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let’s start off with a bang. ladies and gents, I give you the winner of the Nobel Best Sign At No Kings Day Prize.

it’s Wonkette’s own Rebecca Schoenkopf — because once you’ve said what Rebecca’s said, what else is left?

folks, we did it.

an estimated seven million of us gathered peacefully coast to coast, to rise up as one and convey a singular message: fuck you, you fucking fuck — you’re not our king.

wait, did I say coast to coast? no, it was the entire world telling Donny Convict to fuck straight off.

folks showed up in South Korea.

and Geneva.

also in London.

holy shit, there was even one homey who parked himself in front of the US embassy in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia.

dude, you fucking rule.

meanwhile, back here in the US of A, the crowds were ginormous. check out Boston.

of course, Boston is in the major leagues when it comes to protesting. they’ve been perfecting this shit since 1773.

here’s Chicago.

and here’s Los Angeles

n Washington DC, folks carried a gigantic copy of the US Constitution down Pennsylvania Ave.

Times Square in New York City.

holy shit, look at Pittsburgh.

and look at Charlotte, North Carolina.

it wasn’t just blue states. check out Salt Lake City, in deeply-red Utah.

and it wasn’t just big cities. Highlands, North Carolina, is a tiny town of only a thousand people. an estimated six hundred of them showed up to give Donny a well-earned finger.

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the worst people in the world were so horny to paint No Kings Day as some kind of mass terror event, organized by some imaginary ‘pro-Hamas wing of the Democrat™ Party,’ whatever the fuck that is, and paid for everyone’s favorite wealthy Jew.

check out the full-time podcast bro Fidel Cancun.

Ted Cruz: Follow the money. You look at this No Kings rally—there’s considerable evidence that George Soros is behind funding these rallies which may well turn into riots.

hey, did you know that Ted Cruz has a side hustle as a US Senator? I know, I was shocked when I found out, too. I thought all he did was podcast, and put his unctuous werewolf face on Fox News.

anyway, here’s a fact check for Teddy C: fuck off.

Ted, you odious dumbfuck. do you actually think George Soros is cutting seven million paychecks for the protesters? I have a question: is Soros withholding taxes and issuing 1099s, or do we need to be keeping track of that shit ourselves? is an inflatable frog costume a deductible business expense?

fuck me, did I even remember to save the receipts?

I sure hope Hamas appreciates what these frolicking dinosaurs in Chicagoare doing to further their cause.

here’s an additional fact check for Ted and his claim of ‘widespread rioting’: piss up all the ropes

The majority of the No Kings protests have dispersed at this time and all traffic closures have been lifted. We had more than 100,000 people across all five boroughs peacefully exercising their first amendment rights and the NYPD made zero protest-related arrests.

New York City: zero arrests.

now let’s contrast that to what happened on Yes Kings Day, when a bunch of crybabies went ape-shit because they couldn’t deal with Dear Leader being a loser.

what was it that Ted and his ilk called these cop-beating fuckfaces? oh right: tourists blowing off steam.

let’s see if anyone got arrested closer to Ted Cruz’s home city of Austin.

Thank you to everyone who participated in the No Kings March today. The rally remained peaceful, with no arrests reported. We’re grateful to our community and event organizers for coming together to make sure voices were heard safely and respectfully. Great job ATX!

sorry, Ted. nada.

oh wait, there was one arrest of a protester. a woman in a penis costume got nailed in Fairhope, Alabama, for ‘lewd conduct.’ great use of your time, Fairhope cops. you’re doing the lord’s work.

and some dipshit in a Trump shirt got arrested for pulling out a gun at a protest in Myrtle Beach, FL.

so for those of you keeping score at home, it’s
— ginormous penis, 1
— MAGA asshole, 1
— seven million peaceful protesters, 0

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Fox News is cordially invited to go fuck themselves. they spent the day trying to convince their credulous dolt audience that America was burning to the ground.

that’s all they have: lies. they know that the dopes glued to their TVs won’t even bother to look out their windows.

oh wait, America’s self-appointed Bathroom Panty Inspector has something to say.

words, what do they even mean, am I right, Nancy?

what was Nancy Mace even doing, tweeting during a day of widespread chaos and mayhem? she should have stationed herself in front of some porta-potty, so make sure no transgendered dinosaurs committed any crimes against nature.

fuck those fucking fucks. it’s time for some more heroes.

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Michelangelo Signorile on Bluesky

credit: freemark7 on Bluesky

credit: Betty Bowers on Bluesky

credit: Stephanie J. on Bluesky

credit: Aaron Rupar on Bluesky

credit: Bill Kristol on Bluesky

credit: Subodh Chandra on Threads

it’s funny, but I didn’t see one sign today that said ‘I love Hitler’ — I guess that shit’s only for unfuckable incel Republicans.

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check out what the doughiest pantload ever to shit himself in the Oval Office farted out onto his failing app. it’s AI-generated slop of him, wearing a fucking crown, flying a fighter jet over protesters and dumping literal shit on them.

how mature.

fuck off, Donny.

was this dumbfuck video supposed to own libs? it should come with a warning label: no libs were owned by the distribution of this infantile twaddle.

this isn’t even conduct unbecoming of a president — it’s conduct unbecoming of anyone over the age of two.

wasn’t it just a little while ago that this deteriorating fuckwit got flummoxed by an escalator that turned into stairs? keep dreaming your little dreams of fighter-pilot glory, you insignificant, spiteful homunculus. we’re all laughing at you.

you’re not our king. you’re a very naughty boy. now go away.

and could our media please stop failing us?

no, it wasn’t ‘brown liquid’ — it was shit. just come out and say it.

oh, and New York Times: it wasn’t ‘thousands of protesters’ — try MILLIONS.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

let’s wrap this up with a palate cleanser. here’s Rebecca Schoenkopf again — because hers is a sign so nice, I’m using it twice.

have a great Sunday, everyone. you’ve earned it.

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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.

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I’m taking a break. I’m not saying I won’t be posting anything for a while (because we all know that’s impossible) but I’m definitely going to be cutting back.

Everything is fine; I just can’t any more.

Stay tuned.

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Tomorrow is another No Kings protest. Don’t give ICE or Guardsmen any excuse to rile things up. Then urge your local organizers to plan the next one for protesting the Congressional Cowards who are allowing the Regime to get away with all the unconstitutional bullshit.

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I can’t tell you how many times this has appeared in my nightmares.

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Other than not using metal hurricane tie downs and other common US construction techniques, why isn’t this used here? Looks extremely sturdy…

 

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We just got some temporary beachfront property.

 

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Of all the friends and lovers who have passed in my life, this one still stings the most.

It’s now been five years and I still think about him often…and despite that sting, I find myself smiling uncontrollably.  I know we’ll cross paths again in some other guise one day.

I’m reposting this from 2020 because I don’t think I could write anything better than I did then:

2020 just needs fuck right off.

Now.

Seriously.

Traditional wisdom says that you should be able to sense when a loved one has died.

I’m here to say that’s a lie.

I found out this evening that my dear friend Floyd passed last October. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t COVID. It was his heart, and he went in his sleep.

Floyd left behind his husband Ron, with whom he’d shared his life for the last 40 years and many grieving friends, myself among them.

Floyd and I met January 28, 1983. Despite it being a Friday night I wasn’t planning on going out. As I recall it had been an exhausting week and I wanted nothing more than to simply stay home and unwind.

But I stepped outside that evening, saw the most incredible full moon rising above the Rincon Mountains east of Tucson, and something told me in no uncertain terms to go out. There was, as they say, magic afoot.

My destination was The Fineline, a relatively new dance club on Drachman Street. I’d been there with my partner Dennis, numerous times, but since we’d split up a two months earlier and he took off for Austin, this was one of the first times I’d gone there by myself.

And hell, I was young and in a state of perpetual hormonal arousal, so why not?

I’d been working out (believe it or not) since Dennis left and I was feeling good about my body and the way I looked. I radiated a certain amount of confidence and it didn’t take long for Floyd and I to gravitate to one another. He was there with his partner, Ron, putting a damper on any thoughts of immediately scampering off to get nasty. But Floyd assured me they had an open relationship and while nothing would be happening between us that night, he was definitely interested in getting together. We exchanged phone numbers.

Later that same night I met Lee, a friend whom I’ve written about before, thus cementing the magic of that night in my life.

Floyd called me the next morning. We had phone sex. Floyd was a dirty, dirty boy and I loved it. We hung out a lot in the weeks that followed. As we discovered our shared taste in music and culture, a genuine friendship and affection bloomed between us. That’s not to say the physical attraction waned; if anything it remained constant, and over the years we became infrequent fuck buddies, all—somewhat surprisingly—with Ron’s blessing. Even during my San Francisco years we remained in touch, with Floyd traveling to The City numerous times on business.

After I returned to Phoenix and made it through the cancer ordeal, I started driving to Tucson to visit the guys on a semi-regular basis. I had a new car and if for no other reason I needed to reconnect with the friends who knew me best while putting my life back together.

Floyd and I called each other Dolly (from our shared love of Personal Services.)  I’d call him up and say, “Dolly, I need to get out of town for a while. Are you and Ron free?” and depending on the answer, I’d hop in Anderson and make the 90 minute drive south. I remember one insane Saturday when I drove down to help with some computer issues, brought his PC back home to repair, and then returned it later that day.

Floyd did the same sort of spontaneous trips north, and one of my favorite memories were the two separate times he (and a few weeks later with Ron) came up to Phoenix and we shot photos at Arizona Falls.

Shortly before Ben and I left for Denver, Floyd and Ron fell on some very hard times. They both lost their longtime jobs, were unable to find work, lost everything they’d built together, and were forced to move in with Ron’s sister.  Through it all we stayed in touch, they stayed together, and when they’d gotten back on their feet and Ben and I moved back from Denver, talked of a weekend visit but it seemed life was continually getting in the way and one thing or another always prevented it.

When it finally seemed we were going to be able to coordinate a visit, COVID hit, killing our plans again. I last spoke with Floyd in September, when he called to tell me that Abe, a mutual friend from our University of Arizona days, had passed.

Floyd, Ron, Abe and I used to joke that when we got old and retired we’d buy a big house together and disgracefully spend our twilight years like the Golden Girls.

The best laid plans of mice, men, and queens…

Though we went through periods when we didn’t see each other, or even talk much other than an occasional text or email, Floyd was one of those people in my life I just knew would always be there…and now he’s not. I think that’s why this has hit me so hard. His impish grin, that devilish twinkle in his eye, and his extensive…vocabulary…will be so sorely missed. More than with any other death that’s hit my life (and yes, sadly that includes my parents and my first partner, Dennis), I feel like a part of me has been ripped out and there’s nothing but an empty hole remaining.

As I get older, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that you need to tell the people you love that you love them every damn day, because they can be taken from you at any moment.

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I want to check in with Trump voters. I have one very genuine question: it’s been 250 days. Now that immigrants have been violently torn from their families and communities have been destroyed, now that trans people have been blamed for virtually everything and live in fear, now that free speech is on the brink of collapse for us all—has your life gotten better? Have your groceries gotten cheaper? Has your health insurance premium gone done? Has your work/life balance improved? Can you take a vacation yet? Are you happier? Has the widespread suffering of others paid off for you in the way he promised it would or are you still waiting?” ~ Ariana Grande

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ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

seriously, fuck that guy.

now let’s congratulate the woman who did win the Nobel Peace Prize, María Corina Machado.

The Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado, who built a powerful social movement and has been living in hiding since last year, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize on Friday. The Norwegian Nobel Committee praised “her tireless work promoting democratic rights for the people of Venezuela and for her struggle to achieve a just and peaceful transition from dictatorship to democracy.”

María Corina Machado is the Venezuelan opposition leader who stood up to a tyrant, worked tirelessly to bring democracy to her country, and — after arrest warrants were issued on bogus conspiracy charges — now lives in hiding, fearing for her life.

conspicuously not on Machado’s resume is renaming her Department of Defense to Department of War, disappearing people into slave-labor gulags, exploding the shit out of fishing boats, or sending armed military after her own people.

because the country of Norway is forced to exist in the same shitty timeline that we do, they now have to fear reprisals from the thinnest-skinned grievance-baby ever to crap a diaper in the Oval Office.

call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure that causing an entire country to fear for its own safety if they don’t award you a Peace Prize kind of disqualifies you from ever getting a Peace Prize.

here’s Machado’s statement, upon learning she’d snagged the Prize.

“Oh my god. Well, I have no words.”

She went on: “This is an achievement of a whole society. I am just, you know, one person. I certainly do not deserve this.”

“I’m honored, humbled. I’m very grateful on behalf of the Venezuelan people. We’re not there yet. We’re working very hard to achieve it, but I’m sure that we will prevail,” she said.

did you hear that? that’s what humility sounds like.

it’s a sound we don’t hear much these days in America, where we’re governed by a preening asshole who never stops screaming in our exhausted faces about how he deserves all the accolades.

here’s what Steven Cheung, the dime-store Bond villain who doubles as Donny Convict’s communications director, posted to Elon’s Nazi Bar.

“President Trump will continue making peace deals, ending wars, and saving lives. He has the heart of a humanitarian, and there will never be anyone like him who can move mountains with the sheer force of his will. The Nobel Committee proved they place politics over peace.”

oh my god, you tiny little spite-fueled homunculus. how fucking hard it is to say ‘congratulations’?

boo fucking hoo, you sore losers. eat binky.

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but do keep your chin up, Donny. you still have one thing mean old Barack HUSSEIN Obama will never have: the Nobel I Pointed At A Drawing Of A Camel Prize.

“I also did a cognitive exam. which is always very risky because if I didn’t do well, you’d be the first to be blaring it, and I had a perfect score. and one of the doctors said he’s almost never seen a perfect score. I had a perfect, uh, at perfect score. I got the highest score. and that made me feel good. when they asked ‘would I like to do one,’ I said yeah. I said, ‘did Obama do it?’ no … the last time I took a cognitive exam, it was a perfect score. the doctors announced it. and by the way, not the easiest test. the first few questions are pretty easy. once you get into the middle, it gets a little trickier. and there aren’t a lot of people in this room who would get every single question right, I could guarantee it.”

that was Donny, yesterday, at another one of his farcical ‘cabinet meetings.’

imagine being so fragile — and so in constant need of affirmation — that you have to interrupt your own meeting to brag about acing a test they give to people who show signs of drowning in their own dementia.

this the test Donny is bragging about — the Montreal Cognitive Assessment.

it’s not hard. twenty percent of the test is literally pointing at a drawing of a fucking camel.

awesome job, Donny. you get a lollipop!

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now let’s give the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press a well-earned Two Minutes Hate, because they’ve spent the last three days pissing themselves with glee, and declaring that Donny deserves all the Peace Prizes for his Gaza cease-fire plan — a plan that’s basically identical to the peace plan Joe Biden hammered out on his last day in office. Donny shoved it into a drawer and ignored it, let the carnage in Gaza continue for ten months, then dusted it off and put his name on it.

good boy, Donny! help yourself to another lollipop!

can the Washington Post please, at long last, kindly fuck all the way off?

this is the kind of drek the WaPo shits out onto their oped pages these days. notice that they’re still using ‘democracy dies in darkness’ as their motto. I’m thinking it’s more like ‘democracy dies when Jeff Bezos disappears up Dear Leader’s ass.’

oh look, Chris Cillizza wants to play a round of Easy Questions, Easy Answers™.

“What if…Donald Trump actually deserves the Nobel Peace Prize?”

Newsweek can join the Washington Post over in fuckoffistan.

according to who? I’m pretty sure the Nobel Committee doesn’t lob prizes in the general direction of anyone who announces the framework of a concept for a sketch of a peace plan.

how about we wait and see if this latest cease-fire lasts more than a day before we anoint Dear Leader as God-Emperor of All Peacemakers?

and I’m sorry, but I can’t even any more with this guy.

please, John, for the love of all that is holy, shut the fuck up.

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and finally, what is this nonsense?

Georgia Republican Rep. Buddy Carter: “Donald Trump has done that. that’s why he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize. that’s why I’m introducing a resolution today that will honor him with the Nobel Peace Prize, and if need be, we’ll call for a discharge petition.”

I’m sorry, give me a minute to wrap my head around this insanity. do I have this right? Buddy Carter is so mad about Dear Leader getting snubbed that he’s going to legislate that Donny gets a Nobel Peace Prize anyway?

how the fuck would that even work? are Republicans going to gin up a fake Peace Prize and award it to Donny, so he can display it in that vulgar gold-plated bordello that used to be the Oval Office? they’re going to do thisjust to keep an infantile rage-baby from melting all the way down — and then we’ll all stand around and pretend it’s a perfectly normal thing that happened?

am I on crazy pills right now?

my god, the entire Republican Party is sore loser babies all the way down.

people, we are in serious danger of depleting our nation’s Strategic Reserve of Binkies.

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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.

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Triads of Menkaure

1- In this triad, the king can be seen standing, the muscles of his body well defined, wearing the white Hedjet crown of Upper Egypt, a false beard, and a short kilt. His left leg strides forward, in the conventional manner.

The goddess Hathor, to his right, holds his hand, identifiable by the cow’s horns and sun-disc that surmount her wig, and by the inscription below, which reads, Hathor, Lady of the Sycamore Tree in all her places.

To his left stands a personification of the Diospolis Parva Nome (Hu district) of Egypt, herself identifiable by the standard above her head.

2- Menkaure in the center, accompanied by Hathor on his right, standing with her hands at her sides.

The personification of the Theban Nome stands to his left, presented as a short man with his left leg advancing forward, and his arms down by his sides.

As with the other Nome personification described above, he is identifiable by the standard above his head. The king’s beard has broken off.

3- This piece shows the king accompanied by Hathor and a Nome Goddess with the crouching jackal emblem of the nome of Cynopolis. Menkaure is wearing the white crown of Upper Egypt.

It was believed that they were placed in each region of Egypt, but this is an exaggeration, and the five were found in good condition, except for one completely broken and the other almost intact, and there are now three of them in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo and two in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston (11.1738 – 09.200.1)

Menkaure was the fifth king of the 4th Dynasty. These are the oldest triads in the history of ancient Egyptian statuary.

Old Kingdom, 4th Dynasty, ca. 2530-2500 BC. Now in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. JE 46499, JE 40679, JE 40678

[source]

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…of not being able to eat solid food (for however long this is going to be) is that you start seeing pictures of food everywhere. You also realize how much eating is present on television. It seems every show has at least one instance of a group of people dining together, grabbing a slice of pizza, sitting in a cafe having coffee and pastries, getting take-away Chinese… It’s just crazy.

To be honest, I’ve been cheating. Some things go down easier than others. Some things refuse to go down at all. Today has been one of those days when nothing is going down (even liquids), forcing me to rely on the fucking gastric tube (yeah, I had one of those put in pre-surgery) for everything. I’m meeting with the swallow/speech therapist next week to begin therapy. We’ll see how it goes.

So without further ado…let me frustrate myself with some mouthwatering images:

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Amid all the awfulness in this timeline, there are still good humans out there…

…and Spencer is among the best of them.

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I haven’t passed along all of Mr. Tiedrich’s missives as poignantly entertaining as they are because frankly, there are just some days I can’t deal with anything regarding “Preznit Fuckwit” no matter how witty it may be.

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never underestimate Little Donny Fuckface’s ability to waste everyone’s time on the stupidest bullshit imaginable.

witness the latest bug to crawl up the Mad King’s ass.

“I’m inside the White House. I will be speaking with the U.S. President and his cabinet about Antifa.”

that’s right, our 34-count convicted felon president invited a bunch of MAGA halfwits and hangers-on to the White House, for a roundtable on how to deal with the ‘problem’ of antifa — the imaginary ‘domestic terror organization’ that definitely doesn’t exist.

a roomful of morons setting policy based on a fever-swamp fantasy. it’s all so unbelievably stupid.

it’s as if a child were having a tea party with stuffed animals, and going ‘Mister Bear, let’s hear your plan to take on Soros.’

seriously, if you want to tackle a completely fictitious terror org, who better to have on your side than Pizzagate Jack Posobiec?

after all, Pizzagate Jack is the stuffed bear who promoted the fairy tale that Hillary Clinton trafficked children out of the basement of a pizza parlor that has no basement. who better than Jack to fight an imaginary foe?

now, let’s back up a bit — because the Mad King’s quest to outlaw Big Bad Antifa dates all the way back to his first reign.

the problem for Donny back then was that there were actual adults in the room who were willing to take him aside and go ‘dude, don’t be a shit-kazoo.’

 

By ERIC TUCKER and BEN FOX
Published 10:07 PM EDT, September 17, 2020

WASHINGTON (AP) — FBI Director Chris Wray told lawmakers Thursday that antifa is an ideology, not an organization, delivering testimony that puts him at odds with President Donald Trump, who has said he would designate it a terror group.

Hours after the hearing, Trump took to Twitter to chastise his FBI director for his statements on antifa and on Russian election interference, two themes that dominated a congressional hearing on threats to the American homeland.

Chris Wray — who had been appointed FBI director by Donny — had it exactly right. antifa isn’t an organization. it’s a belief — that fascism is bad.

pro tip: if you’re against the idea of antifascism, you’re on the wrong fucking side.

this is something that Pizzagate Jack and his buddies don’t seem to realize

fast forward to today. Chris Wray is gone, replaced

by Krazee-Eyes Kash. Donny no longer has adults in the room. what he has are toadies like ICE Barbie. she loves to dress up, and she was thrilled to take part in the Boy King’s tea party.

when they announce this year’s Nobel Prize for Things That Never Happened the Most™, I hope it goes to Kristi Noem — because get a load of this.

“one of the individuals we arrested recently in Portland was the girlfriend of one of the founders of antifa, and that we are hoping as we go after her and interview her and prosecute her, we’ll get more and more information about the network and how we can root them out and eliminate them from the existence of American society.”

yeah, no.

there is no quote-unquote network. there is no organization. there’s no hierarchy, no meetings, no dues, no membership cards, no secret handshake — and there is certainly no founder, and no girlfriend. does she even have a name? this whole story is a huge fucking bowl of it never happened.

I have a question for ICE Barbie: after you caught this ‘girlfriend of antifa,’ did she try to eat her own arm off?

it’s a legit thing to ask, because Noem is shameless about making shit up. here she is, back in July, at a press conference for the opening of that massive human rights violation, Alligator Alzcatraz.

“the other day I was talking to some marshals who have been partnering with ICE. they said that they had detained a cannibal, and put him on a plane to take him home, and while they had him in his seat, he started to eat himself. and they had to get him off and get him medical attention.”

MY GOD, PEOPLE, THEY’RE EATING THE DAWGS. THEY’RE EATING THE CATS. THEY’RE GNAWING ON THEIR OWN ARMS.

spoiler alert: of fucking course this never happened — and there is no reason on earth to ever believe any of the batshit that vomits out of ICE Barbie’s mouth.

by the way, at yesterday’s tea party, President Pudding Cup continued to prove that he’s a remarkable physical specimen in perfect health. tell me, is it worrisome when a 79-year-old president struggles to stay awake during every single time he appears in public?

it’s another legit question, because the White House announced yesterday that Donny will have his ‘yearly’ checkup at Walter Reed Hospital on Friday — which is weird, because he already had his ‘yearly’ Walter Reed checkup six months ago. so, what are not being told?

“I don’t know what could be worse than Portland. you don’t even have stores anymore. they don’t even put glass up. they put plywood on their windows.”

IS THAT WHY THEY’RE EATING THEIR OWN ARMS? because they don’t have stores any more, and Portlanders can no longer buy groceries?

where is this gibbering lunatic getting his information from? nothing even close to that is happening in Portland. the protests are minuscule, and confined to the one block in front of the ICE facility. look at this terrifying frog. no wonder Meal Team ICE is shitting their pants and calling for military backup.

is it worrisome when a president is tyrannical and incoherent at the same time?

…a flag burning mob, and we’ve uh made it uh one year penalty for inciting riots. we took the freedom of speech away because it’s been through the courts, and the courts said ‘you have freedom of speech’ but that— what has happened is when they burn a flag, it agitates and irritates crowds, they’ve never seen anything like it, both sides, and you end up with riots, so we’re going on that basis, we’re looking at it from not from the freedom of speech, which I always felt strongly about, but never passed the courts.”

holy shit, not only is Donny struggling to stay awake, he’s struggling to read what’s written on the paper in front of him.

‘we took the freedom of speech away’ — what a stunning thing to admit.

for those of you keeping score at home, flag burning is bad.

but using the flag to beat the shit out of cops on January 6, that’s good.

it’s also apparently totes cool to snuggle Old Glory against your cooch.

look, President Playpen can shit out all the farcical executive orders he wants, but he can’t redefine Constitutionally-protected speech, no matter how hard he tries. all this fuckery is going to end up in front of judges and grand juries — and they’ve shown time and again that they have no patience for any of Donny’s authoritarian bullshit.

none of this is normal. presidents aren’t supposed to shred the Constitution — nor are they supposed to wage war against their own people.

it’s so clear that Donny wants blood in the streets. he doing all he can to provoke clashes between protesters and National Guard troops, so he can invoke the Insurrection Act and declare martial law.

Donny is super fucking horny for a civil war. this is some scary shit, for sure — but the clock is ticking, and time may be running out on America’s Mad King.

here’s a thing that California Rep. Eric Swalwell not-tweeted yesterday morning.

“It’s coming to an end guys. I’ve spoken to a lot of House Republicans this week and they’ve confided that Trump’s movement/support is fading. As one told me, ‘this Epstein bomb is about to drop and no want wants to defend a pedo-protector. It’s just a matter of time.’”

which was followed up by—

“One Republican just texted me that if there’s a discharge vote on Epstein they expect a ‘jail break’ of over 100 members. Trump will go nuts!”

shoot that shit directly into my veins.

I know, it sounds way too good to be true — but Eric Swalwell is not a bullshitter.

Holy Mike can’t hold up Adelita Grijalva’s swearing-in ceremony forever. that 218th vote in favor of Tom Massie’s discharge petition is coming, sooner or later.

buckle your seat belt, things are about to get interesting.

oh, and the Nobel Peace Prize is being announced tomorrow morning. get ready for a ketchupnado in the West Wing.

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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.

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We’ve all heard that, right?

Back in July (seems like a lifetime ago at this point) I picked up this Sony MXD-D40 combo CD/MD deck off eBay for a steal. Normally these go for over $400, but because the seller noted, “needs belts,” it was sitting there with a buy it now price of a quarter of that. How could I say no? Did I need it? No. Did I want it? Of course.

I found a set of belts online, and after finalizing the purchase of the deck, I ordered those as well. Little did I know they’d be coming from Europe and the delivery was more than a month out.

I searched again, and found the MD only belt in the US and ordered that. I figured the CD could wait until that belt arrived, but I wanted the MD portion of the deck working as soon as I received it, and there’d be no harm in keeping a spare belt on hand.

The MD belt arrived, followed by the deck a few days later. It turns out the CD tray (which supposedly needed the belt) worked fine, and after a simple matter of swapping out the MD belt, I had a fully functional deck.

On cue, the belt set arrived from Europe a couple weeks later, and even though the CD was working fine, on principle I went ahead and swapped the old for the new.

Although I didn’t connect it at the time, the CD tray developed a horrible shudder when pulling in a disc.

I tried everything I could think of to fix it to no avail. I even posted on the Reddit CD forum to see if anyone had any suggestions and got no response.

I finally gave up, boxed the unit up and with other, more important things happening in my life subsequently, forgot about it.

Then, a few nights ago as I was falling asleep, a thought popped into my head: the replacement belt was too tight. Even though it seemed to be the same size as the original, it was just enough off to stress the mechanism; hence the shudder.

It turns out that was the problem. Today I opened up the deck…

…and put the original belt back in place.

Problem solved.

Two lessons learned: if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, and trust those flashes of insight that come as you’re drifting off to sleep.

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