Robbie’s Redemption
Trump Will Never Be Welcome In Arizona
365 Days Of UNF: April 21st
At Least This Maid’s Room Has It’s Own Bath…
Nothing To See Here. Move Along.
Today’s Affirmation
Monday Tiedrich
Donny Convict is bugfuck nuts.
you know it, and I know it — but do you know who else knows it? all the president’s flunkies. they have to continually come up with new ways to deal with his crazypants shit on a daily basis.
here’s a perfectly normal thing that happened with our perfectly normal president.
recently, Donny was acting so erratically while military leaders were planning a rescue operation in Iran, that big strong aides with tears in their eyes had to go up to him and say, ‘sir! sir! why don’t you go play in traffic?’
I shit you not. according to a report in the Wall Street Journal, Donny actually got banned from the command room.
Aides kept the president out of the room as they got minute-by-minute updates because they believed his impatience wouldn’t be helpful, instead updating him at meaningful moments, a senior administration official said.
that’s right: Donny’s handlers had to keep him far away from what was going on, because he was so out of control that they were afraid he would fuck everything up.
can you imagine any other president in recent memory getting eighty-sixed from the center of operations? no, you can’t. it’s practically unthinkable.
here’s how that shit went down. remember that Good Friday incident, when Iran shot down an American jet, and nobody knew what had happened to the pilots? it turns that when he was given the news, Donny shat a massive brick
It was Good Friday afternoon in a nearly empty West Wing soon after the president learned that an American jet had been shot down in Iran, with two airmen missing. Trump screamed at aides for hours.
because everyone knows that the best way to motivate your staff is to get right up into their faces and just fucking unload on them for hours on end. Donny really is the boss from hell.
am I the only one getting ‘Hitler in the bunker’ vibes from Donny’s meltdown?
oh my god, can you imagine having this colicky piss-baby screaming at you for literal hours? no amount of money in the world could be worth having the rancid fecal-breath of that malignant toad being blown in your face as you endured the latest in an infinite series of dressing-downs — not to mention all the hurled ketchup bottles one would eternally be ducking.
seriously, you couldn’t pay me enough. if it were me on the receiving end of one of Donny’s tirades, I’d be all ‘how about you go fuck yourself, Shouty Boy?’
do know why Donny completely lost his shit? because he was worried that news of a downed jet would make him look bad.
“If you look at what happened with Jimmy Carter…with the helicopters and the hostages, it cost them the election,” Trump had said in March. “What a mess.”
picture it: generals with actual combat experience are trying to figure out the best way to bring pilots back from behind enemy lines, and this fucking lunatic is screaming about Jimmy Carter and the price of gas, as if an entire rescue operation was all just some big plot to inconvenience him — because Donny always has to make everything about himself.
oh, and get a load of this.
At one point he even mused he should award himself the nation’s highest military honor, the Medal of Honor.
FOR WHAT? my god, everyone who had to sit there and eat Donny’s shit while he screamed at them without end, they’re the ones who deserve the Medal of Honor.
sorry, Donny — you don’t get a Medal of Honor. what you get is the Four Seasons Total Prancing About Like A Complete Unhinged Fuckface Prize.
just to remind everyone, here’s how a president is supposed to act during a critical military operation.
that was Obama, in the Situation Room while Osama bin Laden was being taken out. notice how he’s not screaming in anyone’s faces about GET THIS FUCKING THING DONE ALREADY. nor is he ranting and raving about how bad he’ll look if shit goes sideways. he’s just a calm, rational dude.
but now we’ve normalized crazy. Donny pulls this childish crap on a daily basis, making a mockery of sane governance, and everyone is all just ‘well, okay. that happened.’
here’s a fun thing for All The President’s Toadies to consider: if you can ban a president from a command room for being too much of a raging lunatic, you can 25th Amendment him from the presidency for the exact same reason.
this deranged fucking maniac is back to calling for the complete destruction of Iran’s infrastructure.
“We’re offering a very fair and reasonable DEAL, and I hope they take it because, if they don’t, the United States is going to knock out every single Power Plant, and every single Bridge, in Iran. NO MORE MR. NICE GUY!”
no more mister nice guy? when was Preznit Fuckwit ever a nice guy?
and oh look, now Donny’s doing his usual Sunday afternoon market manipulation, claiming out of the clear blue that he’s on the verge of another deal with Iran — and, once again, the press dutifully reports it without first bothering to ask Iran if it’s true.
spoiler alert: it’s not true.
all of this is bugfuck nuts. in the span of hours, Donny pinballs from threatening to blow everything sky high, to calmly announcing another imaginary deal.
none of this is normal — and all of it is insane.
here’s a serious question for Donny’s handlers: what’s the plan here? for everyone to just cross their fingers and hope Donny doesn’t eventually call for nukes? are they just hoping Donny somehow magically gets better?
free clue: Donny isn’t going to get better. dementia doesn’t magically cure itself overnight. neither does malignant narcissism, or delusions of grandeur, or compulsive lying, or the need to be worshiped, or any of the thousand pathologies and personality defects that Dear Leader suffers from.
he’s just going to get worse. today, it’s banning Donny from the command room. what’s Dear Leader going to need to be prevented from doing tomorrow?
so let’s go. 25th Amendment now. it’s the only rational solution to the problem of an insane chief executive.
we’ll take our chances with the furniture fucker.
happy Kash Patel is Suing The Atlantic Day to all who observe.
here’s Two-Drinks-Minimum Kash yesterday, shitfaced as usual on Maria Bartiromo’s show.
Maria Bartiromo: “the Atlantic Magazine is alleging that you have a drinking problem. what is your response this morning to this article?”
Krazee-Eyes Kash: “the results, I say, speak for themselves. if the fake news mafia isn’t hitting you personally with baseless information in Washington DC, then you’re not going you job. and it’s louder than ever, because this FBI, under President Leadership …”
Kash goes on to filibuster Bartiromo’s question for a solid two minutes without ever actually denying that any of his ahem alleged blackout-drunk escapades happened.
nice job of deflection, bro.
Kash says he’ll be filing his defamation suit against The Atlantic today. here we have some file footage of a definitely sober Kash, strategizing with his ace team of lawyers.
whoops! wrong footage.
and now, here’s your hero of the day: this fucking duck.
I have no idea what the duck did to deserve this, but remember: if you can 25th Amendment a duck from a store, you can 25th Amendment a lunatic from the presidency.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
Why Do They ALWAYS Look Like This?
The Queen is Back!
The first release from Madge’s upcoming Confessions II.
The world needs this kind of energy now.
365 Days Of UNF: April 19th
Today’s Affirmation
OMG…
Well…
I’d Knock Out The Dedicated Pantry…
…and get rid the Maid’s Room, pushing the kitchen wall to line up with the Maid’s Room.. I’d then turn the Maid’s Room into a Den/Office. I’d also turn the Mud Room into a laundry and close off its access to the Maid’s Room bath. I’d then turn that bath into a half bath accessible from the Den/Office.
Today, Tomorrow, And For The Rest Of My Life
1959 Ford Galaxie Skyliner Retractable Hardtop
Truer Words Have Not Been Spoke…
Right?!
Dat ‘Stache
Yum!
365 Days Of UNF: April 17th
One Thing That’s Always Annoyed Me About MacOS
The one thing (well, actually one of many, TBH) that’s always annoyed me about macOS is the inability to save a desktop theme. Windows does this flawlessly, but for some reason it was a feature implemented on the Mac.
So—as is often the case—I enlisted the Google machine. And wouldn’t you know, my quest was immediately answered:
(Click here to be taken to the website.)
Very cool. Super simple (doesn’t require messing with SIP or anything like that). Works as advertised and definitely worth $20 if you like customizing your Mac experience.
Oops!
Thursday Tiedrich

once again, everything in the news is so unbelievably stupid that I don’t even know where to start. so today, I’m just going to spin the Big Wheel of Moron™ and see where it lands. ready? here we go.
“as we all know, the natural habitat for the Earth is actually water.”
that was Donny Convict’s Secretary of Moneygrubbing, Soybean Scott Bessent, pooh-poohing the idea that climate change is bad. as Bessent tells it, no one should worry about the rapid melting of the polar ice caps, because ‘the natural habitat for the Earth is actually water.’
dear lord, this shitwit is seriously advocating for Waterworld, one of the dumbest fucking movies ever.
Scott Bessent is so smug and pompous — and supremely self-assured — as he farts out one of the most imbecilic things you’ll ever hear in your life.
do you know why Soybean Scott is so confidently idiotic? it’s because he suffers from the heartbreak of fuckbrainoligarchosis, a malady where just because a person manages to accumulate a pile of money, they imagine they’re super-geniuses about everything.
in that clip above, Soybean Scott was speaking at the Institute of International Finance, which is sort of a support group where those afflicted by fuckbrainoligarchosis can get together and share their delusions of intelligence.
basically, the Institute of International Finance is what would happen if Monty Python’s Upper Class Twit of the Year sketch became a real boy.
oh, and fact check:
Technically the natural habitat of Earth is the frigid vacuum of space mr bessent, go enjoy some of that with all your friends and leave us the fuck alone
— spotless (@freespotless) April 15, 2026
apparently, water isn’t the only liquid on Soybean Scott’s mind these days.
“as President Trump said this morning that he thinks we’re nearing the end. the US kept their side on the cease fire. we’ve stopped firing. the Straits of Vermouth have not been completely reopened.”
the Straits of Vermouth! I fucking love that. that is a Freudian slip for the ages. I’ll bet that’s what Piss-Drunk Pete Kegstand calls it, too.
that’s not, however, what Preznit Fuckwit calls it.
“Italy gets a lot of oil from— the— Strait. you can call it the Strait of Hormuz or the— Hormuz Strait. I said ‘which is better?’ they said ‘either is okay, but you can call it either one. the only thing you can’t call it is the ‘Trump Strait.’ they don’t like that idea.”
wait a minute — who are ‘they’, who Donny’s been in deep conversation with about ‘what to you call that watery thing next to Iran’? has he been talking to the random shrieking noises in his head? or maybe the family of raccoons that live up there?
and believe you me, Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants is dead serious about wanting to call it the ‘Trump Strait.’ he doesn’t crack any smile whatsoever when he says it, and then he goes on to brag about —
“by the way, speaking of that, I did a thing that people like very much, except for Mexico. I took the Gulf of Mexico and we now call it the Gulf of America. it’s not bad.”
the deteriorating old shit can’t even focus for five second on the subject at hand — his disastrous don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran — without his demented mind wandering to his Glorious Victory in the Great Renaming War of 2025.
oh, and pro tip: it’s not the Gulf of America. it’s the Gulf of Release the Full Unedited Epstein Files, You Fucking Liar.
well, that was fun — so let’s take another spin on the Big Wheel of Moron™. here we go!
because Dear Leader is mad at the Pope, now the entire Presidential Ass-Kiss Industrial Complex has be mad at the Pope, too.
Holy Mike Johnson, the limpest dick in Congress, knows what I’m talking about.
“a pontiff or any religious leader can say anything they want, but obviously if you wade into political waters, you should expect some political response and I think the Pope has received some of that. you know, I was taken a little bit aback, just honestly, frankly, by something that was said, I think he said it several days back, something about ‘those who engage in war, Jesus doesn’t hear their prayers’ or something. you know, it is a very well-settled matter of Christian theology, there’s something called the ‘just war’ doctrine.”
oh look — just like Couchfuck McGee, Holy Mike Johnson knows more about popery than all the popes.
I have a question: what sick pleasure does it bring Holy Mike to neuter himself on a daily basis, in service of Dear Leader? it’s like the guy never allows himself a single independent thought. whatever Donny decides on any given day, that’s totes aces with Mike. doesn’t matter if it’s a complete one-eighty from whatever Commander Crazypants said yesterday.
hey, Holy Mike — is this you?
it’s so galling, watching all these hypocrites telling the Pope to zip his fool mouth about religion, if he knows what’s good for him. these are the people who have never once shut the fuck up about how there needs to be more religion in government. these are the same loudmouth zealots who are so horny to force their vision of prayer in the schools — and the Ten Commandments in every classroom — on We the People.
but the second the Pope is all ‘maybe sometimes war is bad and stuff,’they’re all WAIT A MINUTE, WE DIDN’T MEAN RELIGION LIKE THAT.
and so now — just because Pope Chicago Bob was mean to Dear Leader — suddenly it’s open season on Catholics in America.
The Trump Admin has abruptly canceled an $11M contract with Catholic Charities to shelter and care for migrant children who enter the U.S. alone, ending a relationship between the Catholic Church and the U.S. government dating back to the first arrivals of Cuban exiles in South Florida.”
lovely. Donny — the swindler who set up a bogus charity so he could steal money raised in the name of cancer-stricken children — is now punishing a legitimate charity that does actual good work, all because he’s a thin-skinned, vindictive piss-baby prick.
welcome to the United State of Eternal Fucking Embarrassment.
okay, let’s give that Big Wheel of Moron™ one final spin.
“we got these third-world people coming here, these Muslims. you know, they call it a religion. what religion do you know that says ‘if you’re not in our religion, we’re gonna kill ya. and we want you dead’? that’s not a religion. that’s a cult. they took over Europe. it’s gone.”
hey, Tom-Toms, you want to about a cult? because oh boy, do I have a cult for you.
‘the Muslims took over Europe, and its gone’? what the fuck is Terminally-Concussed Tommy talking about?
now, because I’m a responsible journalist and everything, I googled ‘the Muslims took over Europe’ and this is what I learned.
In 711, a Berber-led army under Tariq ibn Ziyad invaded and conquered most of modern-day Spain and Portugal in a seven-year campaign. Muslim rule flourished there for nearly 800 years until the fall of Granada in 1492.
bro, relax. that was thirteen hundred years ago — I’m pretty sure Spain and Portugal came out of it just fine.
fuck all that noise, because it’s time for our hero of the day: New York’s Islamo-communo-marxo-anarcho-fascist Mayor, Zohran Mamdani.
yesterday was April 15th — and in honor of Tax Day, Mayor Mamdani posted this vid to social media.
“when I ran for mayor, I said I was going to tax the rich. well, today we’re taxing the rich. I’m thrilled to announce we’ve secured a pied-a-tierre tax — the first in New York’s history. this is an annual fee on luxury properties worth more then $5 million whose owners do not live full-time in the city. like this penthouse, which hedge fund CEO Ken Griffin bought for $238 million. this pied-a-tierre tax is specifically designed for the richest of the rich. those who store their wealth in New York City real estate, but who don’t actually live here. and most of the time, these units are sitting empty, since, again, they don’t actually live here.”
I fucking love Mamdani. he’s so charming and charismatic — and he’s so freaking good at messaging.
no wonder the oligarchy hates Zohran’s guts. boo fucking hoo, oligarchs.
the morbidly wealthy call this luxury tax a nightmare. I call it a good start — because taxing billionaires out of existence is one sure cure for the heartbreak of fuckbrainoligarchosis.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
























































































































