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

monday: fishes like no one thought possible

as Jesus sagely counseled us in his Sermon on the Mount, blessed are the dipshits, for they will crap their dumbfuckery all over social media.

exhibit A: internet found object Nick Adams.

oh look, it’s the parable of the fishes and the loaves, wherein Jesus, armed with two fish and five loaves, miraculously feeds five thousand of his faithful flock. and I guess that Donny Convict is our modern-day Jesus? whatever you say, MAGA. I’m pretty sure that if Jesus returned today, he wouldn’t be some racist kiddie-fiddler.

have you ever noticed that every time the cultists wants to show an image of Dear Leader helping someone, it has to be ginned up by AI?

let’s get real. we all know what would happen if Donny decided to get into the fishes and loaves business.

first of all, fuck that ‘give it away for free’ shit. that’s not how Preznit Greedface rolls. dude’s always gotta make a buck. so he’d sit himself down and record a video announcing Trump Fishloaves™. he’d go on and on about how these are amazing fishloaves, beautiful, delicious fishloaves, possibly the greatest fishloaves of all time. and then he’d set up a web site and start taking pre-orders for $499.00.

and every MAGA shitwit would be all ‘shut up and take my money’ — because stupid doesn’t magically cure itself overnight.

and then, six months later, some reporter would go ‘hey, whatever happened to those Trumploaves™?’ — and the answer would be bupkis. zip. nada. because the whole fucking thing was a scam from the get-go — just like those $499.00 Trump phones.

and then we’d find out that the gluttonous fuck ate all the fishes and loaves himself, in one sitting.

but sure, MAGA. you keep telling yourselves how Dear Leader is some awesome humanitarian. it’s such a cool story.


tuesday: blessed are the gullible

podcast bro Joe Rogan’s whole deal is that he’s a credulous meathead. he’ll sit there like a lump as some raving conspiracy loon barks out the batshittiest fever-swamp hallucinations imaginable — after which Joe will nod his head, take a long drag off a joint, and go ‘huh. I didn’t know that.’

but Joe’s not above making his own nonsensical high-as-fuckpronouncements.

“Jesus was born out of a virgin mother. what’s more virgin than a computer? if Jesus does return, even if Jesus was a physical person in the past, you don’t think he could return as artificial intelligence? artificial intelligence could absolutely return as Jesus.”

I think it’s high time (see what I did there?) for Joe Rogan to put down the joint — because I’m pretty sure he meant ‘Jesus could absolutely return as AI.’

this unknown twitterer says it far better than I ever could.

as someone who attended high school in the early 1970s and had many friends with older brothers, I can confirm that this is 100% true.


wednesday: blessed are the fuckfaces

are you a devout, godfearing MAGA woman who can’t find a husband? well, listen up — because Christian nationalist fascist Joel Webbon has some advice for you.

“lose 20 to 30 pounds.”

I have some advice for MAGA men who can’t find a wife: grow a personality — and try to be less of a hateful asshole.

I know it’s hard, but try.


thursday: Kash and carry

Thursday’s big news was the announcement that the person suspected of planting bombs at the DNC and RNC headquarters the night before January 6, 2021 had finally been apprehended. and — spoiler alert — it wasn’t (as so many on social media had hoped) a certain three-toed freak of nature.

put your disappointment aside for a moment, because — hey, you want to see in-way-over-his-head FBI Director Krazee-Eyes Kash Patel drag irony out back to the gravel pit and shoot it in the head?

“when you attack our nation’s Capitol, you attack the very being of our way of life. we will always refute it and combat it.”

seriously, there, Kash? always?

fact check: fuck all the way off.

because Dear Leader pardoned all fifteen hundred of these Capitol-attacking shitheads on his very first day in office.

oh, and here’s a fun fact.

the suspect is a Trumper, so no one should be surprised when he gets pardoned, too.

pretty suspicious timing, to catch this guy right now. the only thing you need to know about this whole dog-and-pony show is that Donny’s name is on every page of the Epstein Files.


friday: the further adventures of some fucking idiot

on Friday, some fucking idiot started his day by announcing that he had “just approved TINY CARS to be built in America.”

you’re welcome, America!

what the crap? does the fucking idiot not understand how free enterprise works? anyone who wants to build a TINY CAR already has the freedom to do so. they don’t need some kingly proclamation of approval. for fuck’s sake, his entire administration already fits in a tiny car.

can we not, at long last, confine this fucking idiot to a padded room? maybe one with a throne in it, where he can sit all day long and make royal declarations to his heart’s content. ‘I have just approved UNDERWEAR to be worn on everyone’s heads. ENJOY!!!’

anyway, after that bit of dumb-assery, it was off to the main event. the fucking idiot was awarded the FIFA Peace Prize.

which turned out to be a cheap piece of gold-plated metal that he hung around his neck.

does the fucking idiot not grasp that the entire world is pissing its pants laughing at him right now? he’s the only person who isn’t aware that he’s an overgrown child being handed an imaginary Very Special Boy Participation Trophy. he took the whole farcical spectacle seriously.

he’s a joke — an international joke being told at America’s expense. it’s all so embarrassing.

but the fucking idiot’s day wasn’t over yet. he had one more trick up his sleeve. he announced that he was ending free admission to national parks on Juneenth and Martin Luther King Day — as one does when one is a demented racist.

oh, but the fucking idiot did add one new free admission day: June 14th, the fucking idiot’s own birthday — as one does when one is a demented narcissist.

YOU’RE WELCOME, AMERICA!!!

and not one worthless scribbler of the corporate-controlled media stood up to ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

how fucking idiotic is that?


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

Saturday Jokes

As the old saying goes, (from the St. Louis street Department), if you want to snow plow a street, you’ve got to total a few Chevies.

Sam was a high steel worker. Loved his job building skyscrapers. Worked without an accident until he was forced to retire at 75. After retiring he devoted himself to his hobby of ice climbing. Sam passed away peacefully in his sleep at 99. Instead of Saint Peter and a choir of beautiful Seraphim’s, he was met at the pearly gates by a bedraggled, exhausted angel with one wing dragging the ground, torn robes, halo bent, drooping over one eye. She hugged him and said, “Welcome to Heaven, Sam. I am Daniella, your Guardian Angel…..”

I ordered a Chinese takeaway from a local place last night (I won’t name them), placed it on the kitchen work top and as I was getting plates, I heard the bags rustling and moving!! I thought what the hell is that?! Has something got in the bag? I thought I could see a little pair of eyes peering out at me. I was so scared as the bag was moving around, I leaned forward, picked up the bag, put it on the floor, frying pan in one hand and there it was again, more rustling and little eyes looking out behind the prawn crackers, I thought its got to be a rat or a mouse or something, so I carefully pulled the bag down and there it was ….
A Peeking Duck!

I am no longer allowed to go caroling at the psych hospital.
I guess “Do you hear what I hear” was a bad song choice.

Doctor in packed waiting room: Due to new privacy regulations, we can no longer use patient names in the waiting room. Will the patient with the itchy vagina please follow me.

I was called into my managers office because of my dress code.
He said, “You can’t wear pajamas for work.”
I said, “Everyone else does.”
He said: “That’s because they’re PATIENTS!”

It’s maddening when the ATM charges you $3 to get your own money, then tells you to cover your pin so you don’t get robbed.

Next week is diarrhea awareness week.
Runs until Friday.

A female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn’t, turned to the weatherman and asked, “So Bob, where’s that eight inches you promised me last night?”

My brain has 47 tabs open, 3 are frozen, 1 is playing music, and I have no idea where it’s coming from.

My goal weight is the weight where I can trim my toenails and breath at the same time.

Interviewer: Why did you leave your last job?
Me: The company relocated and didn’t tell me where.

I’ve reached the age where I drive around and say, “Dang, I remember when this was all woods!”

The difference between me and Superman is…
He has super vision.
I require supervision.

Heat makes things expand. So I don’t have a weight problem. I’m just hot.

All I want for Christmas is the housing market to crash so I can buy a 5 bedroom house for $100.

My circle is so small that when my phone rings I know it’s scammers.

In the 1950s carjacking had a totally different meaning.

Me: Robot, prove to me that trans women are real women.
Robot: Conservative men harass them on the internet, threaten them in public, consider them inferior, and take away their rights.

TV time…
Him: Wanna watch porn or golf.
Her: Porn, you already know how to play golf.

Just had my phone incorrectly autocorrect ‘ducking’ to ‘fucking’, which means I’ve won!
How does failure feel, demon box.

I swallowed a bunch of synonyms yesterday.
Gave me the thesaurus throat I’ve ever had.

Where are all the flat earthers?
They’re at home trying to figure out why it’s night time.

I started a dating site for chickens.
It’s not my day job.
I just do it to make hens meet.

I lost three fingers on my right hand.
I asked my doctor if I was ever going to be able to write with it again.
He said maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it.

So yesterday my wife asked me if I could clear the dinner table.
Even with a running start, I didn’t come close.

If you believe a president who pardons drug dealers is fighting a war on drugs by sinking small boats, I don’t know how to help you. (Bilbo)

I just learned a new expression: “Schrödinger’s Douchebag” – someone who says offensive things and decides whether or not they were joking based on the reactions of people around them. (Bilbo)

I need to get in shape. If I were one of those victims in a crime show, my chalk outline would be a circle. (Bilbo)

My granddaughter once asked me, “Do trees poop?” I said, “Of course they do … that’s where #2 pencils come from.” (Bilbo)

We took our son to the countryside, he was about 4, he blurted out, look mom, dad, it’s chocolate cows, that is where chocolate milk comes from. (Bilbo’s friend Joy)

I’ve been looking for my sanity, but I think it ran off with my motivation, the matching socks, and half of the Tupperware lids. (Bilbo)

What gets longer if pulled, fits snugly between breasts, slides neatly into a hole, chokes people when used incorrectly, and works well when jerked?
A seatbelt.

“You only lasted 2 minutes.” Husband replies, “It was doggy style, so that’s like 14 minutes.”

[source]

Why Is It…

… that as I get older I no longer dislike Mondays … I dislike the whole week.

… that I used to fall asleep and lay in one position the entire night. Now I rotate like a rotisserie chicken every fifteen minutes or a hip hurts.

… that when people say, ‘Bob you are out of fucking control,’ I hear ‘Bob, you are such a free spirit.’

… that more often than not I find out without even getting the chance to fuck around.

… that people need constant reminding that no matter how they feel about me, there’s nothing they can do.

… that after work I was so excited to get that raise. I mean, it was in medication dosage, but I’ll take any win I can get.

… that some people think I have no self control. I have actually cooked meals for men I should have poisoned but didn’t.

… that people need to learn that I may not put the sparkle in their eyes, but I will put the WTF wrinkles in your forehead.

… that I think the best way to get over somebody is with your car.

… that people don’t realize my social media posts are not targeted at anyone in particular, but if you feel offended I’m glad I could reach one person.

[source]

Vintage Audio Pr0n

SONY STR-V6

Beautiful. I’ve always admired this series; never enough to actually want to own one, but I can’t deny the attraction of the aesthetic Sony adopted here.

A Small Breakthrough

I know some (most?) of you are tired of hearing of my ongoing food envy/swallowing issues, but, this is my blog, and…

Anyhow, after a particularly encouraging session with my speech/swallow therapist today (and actually getting small bowl of corn chips with queso and guacamole down last night), I decided to stop by my favorite neighborhood burrito place on the way home to pick up a green chili pork burrito, with the ultimate goal of getting at least some of it down the conventional way. If not, I knew I had the purée option to fall back on.

Well folks, I got it home, cut it in half and actually ate—as in chewing and swallowing—one half of it! There were a few minor issues, and it took me so long the last bits were cold, but I did it! Have we turned a corner?

The key seems to be getting rid of the swelling in my jaw. To that end, my therapist ordered a face mask/upper body vest thing that gently messages those areas to break down the lymphedema and get those fluids moving on their way. We had a session today that visibly reduced the swelling and improved my post-session swallowing significantly. I’m also approved for dedicated PT for the same thing, which I was told in my case it’s just an hour of dedicated face and neck massage. (Can’t complain about that.)

So those cheeseburgers and crunchy tacos may be closer than I’d believed.

Goals, honey. Goals.

It Was A Different Time, Cont.

Your pre-contact lens/mustachioed host headed out for a night at Moon’s Truck

Hey…it was the late 70s and all of us of a certain age have photos like this hidden away. Don’t deny it!

Anyway, I was listening to this while I was getting ready this morning, and what struck me most was the fun embodied in the songs, especially the first track. While the late 70s were not without their problems, there’s no doubt that in comparison to 2025, it was a much simpler, more joyful time in this country.

Another Week Ends With Mr. Tiedrich


‘congratulations, world.’

that’s an actual quote from some White House chucklefuck — and she wasn’t being sarcastic. oh no, not at all. we’re apparently all supposed to genuflect in gratitude over Dear Leader’s latest exercise in fragile megalomania.

on Wednesday, out of the clear blue, workers showed up at the US Institute of Peace building in Washington DC, and slapped Donny Convict’s name on it.

how awesome. Preznit Fuckwit has defiled yet another of our public institutions. try not to projectile vomit as you look on in horror.

congratulations, us. we’re so fucking lucky.

of course, Donny inflicting his accursed name onto everything and glomming credit for shit he didn’t do is pretty much his entire business model — but this instance of it is so fucking galling on about eighteen thousand different levels.

first of all, this ghoulish hyena’s name would be more appropriate on a building that houses the US Institute For Bombing The Shit Out Of Shipwrecked Survivors Who Are Trying Not To Drown.

what kind of ‘war is peace’ bullshit is this?

wherever he is right now, George Orwell is ripping fistfuls of hair out of his head and screaming ‘god fucking dammit, 1984 was supposed to be a cautionary tale, not an instruction manual.’

secondly, what Donny just slapped his brand on is a pretty much empty building. the US Institute of Peace is barely even a thing right now, thanks to the Space Nazi. one fine day last March, his merry band of unfuckable DOGE incels showed up at the Peace Institute and announced, ‘congratulations, everyone — you’re all fired.’ next came the inevitable lawsuits over the firings.the whole thing is tied up in court right now, while the building is a ghost town.

can Donny even legally fart his name onto any public building he chooses? probably not, but stupid little issues of legality didn’t stop him from demolishing the East Wing. welcome to life in the shittiest timeline ever.

congratulations, us!

thirdly, this is what Donny is wasting his time on, as the prices of goods and services go up, and the cost of healthcare skyrockets. any caring leader might spend some time trying to fix any of that shit — but this asshole can’t be bothered to lift a finger.

so there goes Donny, traipsing through DC, pissing all over yet another public institution — and then telling us how lucky we are.

White House spokesperson Anna Kelly confirmed the move, calling it “beautifully and aptly named,” and saying it “will stand as a powerful reminder of what strong leadership can accomplish for global stability.”

“Congratulations, world!” she said.

our next president is going to be able to create an entire jobs program devoted to prying this fucker’s name off of everything. it can’t come fast enough.


but oh wait, it gets stupider.

FIFA — the sports org that oversees the World Cup — has invented a fake peace prize. and you’ll never guess who they’re awarding it to.

Not long after President Trump missed out on the Nobel Peace Prize that he openly campaigned for, his friend Gianni Infantino got to work.

Mr. Infantino, president of FIFA, soccer’s global governing body, who had publicly lobbied for Mr. Trump to receive the peace prize, simply had his organization establish its own. The announcement of the “FIFA Peace Prize — Football Unites the World” was so hastily arranged that it surprised several of the body’s most senior officials, including board members and vice presidents, according to four soccer executives briefed on the events.

oh my god, it’s just one embarrassing episode after another, isn’t it? healthy, well-balanced people don’t need to be mollified by having ersatz awards conferred on them by dipshits trying to curry favor. and Preznit Fuckwit is falling for it. he’s over the moon to be handed this sham honor.

A White House spokesman, Davis Ingle, said that Mr. Trump was “excited to attend” the draw.

what the fuck is next? the Big Mac Peace Prize? there’s probably no end to corporate institutions willing to play this game. can we get the Quaker Oats people come up with a prize? at least Quakers actually believe in peace — unlike some footballers we could name.


can you think of another country whose fragile Dear Leader needs constant affirmation that he’s a good boy. a very good boy. maybe the best boy ever? perhaps North Korea. oh great, we’re now on par with Kim Jong-un’s failed state.

congratulations, us.

there’s no word on what this award is going to look like, but I hope it’s a big gold-plated binky.

can you think of another country whose fragile Dear Leader needs constant affirmation that he’s a good boy. a very good boy. maybe the best boy ever? perhaps North Korea. oh great, we’re now on par with Kim Jong-un’s failed state.

congratulations, us.

there’s no word on what this award is going to look like, but I hope it’s a big gold-plated binky.


now get ready to win the Nobel I Just Threw Up In My Mouth A Little Award, because — congratulations, world!this year’s White House Christmas card just dropped.

look, I warned you.

seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these people? it’s a cult — one in which every single member has unresolved daddy issues.

but we need to fact-check Dear Leader’s suspiciously healthy hand in that graphic, because Donny’s real-life hand — in a photo taken yesterday — is telling a much uglier story.

yeesh. oh my god. look at that bloated, decaying thing, like the hand of a corpse that was just pulled out of a polluted lake. and now Donny’s wearing what looks like two band-aids. concealing what, pray tell?

what are they not telling us about Dear Leader’s health?


we definitely need a palate cleanser after that, so here’s your hero of the day, bicycling his way past what I believe is the Treasury Building in Washington, DC.

I have no idea who this dude is — the vid was posted to not-twitter by our friend Anarchy Princess — but I do like his style.

let’s gif that shit for posterity’s sake.

now there’s a positive affirmation we can all get behind.

congratulations, Donny.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

Thursday Tiedrich


tell me, is it a bad thing when the leader of your party is a drooling halfwit serenely convinced of his own brilliance?

is it a bad thing when the leader of your party lives inside his own fact-free fantasy-bubble where everything is amazing, and ignores all evidence to the contrary?

and is it a bad thing when the leader of your party cannot be persuaded to give the tiniest of micro-fucks for the needs of your constituents?

pour one out for the Republican Party, folks, because they’re now finding out the hard way that the answer to all three questions is oh fuck, it’s a catastrophe.’

CNN’s Harry Enten: “Republicans should be running for the hills this morning, because the blue wave is building. what are we talking about here? well, Matt Van Epps, the Republican candidate, he won it by 9 — but this is a district that Donald Trump won by 22 points. this is a 13-point gain for the Democrats in terms of the margins, and excuse time for Republicans is over. because I hear all about these special elections. ‘oh, the turnout’s so low, it’s not representative of what would happen in a midterm election.’ the turnout last night in Tennessee’s 7th district was equal to the turnout in the 2022 midterm election. so the blue wave seems to be building right out of the center of Tennessee.”

Tuesday’s special election in Tennessee was a five-alarm disaster for the GOP. oh, sure, their boy won — but it was a nail-biter, in a heavily-gerrymandered distract that should have been an electoral cakewalk. if Republicans can’t turn that shit around, pronto, they’re facing a wipe-out in next year’s midterms — and they fucking well know it.

with that in mind, they want Donny to stop farting around. put down the fabric samples for the gaudy dance hall, stop tarting up the Oval Bordello, stop making cow-eyes at the Nobel Peace Prize, and focus on what really matters to the American people.

it’s the economy, fuckwit.

Some of President Donald Trump’s closest allies in Congress are warning that the party needs to sharpen its affordability message to voters heading into the 2026 elections — or risk big losses that would shackle him for the rest of his second term.

good luck with that. if Republicans think they’re going to get Dear Leader to hone his ‘affordability message,’ I’m afraid I’ve got some rather bad news for them.

“the word ‘affordability’ is a Democrat scam.”

how’s that, GOP? it that ‘honed’ enough for you?

I hate to break it to Republicans, but the Mad King thinks he’s already fixed that shit. the delusional dumbfuck imagines that the economy is roaring along — and if you think otherwise, it’s because you’ve fallen for a ‘Democrat scam.’

the problem for Republicans is that Dear Leader can’t bullshit his way out of a bad economy. it’s easy to bamboozle MAGA into believing that he’s ended a skillionty wars. that shit’s abstract. it’s easy to post some blurry video of a boat on fire, and convince his dumbfuck worshipers that he’s winning some farcical war on ‘narcoterrorism.’ that’s happening thousands of miles away.

but the price of goods and services? that’s something even the hardest-core cultist can see with their own eyes.

as Abe Lincoln famously said, ‘you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool anyone who walks into a grocery store and actually sees what things cost into believing that prices are going down.’

and that is why Matt Van Epps came this close to getting his ass handed to him in Tennessee’s no-longer-solidly-red 7th District.


Republicans think they can solve this shit by getting Dear Leader back out on the campaign trail.

“I would love him to get back to driving around in the garbage truck, going to McDonald’s. Go to a supermarket, go to a farm. That’s when he’s at his best,” Rep. Jeff Van Drew told CNN, recalling a message he conveyed to the president in a lengthy phone call earlier this week. “Next year, we got to concentrate — the American people first.”

oh yeah, please get Preznit Fuckwit up on a garbage truck again.

I would pay good money to watch that.

remember what happened last time Donny tried to climb into a truck? he almost killed himself.

his rotting hand refused to function, and his gimpy leg almost collapsed — and that was over a year ago. Donny’s in much worse shape now. he’s lucky he can even get out of bed in the morning. it’s a miracle that the narcoleptic old fuck doesn’t go face down in his lunch on a daily basis.

sorry, Republicans, that ‘Donny’s a man of the people’ shit ain’t happening any more. Donny’s too old — and too deteriorated — to go out in public. he’s tired, and can no longer hack the grind.

he’d rather just hang out at his vermin-infested golf motel and hobnob with cronies.

It has been many months since Trump hosted a full-on campaign-style rally. He has opted instead to travel abroad, golf at his private clubs, and dine with wealthy friends, business leaders, and major donors…. And that lack of regular voter contact has contributed to a growing fear among Republicans and White House allies: that Trump is too isolated, and has become out of touch with what the public wants from its president.

and therein lies the crux. Donny’s out of touch with reality, and he’s surrounded himself with equally out-of-touch cronies who tell him that everything is amazing — and why not? for Donny and his cronies, everything is amazing. not one of these obscenely wealthy fuckfaces ever worries about the price of anything. they don’t have to.

look at Soybean Scott Bessent.

s this the face of a man who gives a shit if the price of a bottle of Lafitte Rothschild ’75 goes up by two hundred dollars? trust me, he doesn’t even notice.

these are the people who are slapping Donny on the back and telling him he’s doing a great job.

meanwhile, the economy continues to crater.

Economists on Wednesday expressed significant concerns after new data from global payroll processing firm ADP estimated that the US economy lost 32,000 jobs last month.

to the Republicans who think Donny’s going to magically snap out of it and start ‘honing his message’ about ‘affordability,’ I say ‘sorry, peeps.’

Donny’s gonna do it his way. literally. yesterday, at 2pm, Donny was blasting Frank Sinatra’s My Way out of the windows of the White House.

here’s my message to Donny: shove your head in the sand, ignore reality, and keep imagining that the economy is going great guns. you do it your way, bro.

close your eyes tight enough, Donny, and you won’t even see the blue wave coming in 2026.


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

Useless Piece Of Shit

How do you say you’re a hypocrite without saying you’re a hypocrite.

Because this is the shit people who lost their jobs, their homes, who can’t afford to buy groceries, or see a doctor REALLY care about, right, Ted?

What an utterly useless piece of shit.

Are We Finally In The “Find Out” Phase Of This Bullshit?

Mr. Smith, who spent more than two years aggressively collecting evidence to prove Trump mishandled classified documents and tried to overturn the results of the 2020 election, appears eager to publicly challenge Trump. Smith has made it unmistakably clear that he will not only defend himself but take a hammer to Mr. Trump’s exaggerated and false claims. There’s “tons of evidence” Smith said, that Mr. Trump had willingly retained the classified documents at his residence in Mar-a-Lago and tried “to obstruct the investigation.” Some Republicans have privately expressed concern that Mr. Trump’s quest for vengeance could backfire by giving a credible anticorruption investigator an open mic. Jack Smith still has the capacity to inflict significant political damage by discrediting the MAGA narrative that Trump did nothing wrong.