with a longer version of the event.
Yet their video showed Takaichi doing more guiding of Trump.
hang on, White House Rapid Response, we can do better than ‘sharing the full video.’ we can show you a longer clip from a different angle, and holy fuckballs, Batman — it’s worse.
(sorry for the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme music, folks. this was the only clip I could find online.)
Christ on a corn cob, Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants hasn’t the slightest clue what planet he’s on. seriously, subjecting this goofus to days of events halfway around the world is just elder abuse at this point.
Preznit Fuckwit should be enjoying a pudding cup in some assisted living facility, not representing our country on the world stage.
do you know why the White House immediately cried ‘deceptive video’? because, as always with these shitweasels, every accusation is a confession.
reporter: “did you get an MRI?” Donny: “I did, I got an MRI. it was perfect. I mean, I gave you— I gave you the full results. we had an MR— an MRI, and uh, the machine, the whole thing. and it was perfect.”
oh, it was perfect, was it? were the doctors big and strong? did they have tears in their eyes as they went ‘sir! sir! no one has ever had such a perfect brain. how do you do it? sir!’
here’s why this should have been front-page news: MRIs are never ever part of a routine checkup. you’re only given one if doctors think something is seriously wrong with you.
but don’t just take my word for it. let’s hear from an actual doctor — Dr. Jonathan Reiner, who was Dick Cheney’s cardiologist and is currently a professor at George Washington University.
Reiner told CNN that an MRI is never part of a routine check-up.
“An MRI is never part of a routine evaluation, whether you’re president of the United States or whether you’re just a civilian,” he said.
oh. huh. tell us more, doc.
Dr. Jonathan Reiner told CNN there is a laundry list of reasons Trump’s doctors may have requested a scan, and that he believes the White House owes it to the public to say what that reason was.
“Typically, they’re prompted by symptoms,” Reiner said of MRIs. “They can be neurologic symptoms that prompt an MRI.”
what we see in this clip is pretty fucking alarming — because holy shit, it appears to show Sleepy Brandon wandering off and giving a thumbs-up to nobody — and needing to be fetched back to reality by Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni.
if your ‘I’ll bet that was deceptively edited’ alarm just went off, congratulations — because what the uncropped video showed was Joe Biden turning to talk to the parachutists.
nonetheless, the press had a field day with the RNC’s edited video.
and we all got treated to one more news cycle of Joe Biden is old and icky and smells bad and is probably already dead and is too demented to know it.
fuck these lying Republican fucks, and fuck the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled media for falling for this shit over and over.
Republicans had to fake ‘evidence’ of Joe’s ‘impairment’ — but nobody has to fake anything about Donny Convict’s obvious decline. all you have to do is open your eyes and look.
hey Jake Tapper, any comment on the fact that Donny couldn’t walk from one end of a room to the other without getting lost?
I thought so.
meanwhile, during a yammer session with reporters aboard Fuckface Force One, President Yap Yap made a confession that should have been the top story on every channel, but of course wasn’t: that he’d undergone an MRI during his so-called ‘routine medical checkup’ at Walter Reed a couple of weeks ago.
reporter: “did you get an MRI?” Donny: “I did, I got an MRI. it was perfect. I mean, I gave you— I gave you the full results. we had an MR— an MRI, and uh, the machine, the whole thing. and it was perfect.”
oh, it was perfect, was it? were the doctors big and strong? did they have tears in their eyes as they went ‘sir! sir! no one has ever had such a perfect brain. how do you do it? sir!’
here’s why this should have been front-page news: MRIs are never ever part of a routine checkup. you’re only given one if doctors think something is seriously wrong with you.
but don’t just take my word for it. let’s hear from an actual doctor — Dr. Jonathan Reiner, who was Dick Cheney’s cardiologist and is currently a professor at George Washington University.
Reiner told CNN that an MRI is never part of a routine check-up.
“An MRI is never part of a routine evaluation, whether you’re president of the United States or whether you’re just a civilian,” he said.
oh. huh. tell us more, doc.
Dr. Jonathan Reiner told CNN there is a laundry list of reasons Trump’s doctors may have requested a scan, and that he believes the White House owes it to the public to say what that reason was.
“Typically, they’re prompted by symptoms,” Reiner said of MRIs. “They can be neurologic symptoms that prompt an MRI.”
“they have Jasmine Crockett, a low-IQ person. they have, uhhhh— AOC, she’s low-IQ. you give her a— an IQ test— have her pass, like, the exams that I decided to take when I was at Walter Reed. those are very hard, uh, they’re really aptitude tests, I guess, in a certain way, but they’re cognitive tests. let AOC go against Trump. let Jasmine go against Trump. I don’t think g— Jasmine— the first couple of questions are easy. a tiger, an elephant, a giraffe. when you get up to five or six and then when you get up to twenty and twenty-five— they couldn’t come close to answering any of those questions.”
for fuck’s sake, Donny. for the hundredth time, the Montreal Cognitive Assessment is not an IQ test, or an aptitude test. it’s a test of whether or not your brain is leaking out of your ears.
twenty percent of the test is literally pointing at a drawing of a camel.
as with the MRI, they don’t administer the Montreal Cognitive Assessment as part of any routine check up. Donny keeps having to take this test because doctors suspect that something is seriously fucked inside his big dumb pumpkin head.
here’s why we should all be alarmed: we now know that when Donny went to Walter Reed, they gave him both an MRI and a cognitive test. you know who gets those two tests together? stroke victims, that’s who.
all the evidence points to Donny having had a recent stroke — and the White House is covering that up. add to that the cankles, and the rotting hand, and fact that Donny couldn’t walk from one end of a room to the other without help. the only logical conclusion one can reach is that Donny is unfit for office.
and, as always, the White House won’t tell us shit. everything — EVERY FUCKING THING — is being covered up.
how about that, Jake Tapper. anything to say?
by the way, I have a theory about why Donny keeps yammering about how Crockett or AOC couldn’t pass the Montreal Cognitive Assessment. remember: with Donny, every accusation is a confession.
President Pudding Cup failed the fucking thing, didn’t he. they asked him to remember five random words, and he couldn’t. his drawing of a clock looked like a monkey fucking a coconut. he failed, and he knows it, and that why he has to keep talking about how hard it is — to convince himself that nobody could have passed it.
and, as always, none of this is normal — and all of it is embarrassing.
oh, and have I mentioned lately that AOC is a national treasure?
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.
This week’s Big Distraction from Releasing the Epstein Files is brought to you by the Destruction of the East Wing of the White House. (Sponsored by Meta, Google, and many, many more.)
It appears that the “designated excuse” that was issued to supporters is that “other presidents have also made updates to the White House, especially Obama, (who they breathlessly can’t wait to point out that he installed a basketball court, as if it were a watermelon garden.)
Every argument I’ve seen supporting this demolition has been rife with lies. They equate one renovation with another, like tearing down an entire wing with putting some lines on a basketball court, or spending “millions” to “replace a few pipes,” when in reality, an entire rewiring was needed and authorized, for safety reasons.
Yes, other presidents have made alterations. I’ve seen the list. You can knock off about half of them (pre-Roosevelt) because they go all the way back to George Washington. The White House wasn’t exactly a historical landmark yet; it was just the place they had just built for the president to live.
And yes, Roosevelt made major renovations. But he also obtained the necessary approvals.
As have other presidents who followed. A law was passed in 1971 that established the approvals needed. At this point, the White House is a historical landmark/museum, so there is a process in place to go through before altering it. All preceding renovations have followed the established process. There are at least five different reviews required, including environmental impact, preservation of important relics/materials, and Congressional approval.
TFG has done none of that. He lied about his intentions and sent in the bulldozers. At first, the East Wing wasn’t going to be touched. That changed to they might take a little off the end, but do no major harm. And by now, we can see that that was 100% bullshit, because the East Wing is gone. Just, gone.
I also understand that this wing was built when asbestos was the standard in fireproofing. Tearing it down might well unleash a torrent of cancer and serious breathing problems, because there has been no mitigation of airborne particles at all. The whole building should have been netted off before destruction, but TFG doesn’t believe in environmental safety (just as long as it’s someone else who’s suffering for it.)
One angle I haven’t seen yet is the fact that the First Lady’s staff operated out of the East Wing. I know the current First Lady wants nothing to do with the role, but this action affects every subsequent First Lady and their staff. They will literally have no office from which to work. Granted, that may suit future MAGA administrations just fine, as they prefer the little wives to stay busy creating and tending to more babies rather than to worry their pretty little heads about doing any work from an office.
His apologists try to bring up the fact that it’s being paid for by the private sector. That does not relieve my suspicions at all. That just means that the Grift House is open for business. If you’ve seen the list of “donors,” you can see that just about everyone has had or will have business before the administration. “You want your project approved by my government, you have to pay.”
They might as well call it the Olde Quid Pro Quo Room.
Now, when all this started to bubble up, my first thought was, “Why would he care so much about a mere ballroom? The White House has been hosting fancy dinners for foreign dignitaries for decades. Why not just put up a couple of giant portraits of the would-be king, himself, slap some gold shit around the edges, and call it a day?”
No, there had to be more. Since he was having it all rebuilt from scratch, I figured there would have to be some secret “special rooms,” something he’d need to be off the books. Something like a protective bunker, something built with today’s best tech, where he could hide out indefinitely, all the while being able to surveil his domain and keep track of what’s being shown on TV. Maybe even have a studio in there from where he could get himself onto Fox and Friends. He could install a special safe to hold the Epstein files that only he could access. And, of course, his own McDonald’s.
Then over the weekend, posts began to appear on social media describing that very thing. What I didn’t know was that the East Wing was already home to the existing emergency bunker, from which he hid out during various riots and uprisings.
Now it all made sense. He knows he’s about to screw with the next elections (if not postpone them indefinitely) and that it would be too unpopular, even with Republicans. He’d need a place to ride out the storm, but in the style with which he is accustomed. (“Bring in some more gold shit! And let’s set up that hotline to McDonald’s!”) He’ll also need it to be impenetrable, so that neither angry mobs nor his own disgruntled troops could easily drag him out of it.
I hope the next non-MAGA president, whenever that will come to pass, will make it his mission on Day One to knock that fucking thing down and build something proper. Something fun and useful. Something everyone can get behind. Like… the People’s Taco Bar! Step right up and have a taco. Unlimited toppings, too! Whether a tourist, local resident, or homeless veteran, free tacos for everyone. Maybe some soft-serve for dessert, too.
At least, it will serve a worthy purpose rather than appease a spoiled child’s ego.
that’s all, folks. it’s over and done. the once-stately East Wing of the White House has been completely reduced to a pile of rubble.
here’s another thing that’s now a pile of rubble: our Constitution. masked ICE thugs trample over it every day on the streets of our cities.
want more rubble? just look at our tariff and trade policies, and our relationships with our allies. they can’t trust us to be honest — or even coherent — about anything.
does any sane person believe any of the fairy tales our government has been spewing about the fishing boats they’ve been blowing up, without providing one scrap of evidence? our credibility is also a pile of rubble.
hey, you know what else is a pile of rubble? Preznit Fuckwit’s poll numbers — because everything fucking sucks right now, and none of this shit is popular.
Harry Enten: “Donald Trump’s doing absolutely awful in the minds of the American people. what are we talking about? we’re talking about new lows for Donald Trump. he’s hit new lows for himself. Trump’s economic net approval rating hits lows with these pollsters. CNBC, look at this: down now minus 13 points in the net approval rating on the economy. you come to this side of the screen, it’s minus 19 points among Quinnipiac, and keep in mind, we’re talking about hitting record lows for Donald Trump in either his first term or his second term. the bottom line is that Donald Trump is at the lowest point ever in either of his terms…. Donald Trump is beating himself in the way you don’t want to beat yourself: record lows.”
Preznit Fuckwit is the least-popular president since Preznit Fuckwit.
Donny’s been praising himself to high heaven these days, bragging about how the price of everything has gone down by all the percents. thousands, maybe even millions. low prices like no one thought possible. sir! sir! how do you do it?
Donny can lie all he wants, but his pungent mouth-farts only float so far. people still have to go shopping. they know first hand that the price of everything has been skyrocketing lately.
“Look away! New: US Secret Service has closed access to the Ellipse park where journalists had been capturing live images of the East Wing demolition. CNN had a photojournalist capturing live images of the demolition at the time. Reuters was also ushered out of the park.”
what a good look for this fascist administration, closing a public park and ejecting the press. they really don’t want We the People to find out what they’ve been doing to our House, do they?
gone. just fucking gone. all that beauty, all that history.
destroyed, just so that a broken-inside narcissist can build his tscky dance hall for billionaires.
what a fucking travesty.
our next Democratic president is going to have a lot of cleanup work to do — but one of the many things they must campaign on is a vow to put all this shit back the way it was before Cankles McRottinghand assaulted it. not just the Epstein Ballroom, but also the parking lot where our beloved Rose Garden used to be.
tell me, does Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants’ inability to remember who he’s pardoned lately make his ass seem demented?
Kaitlin Collins: “today you pardoned the founded of Binance. can you explain why you chose to pardon him, and did it have anything to do with his involvement in—”
Donny: “who is that?”
Collins: “the founder of Binance. he has an involvement in—”
Donne: “the recent one? yes, the— uh— I believe we’re talking about the same— because I do pardon a lot of people. uh, I don’t know. he was recommended by a lot of people. a lot of people say that— are you talking about the crypto person? uh, a lot of people say that he wasn’t guilty of anything, and he served four months in jail. they say that, uh, he was not guilty of anything. what he did— well, you don’t know much about crypto. you know nothing about— you know nothing about nothing, you fake news.”
Donny’s such a charmer, isn’t he?
come on, media, be fair. Donny’s been springing a shitload of convicted criminals from prison. how can you expect him to keep them all straight?
imagine that a reporter had asked Joe Biden about someone he’d pardoned, and his answer was ‘fuck if I know, I just sign whatever they put in front of me.’
Jake Tapper would have spontaneously orgasmed right then and there, and started writing ten new books. but have you heard a peep out of him now?
The pardon of Zhao, widely known as CZ, came two months after The Wall Street Journal reported that the Trump family’s own crypto venture, which has generated about $4.5 billion since the 2024 election, has been helped by “a partnership with an under-the-radar trading platform quietly administered by Binance.”
oh, was that wrong?
because Donny has to plead ignorance on this thing. because if anyone had said anything at all to him when he first started here that that sort of thing was frowned upon…
I’m so old, I remember when Tricky Dick’s veep, Spiro Agnew, resigned after he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Spiro’s crime was bribery and tax evasion, to the tune of twenty nine thousand dollars. seriously, that’s all? twenty-nine large? that’s chicken feed. Tom Homan won’t even pick up the phone for less than fifty.
but Spiro’s real crime was being born fifty years too soon. if he was around today, Donny would pardon him in a heartbeat — and then completely forget who Spiro was, and get pissy with the first reporter to ask him about it.
twenty-nine grand. what a laughably minuscule sum. Donny’s ripping us off for billions — and he’s pardoning all of his accomplices.
“they’ve even now started imitating me, of all people. the want to imitate me, and they start using foul language. but they use too much of it. you can’t use the f-word seven times in one sentence. it doesn’t work. it might work once every seven news conferences, but you can’t do it— you can’t do it seven times in one sentence.”
fuck you, you fucking fuck. don’t you fucking tell me how fucking often I can fucking say fuck.
dude, am I right?
here’s your hero of the day: Polka Dot Lady.
a couple of days ago, masked ICE thugs showed up in lower Manhattan to round up Chinese street vendors who were guilty of the dastardly crime of selling cheap knock-offs — and our anonymous hero was having none of it. apparently out for a lunch-hour stroll, she saw what was going on, and she was all this fuckery ends now.
Polka Dot Lady, whoever you are, wherever you are — we salute 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.
as a team of backhoes reduces the White House’s East Wing to rubble, a second set of much tinier backhoes is at work inside Preznit Fuckwit’s head, reducing the east wing of his brain to rubble.
as a team of backhoes reduces the White House’s East Wing to rubble, a second set of much tinier backhoes is at work inside Preznit Fuckwit’s head, reducing the east wing of his brain to rubble.
“and I will say this, we have Darth Vader. you know Darth Vader, right? Darth Vader is a man who, uh, I think he’s sitting, right? is that Darth? stand up please, Darth Va— stand up. does everybody know— this is— they call him Darth Vader, I call him a fine man. but he’s cutting Democrat priorities and they’re never gonna get them back.”
Donny has no idea that Darth Vader is the bad guy, does he?
apparently Star Wars is some kind of Shakespearean tragedy for Donny, where the awesomest hombre in the galaxy keeps getting defeated.
anyway, the ‘Darth Vader’ who Donny was encouraging to ‘stand up,’ is, of course, Russ Vought, the architect of Project 2025 who is now Director of the Office of Management and Budget. Russ has been hard at work hollowing out government to the point where it no longer functions. he’s also been, as Donny was proud to point out, ‘cutting Democrat priorities.’
you know, ‘Democrat’ priorities, like ‘healthcare should be affordable,’ and ‘food and drugs should be inspected.’ just wait until the cultists discover that cutting all that shit affects them, too.
apparently, after Vought’s wife left him in 2023, America’s Poon-Hound-in-Chief made it his mission in life to get Russ laid. ‘come down to Motel-a-Lago,’ Donny urged him, ‘you’ll be drowning in snatch.’
apparently, after Vought’s wife left him in 2023, America’s Poon-Hound-in-Chief made it his mission in life to get Russ laid. ‘come down to Motel-a-Lago,’ Donny urged him, ‘you’ll be drowning in snatch.’
“Trump spoke to Vought, a self-described Christian nationalist who’s now one of the president’s most hardline enforcers, about the ‘gorgeous’ and ‘beautiful ladies’ who roam Trump’s club, Mar-a-Lago, so often that it ‘weirded out’ some of his advisers,” sources told Zeteo.
“And Trump spoke crudely of all the ‘pussy’ that Vought would surely get as the president’s favorite ‘bachelor.’”
yes, I know. I just had the same reaction you did.
come on, Russ — how could you resist the Sirens of Motel-a-Lago?
“the great George Washington, all the way to— [pauses as his mind goes blank] well, I think we have to rate him above me. so, less than great. less than George. as somebody went up the other day, they say, ‘you’re the third-best president of the Uni—’ this was on television, ‘third best.’ and they said who are the first two? ‘George Washington and Abraham Lincoln,’ and I got extremely angry at this man, heh heh, you know? you can’t— it’s— it’s gonna be— it’s gonna be tough to beat [gestures] Mister Senator, it’s gonna be— John, it’s gonna be very tough to beat Washington and Lincoln, but we’re gonna give it a try, right? hey, they didn’t put out eight wars, nine coming. all right, we put out eight wars, and the ninth is coming, believe it or not.”
let’s set aside this fever swamp hallucination, where Donny actually believes he deserves the Nobel Bestest President Ever Prize for “putting out” eight (now nine) wars. (fact check: fuck off.)
instead, let’s focus on how Donny’s brain has gone fuckity-bye. listen to him ramble incoherently, and struggle to finish a single sentence without losing his train of thought.
this is the clownish figurehead they put in front of the camera to distract us all with his dog-and-pony show, while Stephen Miller and Russ Vought and all the other sewer clowns run around in the background and do the actual work of fucking our country into oblivion.
everyone knows this. it’s the worst-kept secret in Washington.
meanwhile, every Republican Senator present at Donny’s Parking Lot Club luncheon, and every reporter watching from the wings, sits there with a grin frozen on their face, and pretends that all of this is normal, and acts like nothing’s wrong.
hey, why should they complain? when the whole thing was over, they all got cool swag bags full of Trump-branded merch as a parting gift.
what did We the People get? fucked, that’s what. and not in the Russ-Vought-at-Motel-a-Lago way.
lucky us.
it’s Day Two of the desecration of the East Wing. remember how Donny swore that construction of his vulgar dance hall wouldn’t affect the East Wing at all?
well, here’s the latest photo from yesterday, and it sure looks like they’re going to demolish the whole fucking thing.
these photos we’re getting are coming from people inside the Treasury Building, which is right next door to the East Wing. Treasury employees have a front-row seat to the travesty going on.
naturally, when Donny found out that these photos were going viral and horrifying the shit out of everyone, he reacted in the most Donny way possible: by screaming ‘off with their heads!’
WASHINGTON—The Treasury Department instructed employees not to share photos of the demolition of parts of the White House’s East Wing after images of construction equipment dismantling the facade of the building went viral online.
“As construction proceeds on the White House grounds, employees should refrain from taking and sharing photographs of the grounds, to include the East Wing, without prior approval from the Office of Public Affairs,” a Treasury official wrote on Monday evening in an email to department employees viewed by The Wall Street Journal.
sure, why not? let’s just cover everything up.
you want to see Donny’s medical records? go fuck yourself. ok, how about the Epstein Files? go fuck yourself.
and now, a new one for the list. you want to track the wanton destruction of the House that belongs not to Donny, but to We the People?
go fuck yourself.
meanwhile, it’s been 29 days since Arizona’s Adelita Grijalva was elected to Congress — and the limpest dick in Washington, Holy Mike Johnson, is still refusing to swear her in.
everyone knows why, of course: she’s the 218th and deciding ‘yes’ vote on Tom Massie’s discharge petition that would force the release of the Donny’s Dead Pedo Bestie files.
Holy Mike’s getting super fucking pissed off, because this obvious farce has reached the point where every time he goes out in public. it’s the first thing reporters pester him about.
“suddenly now, they’ve somehow convinced themselves that the [makes air-quotes] Epstein files will be damaging to President Trump and Republicans in some way that they’ve imagined, and so they feign outrage.”
you gotta love Holy’s Mike’s air quotes around ‘Epstein files.’ what’s your implication here, Mike, that we’re making the whole thing up?
you know why we’re so convinced that the Epstein files are damaging to Donny? it’s because Republicans are trying so hard to keep them covered up. fucking duh, man. this isn’t rocket science.
every time Holy Mike opens his weaselly lying mouth, he just digs himself deeper. what are you hiding, bro?
hold on — Comer Fudd, the rake-steppingest shitwit in Congress, wants a turn at the mic. for some ungodly reason, he’s super hot to embarrass himself in public again.
“let’s be clear, Democrats don’t care about transparency or accountability in this matter. the evidence we’ve gathered does not implicate President Trump in any way. public reporting, survivor testimony, and official documents show that Bill Clinton had far closer ties to Epstein. we’re working to bring former President Clinton in for a deposition, but the Democrats aren’t helping one bit.”
oh, bull fucking shit.
if the dead pedo bestie files truly exonerate Donny, then release them. show the whole world just how innocent he is.
oh, you won’t? then you must be covering something up, fuck-o.
you gotta love how Republicans imagine that ‘Bill Clinton is in the files’ is some kind of ‘game over, man’ gotcha.
you goddamn well know that if there were juicy dirt on Bill Clinton, Bill Barr would have released all of it five years ago, and Hannity would still be reading it out loud on Fox News every single night.
but let’s say the farts coming out of Comer’s mouth are true, and that Bill Clinton is implicated in the Epstein Files.
fine. bring him in. depose him. put him on trial.
if Bill Clinton committed crimes, lock him the fuck up. he and Donny can be cellmates, for all we care.
‘blah blah blah blah Bill Clinton’ means nothing to us. investigate the shit out of him.
here’s what Comer and all these Republican puke-weasels can’t understand: we’re not in a cult.
we don’t worship a Dear Leader who must be protected at all times. everyone who got up to sick shit on Epstein Island needs to be held accountable. release the files, and let the chips fall where they may.
release the full, unedited Epstein files, you fucking fucks.
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.
