picture this: it’s a beautiful day at Motel-a-Lago, and everyone is having the time of their lives.

well, not exactly everyone. there’s one deteriorating old coot in serious decline who’s having a bit of a struggle.

‘oh fuck no, it’s happening again.’

‘no, no, not now,’ moans Preznit Fuckwit, as he loads his diaper, right there on the thirteenth green.

‘why?’ he asks. ‘why did Joe Biden do this?’

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seriously, could Donny and his merry band of morons please stop blaming their clownfucktacular failures on Joe Biden?

on Friday night, the struggling Spirit Airlines closed its doors for good. thousands of jobs got flushed down the shitter. why Spirit failed is not a mystery.

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. (AP) — Spirit Airlines, an impish upstart that shook the industry with its irreverent ads and deep discount fares, announced Saturday that it has gone out of business after 34 years.

Although Spirit had gone bankrupt twice before, the company said high oil prices, which have been rising because of the war with Iran, made it impossible to stay aloft.

that’s right, Spirit’s collapse is a direct result of Preznit Fuckwit’s unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran.

I know you’re going to be shocked to hear this, but it turns out that a war that ends up closing down the Strait of Hormuz and sends the price of crude into the stratosphere is kind of bad for a business whose survival depends on cheap and readily-available fuel.

oh, no — wait. there’s one guy who doesn’t agree with this analysis. who is it? why, it’s none other than the Secretary for Making Sure Shit Like This Doesn’t Happen, Sean Duffy.

Sean Duffy on Spirit Airlines: “I think it’s important to talk about why we are here today. Joe Biden and Pete Buttigieg ...”

oh, I see. it’s not Donny’s war and its effect on oil prices. it’s something something Joe Biden.

oh sure, well, if Sean Duffy says so, I guess it’s true. after all, his years of being a washed-up reality show never-was has left him uniquely qualified to understand market forces in corporate America.

here we go again. this is why everything fucking sucks right now. we’ve got a bunch of unqualified crackpots and buffoons like Piss-Drunk Pete and Bobby Brainworms and the Shitblizzard of Oz and Reality Show Sean — all of whom were appointed by Donny and confirmed by the Republican-controlled Congress — making dumb-ass decisions and running like a bunch of colicky raccoons, chewing through all the wires that keep America running smoothly.

and then when shit inevitably goes sideways and America stops functioning, do any of any of these low-wattage dumbfucks actually try to fix what they broke? of course not. their kneejerk response is to blame Joe Biden.

Sean Duffy’s job is make sure planes don’t fall out of the sky. spoiler alert: he’s shit at it, because he spends all his time whining about how airports should have mini-gyms and people who fly should be dressing nicely. way to keep your eye on the ball, Sean.

and when it all goes wrong, it’s not because Sean was focused on stupid bullshit. its because Joe Biden.

Reality Show Sean pulled this shit a year ago, when air traffic control at Newark Airport went blooey. that was somehow Joe Biden’s fault too.

oh, look who’s joining the pile-on. it’s Soybean Scott Bessent.

“This is just more of the mess we inherited from the Biden administration.”

welcome to the Blame Joe Biden presidency of Donny Convict and his madcap gang of complete fucking incompetents. nothing is ever their fault.

some airline goes belly up? blame Joe Biden.

the stock market craters? blame Joe Biden.

some illegal war gets the Strait of Hormuz shut down? blame Joe Biden.

Preznit Fuckwit shits himself raw on the thirteenth green? goddamn Joe Biden.

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the question must be asked: is there a gas leak in the Wall Street Journal editorial offices? because how else can you account for a delusional hot take like this?

“President Trump deserves credit for staying the course on Iran when so many around him are losing their nerve.”

I’m sorry, who deserves what for what? what fucking course has Donny stayed? we’re talking about an erratic hair-trigger lunatic who changes his deranged mind more often than he changes his diaper.

one minute he’s threatening to destroy an entire civilization. the next minute he’s bragging about how well negotiations are going. then in the next breath he’s whining about how he can’t trust anyone in Iran. one day we’re bombing. the next day we’re not. yeah, that’s some coherent course-saying right there.

that’s not being resolute. that’s being bugfuck nuts.

check out this clip from yesterday. in the span of twenty seconds, Donny changes his story three or four times.

reporter: “under what circumstances would you restart military strikes on Iran?”

Donny: “well I don’t want to say that, I mean I can’t tell that to a reporter. if they uh misbehave, do something bad, but— uh— right now— we’ll see. but uh, it’s, it’s a possibility that could happen.”

if they misbehave? what, is Iran a child melting down in a supermarket?

‘Iran, you put that down right now. Iran!’

don’t you miss having a president with an adult-level vocabulary? Donny speaks as if he had been repeatedly dropped on his head as an infant. I’ll bet that’s somehow Joe Biden’s fault, too.

all this talk of restarting military strikes if Iran ahem misbehaves comes less than twenty-four hours after Donny declared that ‘hostilities in Iran have ended.’

now, ‘hostilities have ended’ is a statement that military experts and strategists would call ‘a fucking lie’ — because the continued presence of the US naval blockade of Iran’s ports implies that a state of war still exists.

this is a contradiction that was not lost on at least one reporter.

reporter: “in your letter to Congress, you said the hostilities in Iran have concluded. how can you say that, given the naval blockade?”

Donny: “well, it’s a very friendly blockade.”

oh, it’s a friendly blockade. I see. well, that all makes perfect sen—

excuse me, but WHAT THE FUCK IS A FRIENDLY BLOCKADE? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

is our Navy being polite as it boards Iranian oil tankers trying to sail past our warships? are they doling out chocolates and nylons, as if they were infantry liberating Paris during World War II?

now, because I’m a Responsible Journalist and Everything™, I googled ‘friendly sailor gif’ — and this is what I got.

so there you are, there’s your ‘very friendly blockade.’ now you know.

Donny is not ‘staying the course,’ he’s out of his fucking mind — and the sooner the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press stop sanewashing Dear Leader into some kind of rational statesman, the sooner we might find out way out of this utter fucking nightmare.

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fuck all that noise.

let’s go out on a high note. after I posted photos of the late Ms. Spouse the other day, some folks asked to see more.

sure, why not? here’s another. this is from our wedding day, September 2, 1984.

holy shit, look how fucking young we were.

now here’s my favorite photo of us as oldsters. you’ve no doubt seen it before, because I’ve posted it a few times. it’s a selfie I took a couple-three years ago.

I miss Claudia so much.

have a great Sunday, everyone.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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

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monday: he likes them what?

frankly, I think it’s nice that our piss-drunk Secretary of Death was able to take some time off from his busy schedule of gleefully dropping bombs on Iranian schoolgirls to have a playdate with that noise-adjacent caterwauler, Too Old To Be A Kid Too Impaired To Rock.

the question must be asked: what in the actual small-batch artisanal fuck?

who thought this was an acceptable idea? why is it that our government never has any money when people need healthcare, or when children need a simple hot school lunch, but whenever some shrieking washed-up never-was wants to take a seven-thousand-dollar-an-hour joyride in an attack helicopter, the Donnysphere bends over backwards to accommodate him?

fix America’s actual problems first, you shit-kazoos. then you can waste all the money you want on performative dumbfuckery.

now tell me this: what wisdom could Piss Right Off, You’re Not A Kid possibly be imparting to the assembled crowd in the Pentagon press room?

maybe he’s reciting the lyrics to his charming song, Cool Daddy Cool.

young ladies, young ladies
I like ’em underage
see some say that’s statutory
but I say that’s mandatory

I’ll bet Jeffrey Epstein fucking loved that ditty.

I have a suggestion: if Not A Kid is so horny to do warmonger cosplay, let him enlist and go off to fight in Donny and Petey’s don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran.

no, wait. that would require actual courage.

oh and, Not Even Close To Being A Kid, can we talk? the next time Piss-Drunk Pete rings you up and asks you if you want to hang, tell him you’ve always wanted to go skateboarding with him. trust me. will be wild.

tuesday: kai yi yi

folks, pour one out for Preznit Fuckwit’s granddaughter Kai. she’s going through some things right now.

“I mean, hey. people— some people don’t like me, I mean 50 % of the world doesn’t like me because of my last name. one time I was out in public and someone literally walked up to me to tell me that my grandpa sucks.”

folks, how sad it is that the grifting grifter who has gone into the family business of selling merch and profiting off her famous name is catching shit for it?

Mayor Mamdani, can you and Ms. Rachel step in here for a moment and do us a solid?

thanks, guys.

now let’s do a quick fact check: does Kai’s grandfather suck?

apparently, yes.

I see two paths forward for Kai Trump at this point. one would be to do what Josef Stalin’s daughter Svetlana did — she solved that ‘your dad kinda sucks’ shit in a hot second by changing her name to Lana Peters and moving to Wisconsin, of all places. I shit you not.

or wait — even better, Kai could be like her first cousin once removed, Mary. when strangers come up to Mary Trump and tell her that her uncle totally fucking sucks, she high-fives them and is all ‘you don’t know the half of it.’

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wednesday: she should have turned him into a human being

Christofascist hate-factory Joel Webbon is such a charmer.

“you look at Paula White, the chief faith advisor to Donald Trump, you look at some of the clips of her rolling on the ground, waving a coat and trying to slay people in the spirit, and ‘riririririririri’ speaking in tongues, she’s a witch. she’s a witch. she’s not just a Christian with some bad theology. she’s a wolf, she’s a false teacher — but even more than that, as a woman, I think that it is technically accurate to say she is … a witch.”

okay, let’s grant that Mister Stopped Clock here is right about a few things: Paula White is in fact a grifting charlatan who pretends to speak in tongues and has Donny Convict totally bamboozled.

but is she actually a witch?

well, Wytchfinder Joel has proof of Paula White’s witching witchery: she turned him into a newt — but don’t worry, folks. he got better.

well — okay, the ‘got better’ part is open to debate, because can we really ever say that a hate-doling antisemitic misogynist ‘got better’?

thursday: all that glitters

wingnut screech-monkey Lance Wallnau has a few things he needs to get off his somewhat sparkly chest.

“let’s face it, most of the media’s left. it’s not evenly divided. you got, I saw Politico, and The New York Times—”

wait, wait, hang on. I’m sorry, I drifted off and stopped listening to Lance almost immediately, because I got distracted by— dude, what on god’s green shit-tangle are you wearing?

did you crash your car into a glitter factory on your way to the studio? have you been moonlighting at drag queen story hours?

bro, I’ve got Liberace on the phone. he says to tone it way the fuck down.

you’re giving him a headache.

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friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™

for once in his chaotic, look-at-me-look-at-me life, some fucking idiot actually had a quiet morning. there were no public appearances on his official schedule, and the feed on his crappy app stayed relatively free of batshittery.

it wasn’t until later in the afternoon that the fucking idiot popped out of his spider hole to inflict himself upon the world.

at 3pm, the fucking idiot addressed an audience from the Florida retirement community The Villages.

he played ‘Live and Let Die,’ which is a totally appropriate song to play for the extreme elderly.

the amost-80-year-old, gripping the podium for dear life, both hands visibly rotting, blithered about being ‘young, vital and vibrant.’

the fucking idiot bragged about being the shittiest boss ever.

the fucking idiot also committed a racism, because of course he did.

fact check: Ilhan Omar did not marry her brother. that’s a racist lie that racists like to tell because racists suck.

once again, the fucking idiot bragged about acing the test they only give you if they have a good reason to suspect you have brain damage, by successfully pointing to a drawing of a camel — oh no, wait, this time it was a bear.

tell me, were percentages on the fucking idiot’s dementia test? I’m guessing not.

finally, the fucking idiot cautioned against his own presidency.

trust us, homey, we all understand what it’s like to be stuck with a president who’s a moron.

mere mortals would have been exhausted after all that — but the fucking idiot isn’t like you or me. he still had some gas left in the tank. between eleven pm and midnight, the fucking idiot started shitting lunacy onto his crappy app.

what kind of fucking idiot would think it appropriate to joke about swimming in the Reflecting Pool? the fucking idiot kind, that’s who.

also, in your dreams you’re that svelte, you floating sack of shit.

oh look, the losing loser who’s lost his war in Iran is imaging he’s a winner.

the only cards you hold are jokers, dumbfuck.

and of all the things that are never going to happen, this next one is never going to happen the most.

now, because it was the middle of the night and the fucking idiot was holed up all alone in his vermin-infested Florida golf motel, not one reporter was around to stand up and ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

how fucking idiotic is that?

saturday: ?

hey, it’s still morning as I sit here writing this — but give it time, I guarantee you that some dipshit wingnut is going to do something stupid before the day is over. you can set your watch to it.

do you have a nomination for This Week in Stupid? email me at jefftiedrich@gmail.com. thanks!

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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 Preznit Fuckwit’s unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran drags on, bringing uncertainty and economic chaos in its wake, his enablers in the Donnyverse have a clear message for We the People: soaring inflation and unaffordable goods and services are just small price we pay for the privilege of living in a fascist kleptocracy headed by a racist imbecile in steep cognitive decline.

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besides, just think of how much your grandchildren will thank you.

seriously, that was the actual line of bullshit spewed by this babbling yutz who showed up on Fox Business yesterday.

“yes, there is going to be some pain now, but in the end — it may not be in six months, it may not be a year — but for the future, if this plays out the way President Trump wants to to play out in Iran … it could lead to an energy future where my kids and my grandkids will be paying pennies on the dollar compared to what we’re paying now for energy.”

‘have faith in Dear Leader’s plan’ — oh no, that doesn’t sound cultish at all.

what kind of pie-in-the-sky everybody-gets-a-pony magical thinking is this? it’s based on zero facts, yet it’s the shit sandwich that Fox Business is shoving into the faces of their gullible viewers: just you wait, we’re going to get everything sorted in a decade or two.

holy shit. Fox News — the official state propaganda wing of the GOP — has given up on even pretending that that prices will come down any time soon. they’ve moved on to talking about the amazing life your grandchildren will have, because of Dear Leader’s Glorious Twenty-Year Plan.

come on, Fox, you gotta keep that shit short. MAGA doesn’t have that kind of attention span. for fuck’s sake, even the commies knew to constrain their lies to a five-year time frame.

Republican policies have done fuck-all to improve the lives of We the People. everyone understands this, because everyone’s lives are getting demonstrably shittier and shittier as the price of everything keeps going up and up — to the point where even MAGA is starting to be all ‘what the crap, dude?’

Dear Leader is fucking toxic right now. here’s Chris Hayes on MS-whatever-they-call-it-now, having the time of his life as he cackles with glee over how completely under the shitter Donny’s numbers are.

“take a look at this chart. we were sort of marveling over this one today. a lot of charts don’t read on TV, but I think this one gives you the point. that’s from pollster G. Elliot Morris, who tracks Trump’s approval on several different issues. and you can see there are a bunch of different issues, they all go in the same direction, they all go down. but the one that’s the lowest all the way at the bottom of your TV screen, the green line, that is Donald Trump’s approval on inflation and the cost of living. of course, that includes gas prices … and as you can see, Trump is just almost incomprehensibly unpopular when it comes to prices. literally off the chart. he is so underwater, in fact, that he is off the chart. that chart doesn’t go low enough to show his massive minus-forty approval on the issue. Donald Trump is currently less popular on inflation than that man on your screen, Jimmy Carter.”

Chris Hayes has literally become the ‘lets all throw ours heads back and laugh’ meme.

now, because I’m a Responsible Journalist and Everything™, I found a high-resolution version of the G. Elliott Morris chart Chris Hayes showed on TV. here it is.

oh, and nobody wants a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™, either.

“Americans reject Trump’s White House ballroom by a 2-to-1 margin, according to a WaPo-ABC-Ipsos poll. 56% oppose the ballroom. 28% support the project.”

it any wonder that the American people have lost faith in Dear Leader in every category? none of this shit is popular, because none of it helps any of us — and now we’re being told that it’s OUR job to come up with the four hundred million dollars that this fugly dance hall is going to cost.

by the way, fuck MAGA. they were totally down with fascist fuckery such as masked thugs teargassing children in Minneapolis, and disappearing immigrants into Salvadoran slave-labor gulags. they ate that shit up, and applauded it. they only got mad at Dear Leader once their own lives started being inconvenienced.

boo fucking hoo, MAGA.

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you know that things are getting bad for the Donnyverse when even a reliable pro-GOP mouthpiece like CNBC’s Joe Kernen starts being all ‘wait a minute, fuckface, none of that shit is true.’

check out Kernen fact-checking white supremacy’s middle manager, Steve Scalise, in real-time.

Steve Scalise: “we’ve delivered. people will remember that 2 years ago, we were paying almost $6 a gallon. right now it’s in the threes.”

Joe Kernen: “when were we paying $6?”

Scalise: “two an a half years ago.”

Kernan: “that wasn’t the average price.”

Scalise: “we’re bringing things down so we can make life affordable.”

Kernan: “two years ago, in April of 2024, we were about $3.65.”

lies are all the GOP has at this point — lies, and promises of the wonderful world our grandkids are going to live in. they’re kidding themselves if they think the majority of voters are going to buy any of that twaddle.

speaking of kidding one’s self, let’s check in on the king of denial. oh look, Donny actually believes he’s won his war.

“we’ve already won, but I want to win by a bigger margin.”

Jesus. talk about delusion. remember, this is the guy who thinks he’s healthy enough to be an astronaut. he lives in a complete fantasy world where up is down, in is out, a rat’s nest of piss-colored straw is a decent hairstyle, and a clusterfuck that’s shut down the entire Strait of Hormuz and sent gas prices soaring is some kind of win.

just more perfectly normal stuff, right? I guess we just need to trust in Dear Leader’s Twenty Year Plan To Sort This Shit Out.

don’t you wish that at least one of Donny’s merry band of shitwits had the courage to clue him in on the truth, that we’re losing bigly in Iran? but who’s going to do it? not Plastered Pete — he shares the same we-already-won delusion that Donny labors under. and certainly not Liddle Marco. he’s so neutered that he’s too scared to tell Dear Leader that his shoes don’t fit.

but that’s the brain trust that’s waging this war: a demented moron, a piss-drunk psychopath, and a coward who can’t walk three steps without tripping over his own feet.

it would be hilarious if it weren’t completely fucking horrifying.

and while we’re on the subject of hilarious if it weren’t horrifying, what the fuck is this?

what the hell? does Donny actually believe he served three terms in office? is he seriously accusing Barack HUSSEIN Obama of not being able to pass a cognitive exam? that’s an all-new accusation.

Barack, do you have any idea what Donny is gibbering about?

yeah, neither do we.

could someone please hand Dear Leader his pudding cup and lead him to bed? he’s sundowning again.

well, we made it to Friday, everyone. this has been one fuck of a week, hasn’t it?

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

friends,

it has been two and a half months since the passing of my wife Claudia.

continuing to write these daily posts has been for me an essential part of my grieving process. but every now and then, the profound sadness of it all becomes just too overwhelming — and so today I must give myself another day off.

I feel adrift and unmoored, and I miss Claudia so much.

let me once again take a moment to say thank you to the thousands of people who have posted, commented, private messaged, texted, and phoned to offer condolences. I love you all. I am blessed to be surrounded by an amazing, caring community.

thank you for hanging in there with me. see you tomorrow.

but wait, before I take off — this wouldn’t be a real post unless it had some serious Donnyloathing in it, so let me do couple of quick hits on some of the shit that went down yesterday.

first item: Preznit Fuckwit held an Oval Bordello playdate with the Artemis II astronauts, because of course he did. basking in the glory of someone else’s accomplishments is one of his favorite pastimes.

listen to this delusional dipshit run his rancid anus-mouth.

“[to be an astronaut] you have to be very smart. you have to do a lot of things physically good. so I would have had no trouble making it. I’m physically very, very good. we’ll have to try it sometimes. is a president allowed to go up in one of these missions?”

my god, he’s like a toddler, jealous because some other kid got a cool new toy, and he didn’t.

Donny is so fucking broken inside that he can’t let these phenomenal astronauts who broke the record for distance traveled into outer space enjoy their amazing accomplishment without bragging about how he could have done it, too.

let’s see, is Donny physically fit enough to go into space? let’s do a quick fact check:

oh, sure — go for it, bro.

tell me, do spacesuits come in size roly-poly?

I know I keep saying this, but it never stops being true: oh, to have the supreme and serene self-confidence of a mediocre imbecile like Donny. it must be nice.

you know what? let’s do this. absolutely, let’s pack Dear Leader into a rocket. let’s see how well he does. oh, and not to brag or anything, but I came up with the idea of sending the entire Donnyverse into space seven years ago.

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second item: tell me, is it a bad thing when the president of the United States is in such steep cognitive decline that he can no remember which country he’s lying about having defeated?

“I think Ukraine, militarily, they’re defeated. okay? mililili— you wouldn’t know that by reading the fake news, but militarily, look, their— navy. they had a hundred and fifty nine ships. every ship is right now underwater. typically that’s pretty good.”

no, you stupid shit, that’s Iran who you keep imagining is ‘militarily defeated.’ but sure, let’s all scream at Zelenskyy to stop being a dick and open up the goddamned Strait of Hormuz already.

could someone please wake up Jake Tapper? I’ve got a hot scoop for him: Dear Leader is bugfuck nuts.

maybe he’d want to write a book about that.

we need a palate cleanse after that dumbfuckery, and I’ve got a good one.

I found this while searching through some files a couple of days ago. this is the very first photo I took of Claudia, forty-six years ago, in the spring of 1980, on MacDougal Street in Manhattan.

now here’s Claudia’s final photo, taken on her birthday last February, four days before her passing.

sigh. I miss her so much.

that’s it for today, I’m outta here. thanks again for hanging in there with me. I promise you that I am taking my own advice: practicing self-care and doing everything I need to do to keep sane. see you tomorrow.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

King Charles III, can we talk?

Charles, why are you doing this? why are you conferring legitimacy onto a piss-baby fascist by gracing him with your royal presence? there’s no good reason for it. what’s in it for you? you’re a literal king. it’s right there in your title. you could be doing anything else with your time right now.

no world leader needs to be giving Donny the time of day. he’s turned the United States into a pariah state, so treat him like the pariah he is. just say no.

plus, Donny’s an unpredictable ticking time bomb. meet with him, and you’re basically spinning the Big Wheel of Bugfuck. anything could happen. worst case, you’ll end up dogpiled in the Oval Bordello like Zelenskyy.

best case, you’ll simply stand around helplessly while Donny makes a fool of himself.

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Donny, what the fuck are you doing? did you catch what just happened in that clip? dude cut in front of King Charles and prevented him from shaking hands. how rude. who does that?

but of course, blocking British royalty is kind of Donny’s signature move.

for fuck’s sake, Donny — how about having a little situational awareness?

in fact, do not ever stand between Donny and a camera, or you’ll be in for a rude awakening, as the Prime Minister of Montenegro found out during a 2017 NATO photo op.

what a dick.

but that’s what happens when you spin the Big Wheel of Bugfuck — and that’s why, when Donny invited King Charles to America, the king should have replied that he would have loved to, but he literally had to be doing anything else on the planet.

and of course Donny made the royal visit all about himself.

“in a few hours, His Majesty will stand in the heart— of the United States Capitol as the very first British king ever to adrist— a— joint session— of— the— United States Congress, so he’s gonna be addressing— Congress, and I’m gonna be watching. I was thinking of going but they said I don’t know. that might be a step too far. I would love to go— it’s not supposed to be protocol but I would love to be with you.”

yeah, he actually said ‘adrist.’

Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants’ rapidly-increasing deterioration is impossible to ignore. he can no longer read. he’s completely flummoxed by the one-syllable words his handlers have written for him. dragging Donny out in public and forcing him to speechify is really at this point a form of elder abuse.

do you think Donny has any idea what the words he’s struggling to pronounce mean? he seems completely mystified by what he’s saying. he also seems completely mystified by punctuation, as he mechanically gasps out each word.

“majestic inheritance their veins ran with Anglo-Saxon courage their hearts beat with an English faith in standing firm for what is right good and true.”

majestic inheritance whaaaaat?

I’m surprised that Republicans haven’t turned Donny’s cognitive decline into yet another reason for why he needs a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™.

by the way, Donny missed a perfect opportunity to ask King Charles about the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow. I certainly would have.

when you’re a king, you’re supposed to know that shit. in fact, if it were me up there at the podium, I would have done the entire ‘strange women lying in ponds’ monologue for King Charles. I’ll bet he would have rather heard that than Donny’s fucked-up mangling of ‘Anglo-Saxon curge.’

now tell me, who wore it better, Melania—

or the lamp that’s on my desk right now?

oh, and fuck the entire White House social media team. can you believe they actually had the nerve to post this?

no. fuck no. this is repugnant. is it supposed to be a joke? because it’s not funny. we don’t have a king in the US of A. we fought a whole Revolutionary War about it, remember?

I’ve read the entire Constitution, and I don’t recall anything in it about ‘how about in 249 years we try having a king again only this time he’s really fucking dumb.’

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fucking shit up in front of the King of England wasn’t the only item on Donny’s agenda yesterday. dude actually had a busy day.

his Department of Don’t You Dare Call It Justice indicted James Comey for the heinous crime of Seashell Arrangement With Intent to Mock.

no, really. they’re calling this a ‘threat on Donny’s life.’ what utter fucking horse shit.

At a news conference on Tuesday, the F.B.I. director, Kash Patel, said that Mr. Comey “disgracefully encouraged a threat on President Trump’s life and posted it on Instagram for the world to see.”

The three-page indictment makes a similar claim, asserting that “a reasonable recipient who is familiar with the circumstances would interpret” the message written in seashells “as a serious expression of an intent to do harm to President Trump.”

of course this dumbfuck indictment is going to get laughed out of court in a heartbeat — but convicting Comey of Grand Arrangement Seashells isn’t the goal here. the goal is to intimidate you and I — We the People — into being afraid to exercise our First Amendment right to ridicule the shit out of Dear Leader.

do not obey in advance. obeying in advance is how fascism wins.

Donny also found time to hallucinate all over his crappy app.

Iran has just informed us that they are in a “State of Collapse.” They want us to “Open the Hormuz Strait,” as soon as possible, as they try to figure out their leadership situation (Which I believe they will be able to do!). Thank you for your attention to this matter! President DONALD J. TRUMP

yeah, no. Iran said nothing of the kind. Donny’s just making shit up. he’s posting nonsense like this because — as we like to say around here — those markets aren’t going to manipulate themselves.

now let’s watch as ABC News teaches a master class in how you cover the mouth-farts of a lying liar who lies.

President Trump wrote, without citing evidence, that “Iran has just informed us that they are in a ‘State of Collapse.’”

oh look — ABC News actually put ‘without citing evidence’ in the header of their post.

that’s important, because all too often our media simply parrots verbatim whatever Dear Leader says, without noting that he has a propensity for lying about every fucking thing.

could the worthless scribblers actually be learning? let’s keep our fingers crossed.

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everything fucking sucks right now, so let’s just enjoy thirty seconds of Dear Leader’s Slovenian rent-a-wife, who seems completely grossed out at having to hold the rotting hand of the malignant toad she’s married to.

what a happy, well-adjusted couple. how much do you think Melly got paid for having to endure half a minute of physical contact?

oh, and tell me, who wore it better — Donny, or Elmer Fudd?

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

everything fucking sucks right now. we’re bogged down in an unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran. We the People struggle to pay our bills as the price of gas, goods, and services continues to soar. you’d better pray you don’t get sick, because a hospital stay will bankrupt you. masked government thugs roam the streets of our cities — and don’t you dare look at them funny, because they will shoot you on the spot and then say you had it coming.

oh, and the government is about to run out of money again.

so, is America’s ruling party doing anything to fix any of that shit? of course not. what these useless pantloads are completely obsessed with right now is building Preznit Fuckwit’s vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™.

welcome to life in the United States of Utter Fucking Embarrassment.

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Lindsey Graham: “if you don’t think four hundred million dollars of taxpayer is a good investment to create a secure facility at the White House ... the number one job of the federal government is national security. the number one job of national security would be to protect the commander-in-chief, and to have infrastructure under the ballroom that is very national security-centric.”

oh, please. could Old Lindz pull his nose out of Donny’s ass for one lousy second and fuck himself straight into the ocean? the number one job of any government is to take care of its people. this is a truth that we have completely lost sight of in America, where we’ve been gaslighted by some ludicrous fairy tail about how the oligarchy must come first, and all their bounteous table scraps will come trickling down to us if we wait long enough.

news flash: we’ve been waiting for forty years. it ain’t happening.

the thirdworldification of America is almost complete. ‘Dear Leader needs a gaudy monument to himself’ is some real tinpot dictator shit. this is exactly the kind of thing we used to mock backwards countries for.

it’s fucking infuriating.

and to add insult to injury, We the People are now being told that it’s our job to pay for that shit — to the tune of at least four hundred million taxpayer dollars.

wait a minute, what kind of bullshit is this? Donny swore up and down that his fugly dance hall was going to cost us taxpayers nothing. here he is on February 5, 2025, saying exactly that.

“it’s going to cost nothing. I will spend the whole thing myself.”

(yes, Donny is too cognitively impaired to understand the difference between ‘raise’ and ‘spend,’ but let’s set that aside for the moment.)

Donny’s whole sales pitch was how all his oligarch snugglebunnies were going to foot the entire bill, our of the goodness of their sclerotic hearts. you know, people like Jeff Bezos and his personal flotation device.

in fact, Donny claimed to have already raised three hundred mil.

Trump has said that the administration has raised about $300 million for the project.

tell me, please, because I really want to know: where the fuck is that money? did it get up and walk away? is it now in one of Donny’s bank accounts?

did it ever exist in the first place, or was Donny just making shit up again?

and why is the entire Republican Party all of a sudden so horny to build Dear Leader’s vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™? what’s in it for them?

don’t expect a straight answer from shitweasels like Lindsey Graham. as always, We the People have been cordially invited to go fuck ourselves.

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we’re being told that because Dear Leader’s life is in constant danger, the only safe place for him to be is locked away in some fortified, drone-proof dance hall, behind seven-inch-thick bulletproof glass.

once again, we’re being gaslighted. it only takes about five seconds of critical thinking for all this dumbfuckery to unravel.

here’s a question: if any of that horse shit is true, then why does Donny spend half his life outdoors, cheating at golf?

do you see any seven-inch-thick bulletproof glass on that golf cart? is any of that shit drone-proof? are we supposed to believe that Dear Leader’s mortal life is in constant danger as he waddles around the ninth green?

in fact, Donny spends almost every weekend at one of his vermin-infested golf motels. I don’t remember any of them having a super-secure dance hall.

look at these two beauties, hanging out at Motel-a-Lago. at any moment they could be droned into smithereens, leaving only a pile of smoking silicone.

shouldn’t someone warn them?

if Donny is truly taking his life in his hands every time he ventures out in public, then what the fuck was he doing hanging out a UFC match? that doesn’t look very secure to me.

tell me, is the Super Bowl drone-proof?

the fact is that for the umpteenth time, We the People are being lied to.

the real reason Dear Leader needs a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ is that Dear Leader wants a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™. that’s the beginning and end of it, and whatever happens to be going on in the news at any given moment becomes the rationale. is there a state function? well, we shoulda hadda dance hall. did Donny shit his diaper again? a dance hall would have prevented that. oh, did some yutz try to take a pot-shot at Donny? sorry, Mr. and Mrs. America, it’s time for you fork over four hundred million dollars. Dear Leader’s safety is at stake.

you know what? if the only thing that will keep a person safe from gunfire in America is a vulgar dance hall, then let’s build one for every schoolchild, so we’ll never have to go through this again.

wouldn’t that be a far better use of our money?

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here’s your hero of the day: Jimmy Fucking Kimmel, who is once again thumbing his nose in the faces of Dear Leader and his Slovenian rent-a-wife.

welcome to the latest manufactroversy to come out of the Donnyverse. on Friday — a full day before the events of the White House Correspondents Dinner — Kimmel delivered the following joke during his show.

Look at Melania, so beautiful. Mrs. Trump, you have a glow like an expectant widow.

okay, fine — maybe in hindsight it was ill-timed, but how the fuck was Kimmel supposed to know that?

besides, it’s a joke all of us have made at one point or another.

but because there must never be any ridicule of America’s Royal Family, Donny and Melly completely lost their shit and demanded Kimmel be fired.

I’m sorry, but Melania did not write that by herself. remember, English is not one of the five languages she allegedly speaks.

have Donny and Melly learned nothing from the last time they whined like piss-babies about something Kimmel said?

don’t make stupid demands about him being fired. don’t even try. Jimmy Kimmel doesn’t give a shit about any of that.

now here’s Jimmy, serving up a big slice of Go Fuck Yourself Pie during his opening monologue last night.

“you know how sometimes you wake up in the morning and the First Lady puts out a statement demanding that you be fired from your job? we’ve all been there, right? we’re seeing yet another twitter vomit-storm, and a call to fire me from our First Lady, Melania Trump, saying I should be fired because of a joke I made, again, five nights ago. it was a pretend roast, I said that ‘our First Lady Melania’s here, look at her, so beautiful, Mrs. Trump, you have a glow like an expectant widow.’ which obviously was a joke about their age difference and the look of joy we see on her face every time they’re together. it was a very light roast joke about the fact that he’s almost 80 and she’s younger than I am. it was not by any stretch of the imagination a call to assassination — and they know that. I’ve been very vocal for many years, speaking out against gun violence in particular. but I understand that the First Lady had a stressful experience over the weekend, and probably every weekend is pretty stressful in that house, and I agree hateful and violent rhetoric is something we should reject. I do, and I think a great place to start to dial that back would be to have a conversation with your husband about it.”

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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 we go again.

every time shit goes sideways and some deranged fuckstick gets it in his defective head to use Dear Leader for target practice, the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press trot out the same old bad-faith accusation.

‘Democrats, aren’t you ashamed of yourselves for causing this to happen?’

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CNN’s Dana Bash: “and you have, and many of your fellow Democrats have used some heated rhetoric against the president — and do you think twice about that when something like that happens?”

Congressman Jamie Raskin: “what rhetoric do you have in mind?”

Bash: “well, just talking about the fact that he is that he’s terrible for this country and so on and so forth.”

oh, come on. ‘Preznit Fuckwit is terrible for this country’ isn’t heated rhetoric, it’s an objective truth.

in the span of a little over a year, he’s tanked the economy, shredded the Constitution, made a mockery of our laws, alienated our allies, started an illegal war, turned our cities in war zones, and demolished half the White House.

how is that not terrible for the country? and how it is wrong to point this out? what are Democrats supposed to do, just roll over and let it happen?

but beyond that, this kneejerk ‘but what about the Democratic rhetoric’ response is fucking infuriating — because I happen to know of a guy whose ‘heated rhetoric’ switch is permanently stuck in the ‘on’ position.

he threatens to ‘destroy entire civilizations.’ he calls for his political opponents to be jailed — or even executed. he calls immigrants ‘vermin.’ he calls protesters ‘domestic terrorists.’

can you guess who I’m talking about?

yeah, this anus-mouthed asshole. Donny von Schitzenpants.

in fact, Donny’s fuckery goes well beyond ‘rhetoric.’ does anyone remember this fun little incident?

WASHINGTON (AP) — Former President Donald Trump posted on his social media platform what he claimed was the home address of former President Barack Obama on the same day that a man with guns in his van was arrested near the property, federal prosecutors said Wednesday in revealing new details about the case.

that happened in July 2023, when Donny was a private citizen. did any member of the press call out Donny for endangering the life of a former president?

no, it was fucking crickets all the way down.

no one in the press said boo. they just issued another free pass in the lifetime of free passes Donny has gotten for being the worst possible person imaginable.

got that? if you’re a Democrat, you better watch your fucking mouth and be prepared to apologize, in case some lunatic overhears you. but if you’re Dear Leader, you are forever a Very Special Boy Who Gets To Say And Do Anything He Wants.

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oh look, it’s Shouty McShirtsleeves, the half-dressed degenerate wrestling coach. let’s hear what this over-amped dipshit has to add to the discourse. I’m sure it’s a doozy.

“I don’t think this should be lost on anyone either, the fact that we have a third assassination attempt on President Trump in that same week we learned that the Southern Poverty Law Center has been paying and generating hate.”

fuck completely off, Jimmy.

how is what happened Saturday night the fault of the Southern Poverty Law Center? once again, Donny’s enablers and apologists are playing a vigorous round of Pin The Tail On The Most Convenient Scapegoat.

before last week, 99% of MAGA had never even heard of the Southern Poverty Law Center — but now, thanks to another one of Dear Leader’s ginned-up politically-motivated persecutions, the SPLC is suddenly the root of all evil.

you know, it was just a year ago that Republican rhetoric got a Democratic Congresswoman assassinated.

where were the calls for Republicans to turn down their heated rhetoric? where were the finger-pointers and the tut-tutters who never tire of blaming all our country’s ills on Democrats?

oh, right.

remember when Paul Pelosi got attacked by some hammer-wielding maniac? Republicans laughed their faces off at an 83-year-old being woken by an intruder in the middle of the night and savagely beaten into unconsciousness. they made sick jokes. they posted tasteless memes, trafficked in conspiracy theories, and implied that Pelosi had it coming to him.

even presidential failson Cokey McSniffles got into the act.

where was the mainstream press? did they call for the GOP to cut that shit out? no, they were too busy hiding somewhere with their heads stuck in the sand. they didn’t say one word over that shameful incident.

but please, tell me one more time about how some fuckhead with a grudge and a gun trying to crash the White House Correspondents Dinner is the fault of the Democrats’ heated rhetoric. I can’t get enough of that fever-swamp fairy tale.

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it’s maddening that our press continues to fail us, over and over — not just by normalizing Republican shitfuckery and dogpiling Democrats every time the press needs a whipping boy, but also by presenting a version of Dear Leader that’s a complete fantasy.

has the Wall Street Journal editorial board been smoking crack?

“The comparison to Lincoln may seem immodest, but Trump stood with presidential stature on Saturday.”

‘presidential’ — the press keeps using that word. I don’t think it means what they think it means.

for ten excruciatingly long years, the worthless scribblers have been holding Donny to the lowest bar imaginable. all he has to do is refrain from taking off his diaper and emptying it on his head, and the press falls all the fuck over itself in a mad dash to declare that ‘this is the moment when Dear Leader became presidential.’

are you ready for some prime wishcasting? I hope so, because here comes PBS to talk about a newly-humbled Donny who exists only in the minds of the Washington press corps.

“President Donald Trump was somberly contemplative and unusually conciliatory after confronting what he saw as a third attempt on his life in less than two years.”

oh please, Donny’s been a malignant toad for the entire 79 years he’s been walking the planet. nothing is going to make him change overnight. nothing. but our media wants us to believe that if we all click our heels together three times, pigs will fly out of our asses and magically turn Dear Leader into a wise elder statesman.

now let’s check in with President Contemplative and Conciliatory, because I’m pretty sure it only took one day for him to go back to being a compete piece of shit.

60 Minutes host Norah O’Donnell: “and he also wrote this: ‘I’m no longer willing to permit a pedophile, rapist and traitor to coat my hands with his crimes.’ what’s your reaction to that?”

Donny: “well I was waiting for you to read that, because I knew you would, because you’re— horrible people. yeah, he did write that. I am not a rapist. I didn’t rape anybody.”

O’Donnell: “oh, you think he was referring to you?”

Donny: “you should be ashamed of yourself, reading that, ’cause I’m not any of those things.”

O’Donnell: “Mr. President—”

Donny: “excuse me, excuse me. you shouldn’t be reading that on 60 Minutes. you’re a disgrace.”

Donny’s such a charmer, isn’t he? wait, where did newly-minted conciliatory statesman go? because all I’m seeing is the same old thin-skinned piss-baby who doles out childish insults to anyone he deems unfair to him — especially if it’s a woman.

I must say that I fucking love Norah O’Donnell’s comeback, “oh, you think he was referring to you?”

what a breath of fresh air, to see her commit that perfectly timed journalism.

we absolutely need to gif the shit out of O’Donnell’s fake-shocked expression.

by the way, where have we heard this before — a sitting president denying being the criminal that he so obviously is?

oh, right.

and while we’re on the subject, let’s do a quick fact check.

oh, okay. I’m glad we got that cleared up.

look, what happened Saturday night wasn’t the fault of any Democrats’ heated rhetoric. it was the fault of a country that glorifies gun culture and makes it far too easy for deadly weapons to fall into the hands of any dipshit hell-bent on causing mayhem.

and it certainly didn’t help that Donny’s flunkies absolutely fell down on the job when it came to providing adequate security.

how about we fix that shit first?

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

what the fuck just happened?

here’s what we know so far: some complete rando with an unknown grudge obtained a weapon, just as our founders intended. he then attempted to take that weapon into the White House Correspondents Dinner, just as our founders intended.

shots were fired, just as our founders intended, pandemonium ensued, just as our founders intended, and Preznit Fuckwit used the occasion to whine about why he needs a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™, just as our founders intended.

it was just another perfectly normal day in the United States of Guntopia.

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goddammit, the universe had one job: to let me doze peacefully in front my TV on a Saturday night.

the Secret Service had one job: to not have let a gunman enter the building.

the press also had one job: to report accurately on what had just occurred right in front of their very eyes.

and Donny had one job as well: to not be a ginormous grievance-baby.

everyone fucking failed.

“and uh, we looked at— all of the conditions that took place tonight, I will say, y’know, it’s not— a particularly secure building and uhhhhh— I didn’t want to say this, but this is why we have to have— all of the— attributes of what we’re planning at the White House. it’s actually a larger room and it’s uh much more secure, it’s got— it’s drone-proof, it’s bulletproof glass, we need the ballroom. that’s why Secret Service, that’s why the military are demanding it. they’ve wanted the ballroom for a hundred and fifty years for— lots of different reasons, but today’s uh a little bit different ’cause today— we— need levels of security that probably no one’s ever seen before.”

I don’t know about you, but I never tire of hearing this story about how big, strong military dudes — uncontrollably weeping copious tears — have been coming up to Donny for a hundred and fifty years, and saying ‘sir! sir! we need levels of security. levels of security like no one’s ever seen before — possibly the greatest levels of security of all time, sir!’

no, we do not need a vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ — and we sure as hell don’t need some fugly abomination that’s bigger than the existing White House.

drone-proof whatever-the-fuck and bulletproof glass aren’t going to stop any determined rando with a gun from trying to enter the building.

but you know what will stop that shit? sensible gun control legislation, that’s what.

maybe at long last it’s time to stop making it so easy for anyone who wants to to become Yosemite Sam.

but that’s the elephant in the room that we’re never going to talk about. sorry, that national conversation is no longer on the table, and nothing is going to bring it back — not decades of school shootings. not repeated assassination attempts. it’s all so fucking stupid. we have the means with which to prevent shit like this from happening, and we’ve completely given up trying.

but at least Nosferatu McGoebbels got to cop a feel off his pregnant wife, so there’s that.

why is Stephen Miller using his wife as a shield? shouldn’t it be the other way around?

oh, and could the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press possibly have been more useless than they were last night?

I doubt it.

Van Jones on CNN right now:

“Bullets are physical things…and they move past you faster than you can react.”

thanks a lot, Van. you’re doing us a real solid with valuable insights like that.

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last night’s clown show pushed yesterday’s much more important news right off the front page.

Moron Number One and Moron Number Two — Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner — were all set to jet to Pakistan and spend the weekend negotiating a peace deal with Iran, when Donny phoned them up and told them the trip was off.

why? because negotiating — and I shit you not, Donny actually said this — is ‘too much work.’

I just cancelled the trip of my representatives going to Islamabad, Pakistan, to meet with the Iranians. Too much time wasted on traveling, too much work! Besides which, there is tremendous infighting and confusion within their “leadership.” Nobody knows who is in charge, including them. Also, we have all the cards, they have none! If they want to talk, all they have to do is call!!! President DONALD J. TRUMP

sorry, world — there can’t be peace in the Middle East, because the laziest asshole on the planet had decided that it’s ‘too much work’ to even try.

how can Donny claim he doesn’t know who’s in charge in Iran? figure it the fuck out, dipshit. that’s your job. it’s what you were elected to do. stop whining about how hard it is.

you know, Obama’s team spent two years negotiating his nuclear agreement with Iran — the agreement that Donny ripped to shreds because he was jealous of a black man’s accomplishments.

The Iran nuclear deal of 2015 – formally known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, or JCPOA – was reached after more than two years of intense, marathon negotiations largely between the United States and Iran, though other signatories to the deal were all the permanent members of the U.N. Security Council, plus Germany.

the Shitwit Brigade — Witkoff, Kushner and Couchfuck McGee — have so far spent a grand total of ONE DAY negotiating with Iran, after which they gave up and went home.

one day.

that’s what happens when you sent complete amateurs to do the job of skilled diplomats. they show up all full of unearned bluster and bravado, and then they find out that oh, fuck me — this shit requires actual experience.

real diplomats spend their entire lives learning their craft — but just try explaining that to Witkoff and Kushner. they don’t want to hear it. it’s too much work.

governmenting is hard work. diplomatting is hard work. presidenting is hard work. all that shit requires an unbelievable amount of effort — but nobody in the Donnyverse wants to put in the time. it’s too much work.

oh, boo fucking hoo.

and how delusional is Donny, to claim he holds ‘all the cards’? if that were anywhere near true, the Strait of Hormuz would already be open — and Iran would be begging the US to cut a deal. none of that shit is happening. in fact, Iran is laughing at Donny right now — and he’s too high on his own supply to realize it.

oh, to have the supreme and serene self-confidence of a mediocre imbecile like Donny. it must be nice.

you know, every morning when I sit down to write these things, I’m racked with self-doubt. what if my premise is wrong? what if I can’t make a persuasive point? what if I fuck up my facts? what if I’m not funny?

but not Donny. he just blunders his way through life, and then congratulates himself for being amazing. he shits the bed from dawn til dusk — and then demands praise for all the awesome chocolate pudding he’s created.

everything is unbelievably stupid right now, so let me at least leave you with this.

courtesy of Threads user ‘ginger.in.kc,’ here’s some Secret Service action from last night’s Correspondents Dinner, set to the Benny Hill theme.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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

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monday: really? still?

it’s the start of a new week. please tell me that the dumbest fucking imbeciles in America have moved on from their infantile obsession with New York’s Islamo-communo-marxo-anarcho-fascist Mayor Mamdani having hugged a sports-ball mascot.

please tell me that Fox News’ own Plankhead of the Airwaves™ isn’t wasting precious airtime on—

oh, dear.

“and by the way, the New York Mets are on an eleven-game losing streak, including — oh, right after the mayor met and hugged the team mascot, Mr. Met, at Citi Field, on April 9th, a phenomenon people are calling the Mamdani Curse.”

seriously, Sean? is there nothing else going on in the world right now, that we need to stretch this nothingburger of a story into a second week? because I seem to recall something about a don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran that Dear Leader’s clownfucked us into. how about reporting honestly on that?

oh great, look what other useless pantload has stepped into the breech.

really? Rudy ‘Broke, Drunk and Stupid’ Giuliani? what is this vodka-soaked buffoon going to do, hold an exorcism at Four Seasons Total Baseballing?

hey, maybe Preznit Fuckwit wants to get involved. he loves to hog the spotlight.

oh dear lord. never mind.

Mayor Mamdani, can you step in here a moment and give these diaper-babies the reaction they deserve?

hey, maybe the Mets lost eleven games in a row because they’re the Mets and they fucking suck.

tuesday: don’t bogart that joint, Beelzebub

this week, Donny and his Sewer Clowns actually stumbled into doing a good thing. they moved to reclassify marijuana as a less-dangerous drug.

I know, right? I’m as shocked as you are. I guess that’s what you do when your approval ratings are circling the drain — you cast about in desperation for any move that might make you slightly more popular.

naturally, this talk of decriminalizing dope caused MAGA’s Christofascist Evangelical Wing to shit their breeches. over to you, Tony Perkins.

“we talk about the nature of drugs, and the Bible speaks to this issue. and it is opening up our children and of course others to demonic activity.”

I’ll bet you didn’t know that weed is in the Bible, but it’s true — most famously in Potheads 4:20, the verse that starts ‘and Jesus did mightily spark up a fat one…’

but please, kids, don’t smoke pot — because everyone knows that getting ripped to the tits in your dorm room and going ‘hey man, did you ever really look at the back of your hand?’ is the most pernicious form of demonic activity of all.

and don’t even get me started on these tools of Satan.

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wednesday: break out your magnifying class

this week, the NCAA Division 1 champion Georgia Women’s Tennis team visited the White House. here’s the official photo the WH press office put up on Elon’s Nazi Bar and Child Porn Emporium.

wait, I don’t see any women’s tennis team. do you? all I see are a bunch of dudes who look really proud of themselves for no earned reason — oh wait, here they are, shoved all the way to the back of the room, behind some demented grinning jackass.

what the fuck? is this really the level of contempt the Donnyverse has for women, that they stick the actual champions into the background, like they’re some kind of afterthought?

spoiler alert: yes it is — because everyone in the Donnysphere fucking sucks.

imagine being at the top of your game, winning a tournament, and getting invited to the White House — and then you end up being treated like shit.

ugh. fuck these fucking misogynist fucks. let’s focus instead on what Jesus so wisely counseled us in his Sermon on the Mount: ‘blessed are the meme creators, for they shall win the internet.’

folks, I give you the winners:

thursday: you keep using that word

let’s listen in as Tennessee Rep Andy Ogles sums up everything that’s wrong with modern-day conservatism in seven concise words.

“we’re the dominant predator across all landscapes.”

I’m sorry, what? this underachieving doughy dweeb sees himself as a dominant what?

there you have it, folks. that’s why we’re now living in the shittiest possible timeline — because Dominant Andy and MAGA ilk refuse to accept that we all are members of a community who need to help each other to survive. they see every interaction as a confrontation to be won or lost.

oh, and ‘predator’? are you sure that’s the thing you want to brag about being, in the current climate? because here are a couple of prime predators for you, Andy.

is it any wonder that this was Mister Dominant Predator’s Christmas card a few years ago?

pro tip for bloodthirsty MAGA types: if you want to fantasize about being some alpha dipshit, go for it. just don’t force your children to participate — because that’s some fucking predatory behavior right there.

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friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™

some fucking idiot’s Friday started just about as early as possible — at 12:18 in the morning, when he unleashed a barrage of not-tweets that went on for two and a half hours.

holy fucking shit.

look — here’s possibly the most crazypants of all the fucking idiot’s early-morning posts.

what the fuck does the Southern Poverty Law Center have to do with the 2020 election? I thought it was Joe Biden’s autopen that rigged all that shit. are we just playing Pin The Tail On The Random Grievance now? but that’s what was on the fucking idiot’s mind at 1:13 in the morning. he really needs to lay off the adderall.

the fucking idiot had no official events on his Friday schedule, and his handlers kept him far away from the press — but since no one thought to hide his phone, the fucking idiot kept right on posting, right on through the day.

oh look, here’s some prime racism, directed at Candace Owens.

oh, how charming. now here’s some more racism, this time directed at Hakeem Jeffries.

‘Hakeem, a fine American name.’

oh, fuck all the way off, you bigoted fucking fuck.

finally, when it was time for the fucking idiot to fly off for his weekend playdate in Florida, his handlers made sure he couldn’t interact with the press.

and, because they were being kept far away from the fucking idiot, not one reporter had the opportunity to stand up to ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

how fucking idiotic is that?

saturday: ?

hey, it’s still morning as I sit here writing this — but give it time, I guarantee you that some dipshit wingnut is going to do something stupid before the day is over. you can set your watch to it.

do you have a nomination for This Week in Stupid? email me at jefftiedrich@gmail.com. thanks!

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

I’m so tired of being told that Preznit Fuckwit — a quadrice-indicted twice-impeached once-convicted popular-vote-losing adderall-huffing dead-pedo-bestie-schmoozing East-Wing-destroying insurrection-leading ear-diapering testimony-ducking judge-threatening lawyer-ignoring debate-avoiding witness-tampering disabled-veteran-dishonoring inheritance-squandering rube-fleecing clown-makeup-smearing language-mangling sneaker-hawking serial-sexual-predating draft-dodging casino-bankrupting butler-bullying daughter-perving hush-money-paying real-estate-scamming bone-spur-faking ketchup-hurling justice-obstructing classified-war-plan-thieving golf-cheating stock-manipulating weather-map-defacing war-criminal-pardoning horse-paste-promoting paper-towel-flinging race-baiting tax-evading evidence-destroying charity-defrauding money-laundering diaper-filling 34-count 79-year-old fluorescent-tangerine narcoleptic fart factory — is some kind of second coming of Jesus.

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check out Troy Nehls, the doughy pantload who the voters of Texas keep sending back to Congress.

“I believe that Donald Trump is better than sliced bread. I think he’s— he’s almost the second coming.”

nice catch there, Troy, sticking that ‘almost’ in there. we wouldn’t want any ethereal lightning bolts hurled down from above, aimed squarely at our ass, would we?

I’ve got a news flash for Troy, and all these other Republican fucksticks who never stop yammering about how Dear Leader walks on water: Donny is not the messiah. he’s a very naughty boy. now go away.

let’s do a bit of a fact check, because I’m pretty sure the only thing Donny is the ‘second coming’ of is an anal cyst. here are some highlights from the dog-and-pony show Donny held in the Oval Bordello yesterday.

tell me, would a true messiah never shut his big fat yap about crowd size?

“that’s where Martin Luther King gave his— great speech. and he had a million people, and— I had the same exact crowd, maybe a little bit more, but they said I had twenty-five thousand people on July 4th. I have pictures of Martin Luther King’s crowd, my crowd, exact same— everything. but it was seventy years difference. the exact same crowd, but— I actually had more people, but that’s okay. they gave him— they gave him a million people, they said a million people but I had twenty-five thousand people, so, but— these are the things that you get with the— we had on July 4th uhhhh, a few years ago. first term.”

I’m no Biblical scholar, but I’m pretty sure that Jesus never bragged about the crowd size for the Sermon on the Mount — and let’s not forget, the attendance for that sucker was ginormous. the Sermon crowd was so huge that people in the back couldn’t even properly make out what he was saying.

a real messiah would be humble about that shit, and not wave photos at every opportunity. ‘see this crowd? Pontius Pilate’s autopen wishes he could get that many people.’

Donny sure is jealous of the accomplishments of black men, isn’t he? how small and petty is he, that he can’t even mention King’s speech without insisting that his own crowd was just as big — no, wait, it was bigger! — and that he never got proper recognition for it. shut the fuck up, you tiny, insecure gnat.

how hilarious is it that back in the 1970s, Donny and his tyrant Klansman father got fined by the federal government for refusing to rent any of their apartments to black people — and now, black people like Barack Obama and Martin Luther King Jr live rent-free in Donny’s head?

now I ask you, would a true messiah fall asleep at 3:30 in the afternoon, filling the Oval Bordello with the pungent aroma of ass music?

look at this narcoleptic old coot. he can’t hack it.

(on edit: I have learned that the image I originally used in my post was a photoshop fake. I have now replaced it with the unaltered version.)

what in the actual fuck is going on here? Donny is out like a fucking light — and it looks like he’s about to slide off his chair and disappear under the Resolute Desk. won’t anybody help this frail old man? won’t someone get Dear Leader his pudding cup and lead him to bed?

this, by the way, is why Donny’s handlers kept him hidden from the press all week — he’s crashing out, hard. he can no longer handle the rigors of the presidency.

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a real King of Kings wouldn’t be pulling that ‘I’m such a sleepy boy’ crap in the middle of the day — not when there are multitudes to be fed. a true messiah would be on that shit.

consider this: the math involved in figuring out how to divvy up one fish and one loaf into— into— hey, how many is ‘a multitude,’ anyway? look, my point is that a real messiah wouldn’t fail basic fourth-grade arithmetic.

the Apostle Brainworms: “[Elizabeth Warren] was ridiculing President Trump for his math. she was saying it’s mathematically impossible to have a drug drop by 600% in cost. I said ‘well, if the drug was $100 and it raises the price to $600, that would be a 600% rise. well, if it drops from $600 to $100, that’s a 600% savings.’”

Donny: “right.”

imagine being this proud of being this ass-clownishly stupid. that’s not the way calculating percentages works, yet Donny and his disciples are doubling down on their dumbfuckery.

an actual messiah wouldn’t need community notes.

a true Light of the World would put down the lamb, pick up a calculator, crunch the numbers and go ‘huh, I guess you’re right.’

a real messiah learns.

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I should point out once again that I’m no Biblical scholar — but I’m pretty sure that Jesus never got pissy with a scribe from the Nazareth News Network.

reporter: “what do you say to the American people who question how much longer this will take? obviously you know they’re having higher gas prices.”

Donny: “you’re such a disgrace. did you hear what I just said? how many years was Vietnam?”

oh, now that’s a winning argument, for sure. go right ahead and keep comparing the debacle in Iran to the clusterfuck in Vietnam. I’m sure that’s a pairing that the American people really want to have in their minds right now, as everything goes to shit.

a messiah wouldn’t call someone ‘a disgrace’ just for asking a question. a real Fisher of Men would give a wink and a thumb’s up while convivially winning all doubters over to his side.

but wait — there’s more.

reporter: “does that mean Americans should anticipate spending more on gasoline for the foreseeable future?”

Donny: “for a little while. you know what they get for that? Iran without a nuclear weapon that’s going to try and blow up one of our cities or blow up the entire Middle East. the stock market is at an all time high.”

reporter: “but that doesn't drive prices down.”

Donny: “let me finish, wise guy.”

there’s nothing in the Biblical record about the Prince of Peace being a thin-skinned piss-baby — and I’m pretty sure that no one had to hold a What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™ for the ancient scribes of the Lamb of God Press Pool.

so let’s recap.

Jesus: humble as fuck.
Dear Leader: insecure braggart.

Jesus: alert and on the job.
Dear Leader: narcoleptic old fart factory.

Jesus: generous and giving.
Dear Leader: can’t math his way out of a paper bag.

Jesus: patient and kind.
Dear Leader: crabby and short-tempered.

so, it looks like my original premise stands. Preznit Fuckwit is not the messiah. he’s a very naughty boy.

your honor, I rest my case.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

do you live in a shithole country?

here’s one dead giveaway: are you ruled by a Mad King who craps out blatant dumbfuckery on a daily basis, after which his courtiers have to work overtime to polish whatever smelly turd just fell out of his stupid mouth?

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the first item on today’s agenda needs to come with its own trigger warning, because it’s so fucking idiotic that you might end up dumber just from having encountered it.

“only President Trump could saves the lives of these eight beautiful Iranian women.”

what the fuck is Karoline Lie-vitt blithering about?

never before in the entire history of the multiverse has the question ‘are these eight beautiful Iranian women in the room with us right now’ been a more appropriate thing to ask — because in fact, these eight women have never been in the room with anyone, ever. they don’t exist.

they’re the figment of the imagination of some janky plagiarism bot, and Donny swallowed it — hook, line and sinker — like the swamp-brained nincompoop he is.

“To the Iranian leaders, who will soon be in negotiations with my representatives: I would greatly appreciate the release of these women. I am sure that they will respect the fact that you did so. Please do them no harm! Would be a great start to our negotiations!!! Thank you for your attention to this matter. President DONALD J. TRUMP”

this is so shittacularly stupid, it hurts my head to even type this out.

some complete rando on the internet had an AI gin up a bunch of fake images of nonexistent women he claimed were about to be executed by Iran’s regime. he then posted them to Elon’s Nazi Bar and Child Porn Emporium, where they came to the attention of our Moron-in-Chief, who decided on the spot to use them as a start to the next round of peace negotiations.

but wait — it gets stupider. the next day, out of the clear blue, Donny proudly proclaimed that he had saved the lives of these eight imaginary women.

“Very good news! I have just been informed that the eight women protestors who were going to be executed tonight in Iran will no longer be killed. Four will be released immediately, and four will be sentenced to one month in prison. I very much appreciate that Iran, and its leaders, respected my request, as President of the United States, and terminated the planned execution. Thank you for your attention to this matter! President DONALD J. TRUMP”

where is Donny getting his information from? because — and I cannot stress this enough — THESE WOMEN DON’T EXIST.

it’s so monumentally stupid that even Iran ended up mocking Donny, right to his big, dumb pumpkin face.

think about how clownfuckingly insane this is. Dear Leader was fooled by fake images he saw online, and then farted out an entire narrative wherein he successfully appealed for these bogus women’s lives to be spared.

it’s as if Donny were a child playing with Barbie dolls, inventing stories for them.

‘you get released immediately — but you’ve been a bad girl, and you have to spend a month in jail.’

imagine that Joe Biden’s autopen had done anything like this when he was in office. the press would have had a fucking field day. the New York Times would have run seven hundred overheated editorials about Joe needed to resign immediately, for the good of the country.

but because we live in the shittiest possible timeline, the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press took Donny’s fever-swamp hallucination as fact, and printed it verbatim.

oh, come on. why do we even have a media, if not one of them are going to their jobs?

pro tip for the worthless scribs: every time you start a story with ‘Donny says,’ you’re just enabling and normalizing his dementia-fueled delusions.

finally, to cap it all off, Karoline Leavitt showed up on Fox News to praise Dear Leader for being the Glorious Liberator Of Eight Computer-Generated Women Who Probably Each Have Six Fingers.

welcome to the fucked-up version of America we find ourselves living in, in the Year of Our Lord 2026. we have a cognitively-impaired imbecile president who says stupid shit twenty-four-seven, while grown adults pretend it’s the most perfectly normal thing in the world. nothing to see here, move along.

that’s because shithole countries don’t become shithole countries all by themselves. they need people like Karoline Leavitt — aided and abetted by the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press — to help them come to fruition.

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now, here’s an even dumbfuckier tale of shithole dumbfuckery.

Elizabeth Warren: “[Donny] claims that TrumpRX has reduced prices by as much as 600%”

Bobby Brainworms Jr: “President Trump has a different way of calculating— there are two ways of calculating percentages. if you have a $600 drug and you reduce it to $10, that’s a 600% reduction.”

pro tip: claiming you can reduce the price of something by 600% isn’t ‘having a different way of calculating’ — it’s being a fucking moron. you can’t reduce the price of anything by more than 100%.

you know this, and I know this. anyone with half a brain know this — but because Dear Leader said it, and Elizabeth Warren called him out for it, Bobby Brainworms has no choice but to gather up the few remaining shreds of his self respect, drag them out back to the gravel pit, whisper a few pathetic words of comfort, and shoot them straight in the face.

once again, Donny utters something moronic, and his flunkies scramble to explain that no, Donny’s actually some kind of super-genius, and we’re the morons who don’t understand that there are actually two kinds of math — your stupid kind, and the Emperor’s new kind.

now, because I’m a responsible journalist and everything, I picked up my phone and fired up its calculator app.

it was a wild experience. I actually saw numbers dancing in front of my head, just like in the gif.

I can now break the news that if you lower the price of something from $600 to $10, that’s a reduction of 98.3%.

you’re welcome, America.

now here’s are some numbers I’d like to see Donny explain his way out of. tell me, is a 33% approval rating bad?

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here’s yet another way you can tell you live in a shithole country: it’s when your Acting Secretary of the Navy pretty much has his job because Dear Leader is a child who giggled over his name.

yesterday, John Phelan got fired as Navy Secretary, and his second in command took over. his name? Hung Cao.

the first thing you need to know is that our overgrown toddler president thinks the name ‘Hung Cao’ is super fucking hilarious.

“It’s really an honor to be with you,” Trump said with Cao to his right. “Thank you. And we’re gonna be with this man. This is a great gentleman. I love his name — Hung Cao. I love that name. And that name alone should get you elected, right?”

spoiler alert: Hung Cao’s name didn’t get him elected in 2024, because Hung Cao is a fucking crackpot who ran for Senate because, quite frankly, somebody needed to do something about all these witches.

“there’s a place in Monterey, California called Lovers Point. the original name was Lovers of Christ Point. but now they took out the Christ, it’s become Lovers Point — really, Monterey is a really dark place now, a lot of witchcraft and the wiccan community has really taken over there, and we can’t let that happen in Virginia.”

Hung Cao seems sane, doesn’t he?

and because Donny has a knack for always being able to find the worst person possible for each job, he plucked Wytchfinder Cao from the shitpile of failure and made him his Undersecretary of the Navy.

for once in his entire stupid life, Donny didn’t hire a flunkie because he looked good on Fox News. no, he this time picked the dude whose name makes him think of a big-dick bovine.

and now, Cao — the scourge of witches from Monterey to Virginia — is our Acting Secretary of the Navy.

because shitty timelines don’t become shitty timelines all by themselves.

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and now, your heroes of the day: the Ukrainian officials who proposed renaming part of the Donbas region to ‘Donnyland,’ in order to curry favor with America’s Narcissist-in-Chief.

I shit you not, this is not a joke. they even drew up a map and everything.

it’s so fucking eternally embarrassing. the entire world has figured out that Dear Leader is so childishly vain that he can be won over by naming something in his honor, or by handing him some completely bogus ‘prize.’

thank you, Ukraine, for taking this trend to its logical — and hilarious — conclusion.

by the way, Ukraine owes me royalties — because I first coined ‘Donnyland’ a over year ago, in a ‘this week in stupid’ post from Feb 15, 2025.

but you know what? fuck it, indeed. Ukraine, you can have ‘Donnyland’ for free — just because I like the cut of your jib.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

flailing flailboy Preznit Fuckwit continues to flail as he searches for a magic bullet with which to end his unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-clusterfuck-of-a-war on Iran.

weak, stupid and cognitively impaired, Donny changes his strategy at least as often as he changes his diaper — but not even one of his fuckbrained schemes has come even close to working.

and now he’s been reduced to just making shit up as he goes along, throwing every goddamned thing at the wall, hoping against hope that something finally sticks.

spoiler alert: nothing is sticking — and Iran is eating Donny’s lunch.

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here’s Donny, phoning into Joe Kernan’s CNBC show yesterday morning.

Joe Kernan: “you’re saying you need at least the prospect for a signed deal today or tomorrow or else you would resume bombing Iran.”

Donny: “well, I expect to be bombing. we’re ready to go. the military is raring to go.”

oh great, here we go again. Donny’s got a shiny new ultimatum that he can’t wait to take for a spin around the block: ‘sign a peace deal today or the bombs will start to fall.’

he’s fucking ‘raring to go’ — and so is the military. Donny and his piss-drunk Secretary of Death just can’t wait to serve up piping-hot war crimes, fresh from the oven.

and, once again, Donny’s turned foreign policy into a game show. ‘will there be bombing? turn in tonight and find out!’

‘spectacle over competence’ is no way to run a country, yet here we are, trapped in Donnyland — because all Donny understands is carnival barking, and calling maximum attention to himself. he doesn’t know how to just quietly go about his business and get shit done.

even Iran is getting tired of Donny’s sideshow act.

“Trump, by imposing a siege and violating the ceasefire, seeks to turn this negotiating table— in his own imagination— into a table of surrender or to justify renewed warmongering. We do not accept negotiations under the shadow of threats, and in the past two weeks, we have prepared to reveal new cards on the battlefield.”

that was Speaker of Iran’s Parliament, Mohammad Ghalibaf. he doesn’t sound very scared, does he? I mean, he’s basically telling Donny to eat an entire bag of dicks, and put his impotent threats where the sun don’t shine.

wow, I’ll bet Ghalibaf’s tweet set Donny right off. I’ll bet the thin-skinned bastard shit a massive brick, right then and there. I’ll bet he phoned up Plastered Pete and told him to warm up those bombers. I’ll bet he—

wait, what? he taco’d?

hang on, Donny’s extended the ceasefire — for an unspecified amount of time — because reasons?

bear in mind that Iran didn’t ask for an extension to the ceasefire. they seemed fine with going back to a state of actual war. but Donny just up and gave them a extension, all wrapped up with a pretty bow.

why?

yeah, well, as we like to say around here, ‘those markets aren’t going to manipulate themselves.’

at this point, Iran is pretty much just farting in Donny’s general direction.

and Donny has no choice but to take it.

so, Iran refuses to negotiate, the Strait of Epstein™ is still closed down, and Donny’s supposed blockade of Iran’s ports doesn’t seem all that blockade-y.

“Iran Tankers Go Dark to Sail Past US Blockade Laden With Oil...At least two fully laden Iranian tankers have sailed out of the Persian Gulf and past a US blockade this week”

now hold on there just one minute. are you telling me that Iranian oil tankers are sailing past the US blockade JUST BY TURNING OFF THEIR LIGHTS?

IT’S THAT EASY?

what kind of Three-Stooges-level bullshit is this? is Donny’s war being planned by children?

how can it be that simple to outwit the US Navy? I keep hearing how we’ve got the mightiest military in the world, and how our warfighters are ready to warfight the shit out of any war that needs to be fought.

is that not true?

because it seems to me like Iran is playing a vigorous round of ‘I’ve got your nose’ with our military — and our military is falling for it.

come on, Iran, quit booping our nose.

even the Wall Street Journal is all ‘what in the actual fuck’?

the Journal’s premise is that Iran keeps hoodwinking Donny by making the same empty promises, over and over, and that Donny keeps allowing himself to get played. and you know what? the Journal is not fucking wrong.

How many times will President Trump pay Iran for the same real estate? Twice he has announced the opening of the Strait of Hormuz, and twice he has given up U.S. leverage in exchange. Yet the strait remains closed, as Iran’s regime demands more.

this editorial, by the way, caused Dear Leader to power-load his diaper on the spot. look this hysterical multi-hundred-word tantrum that he shat out onto his crappy app.

shut the fuck up, you annoying old man. we get it: you’re amazing and no one appreciates you. fine, move on already. no one cares. here comes Walt Nauta with your pudding cup. chow down. bon appetit, mon ami.

so why are we even having a war, if we can’t achieve even one of our goals, and Iran is making us look like morons? is it just to see how many service members can die of the flu?

absolutely, let’s make flu shots in the military voluntary. that’s the ticket. let’s play Russian roulette with a potentially deadly virus, because what could possibly go wrong?

has Piss-Drunk Pete been talking to the whale-head-chainsaw enthusiast again? is this some dumbfuckery that he and Bobby Brainworms hatched after a night of hoovering blow off a toilet seat?

isn’t is amazing how every idea that Donny’s sewer clowns come up with is bad?

not once have they done anything where you nod your head and go ‘oh huh, that actually kind of makes sense.’

it’s just an infinite series of disastrous decisions, one right after another, cooked up by crackpots, clowns and charlatans.

do you think Piss-Drunk Pete has ever actually picked up a history book?

I’m guessing not, because actually knowing shit seems kind of woke.

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Kevin Warsh is Donny’s pick to undermine the Federal Reserve Board. the public got its first view of Warsh at his Senate confirmation hearings yesteday — and, frankly, Ol’ Kev seems kind of skeevy.

ELIZABETH WARREN: Did Donald Trump lose the 2020 election?

KEVIN WARSH: Uhm, we try to keep politics if I'm confirmed out of the Federal Reserve

WARREN: I'm just asking a factual question

WARSH: I believe this body certified the election

WARREN: That's not the question I'm asking

Warsh knows full well that Donny is a losing loser who lost the shit out of the 2020 election — but he also knows that he can’t come right out and admit it, because it would cause Donny to blow a gasket. so he has to prevaricate and dance his way around the question, like the weasely little weasel he is.

this should really be the litmus test for any of Donny’s nominees: did he lose the 2020 election? it’s a simple question, dumb-asses. it’s not fucking rocket science.

wait, Liz Warren isn’t finished using Kevin Warsh as a chew toy — because she’d also like to know if Kev has his own dead pedo bestie problem.

WARREN: That's not my question. Are you refusing to tell us if you have investments in vehicles set up by Jeffrey Epstein?

KEVIN WARSH: Those assets will be sold if I'm confirmed

wow, Warsh is really shit at giving straight answers to simple questions, isn’t he?

Kev won’t tell you if he has any investments tied to Jeffrey Epstein, but he does pinky-swear on a whole stack of bibles to sell those investments, but not until after he’s confirmed.

oh, okay. thanks, Kev. you’re doing the world a huge favor. you’re a peach. you’re a prince among men.

fuck this guy. let’s do a quick palate cleanse. Flippy McCrushnuts, can you come in here a minute?

thanks, bro. now let’s move on to our heroes of the day: the voters of Virginia, who passed a measure redistricting the living fuck out of their state, making ten of its eleven districts Democratic.

remember, Republicans started this shit when they chose out of the clear blue to gerrymander the entire state of Texas, to rig it to be even more heavily Republican than it already was.

and now that states like California and Virginia are giving Republicans a taste of their own medicine, all they can do is whine like the piss-babies they are.

boo fucking hoo.

oh, and the Washington Post can go fuck itself sideways — because apparently, when Republicans do a gerrymander, it’s no big deal.

but when Democrat’s do it, it’s so unfair.

eat binkie, WaPo.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

tell me, is it a bad thing when the president of the United States is such a fuckbrained sack of toxic shit that he makes every situation worse just by existing?

yesterday we learned that Dear Leader was so erratic and out of control that he had to be banished from the room where complex military rescue operations were being planned.

now we’re finding out that peace negotiations with Iran were actually going well at one point — and then Donny blew it all sky-high because he couldn’t keep his tiny little doll-sized fingers off his stupid phone.

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As the weekend approached, the US and Iran appeared to be closing in on a deal to end the seven-week war.

Then President Donald Trump did exactly what his staffers have repeatedly said they wouldn’t do: He seemed to try negotiating via the press, posting about ongoing talks on social media and speaking to several reporters by phone Friday morning.

as unlikely as it may seem, somehow the Shitwit Brigade of Witkoff, Kushner and Couchfuck McGee were actually making headway — but then Preznit Fuckwit started posting once again about how he was going to bomb the shit out of Iran if they didn’t dance to his tune, at which point the Iranian negotiating team was all ‘why the fuck are we even talking to you?’

Some Trump officials privately acknowledged to CNN that the president’s public commentary has been detrimental to talks, noting the sensitivity of the negotiations and the Iranians’ deep mistrust of the US.

oh gee, d’ya think? is it any wonder that Iran doesn’t trust the guy who posts that things are going well, and then thirty seconds later posts that he’s going ‘end a civilization’?

why can’t someone hide Donny’s phone, just for 24 hours — or change the White House wifi password — and let the Shitwit Brigade conduct their negotiations in relative peace and quiet? we might actually get an end to this don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war, and open the Strait of Epstein™ back up.

imagine being a member of the Shitwit Brigade, trying to end a don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war — and then your dumbfuck boss goes and ruins everything because he has no ability to keep his stupid mouth closed.

Donny always makes things worse for himself — always. he’s an incompetent stumblefuck who can’t get out of his own accursed way. it’s how he turned the four hundred million dollars he inherited from his tyrant Klansman father into a one point two billion dollar loss. it’s why every single one of his businesses failed. and it’s why we’re now bogged down in a don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran.

all of this would be hilarious if it were happening in some small, powerless third world banana republic, where some tinpot’s disastrous decisions would have no effect beyond its own borders — but this is the United Goddamned States of America. everything we do affects the whole planet.

all it took were the reckless actions of one moron to destabilize the entire world’s economy. how is that even allowed to be a thing?

‘what if the leader of a country were a fucking moron?’ is a great premise when it’s a movie like Duck Soup.

not so much, however, when you have a real-life Donald J. Firefly in command of a nuclear arsenal.

none of this had to happen.

never forget that our current Iranian quagmire was an unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal war of choice that was undertaken by a deteriorating, easily-manipulated mad king wanna-be who was goaded into attacking Iran by both his despot bestie Netanyahu and his piss-drunk Christofascist Secretary of Death, who imagines himself to be waging some fucked-up Jesus-endorsed battle for Armageddon.

Donny is losing this war — badly. yet he refuses to admit it. he still thinks he can shitpost his way to victory.

“I’m winning a War, BY A LOT, things are going very well.”

can I have some of what Donny’s smoking? because he sounds high as fuck.

if only a fraction of the wild claims Donny makes in this tweet were true, the war would already by over, our service members would be on their way home, and oil tankers would be zipping up and down the Strait of Epstein™ like nobody’s business.

spoiler alert: none of that shit is happening. we remain tar-pitted in a five-alarm clusterfuck.

and what is Donny saying here, about Iran’s government being ‘confused’ because they’re reading in the Washington Post about how they’re winning? really, is that actually what Donny imagines is going on? that’s fucking nuts.

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Donny is in way over his head, overmatched, and totally unaware of just how horribly everything is going. he somehow remains serenely convinced that he’s the smartest guy in the room, and we’re ones who are the morons.

oh, and if something does go wrong, it’s always somebody else’s fault.

seriously.

WHAT IS THE FUCK THIS CRAZYPANTS GIBBERISH?

It’s three hundred and twenty-eight words long, and not one of them makes a single lick of sense.

this is what pure, unadulterated bugfuck insanity looks like. the president of the United States is off his rocker, and out wandering where the buses don’t run — and, somehow, he’s not being chased by the men with the white coats and the butterfly nets. it’s maddening that this is allowed to go on.

someone please explain to me what the Democrats are doing to ‘hurt the very strong position we are in’?

how is any of what Donny has inflicted on the world the Democrats’ fault? has Chuck Schumer been writing strongly-worded letters to Iran?

cut that shit out, Chuck.

this is why Iran’s negotiators won’t even bother to meet with the Shitwit Brigade any more — because Uncle President Chucklefuck is nuts, and won’t shut the fuck up.

oh, those are going to be some fun talks, with half the seats at the negotiating table empty. hello? hello? is anyone here?

it’s us! Witkoff and Kushner!

oh wait, Donny has one more thing he wants to get off his chest.

“Israel never talked me into the war with Iran.”

yeah, right. the thing you always have to keep in mind with Donny is that every denial is an admission.

Bibi Netanyahu absolutely did goad Donny into his I-thought-we-weren’t-supposed-to-call-it-a-war on Iran. Bibi’s been trying to drag the US into an unwinnable Iranian quagmire for literal decades.

don’t take my word for it. listen to former Secretary of State John Kerry.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had proposed a war with Iran to previous US presidents, all of whom declined, said former secretary of state John Kerry in an interview with MS NOW on Friday.

Netanyahu tried in turn to sell George W. Bush, Barack HUSSEIN Obama, and Joe AUTOPEN Biden on the idea that bombing the shit out of Iran would be a super-fun thing to do. each one of them had the good sense to cordially invite Bibi to go fuck himself.

only Mad King Donny was moronic enough to take Bibi’s bait — and now look where we are: mired in a clusterfuck that every other president could see coming a mile away.

lucky us.

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by the way, while I’ve been writing this post, Donny’s been doing a live-via-phone interview with CNBC’s Joe Kernan.

it’s a fucking shit-show. the whole thing is just wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling batcrap nuttiness. let me give you just one 45-second taste of it.

“I would’ve won Vietnam very quickly if I were president. I would have won Iraq in the same amount of time. look at Venezuela. I took it over in 45 minutes.”

is there is Four Season Total Delusion Prize we can give this guy?

I’m really sorry that Donny’s imaginary bone spurs kept him out of the Vietnam War, because I’d really would have loved to have seen him win it ‘very quickly.’” I’m betting he could have Rambo’d the shit out of the Vietcong, and been home in like a couple of hours.

oh my god, what a stupid, stupid timeline we live in.

this has been one of those days where you really wish that you could bring in Monty Python’s big-ass foot to just crush the shit out of everything.

so let’s do exactly that.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

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?’

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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.’

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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.

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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.

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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.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

so, who’s the most shitfaced member of the Donnyverse?

you could be forgiven for assuming it’s Piss-Drunk Pete Kegstand, the champagne-guzzling dunk-tank clown who grew up to be Donny’s Secretary of Death. after all, ‘piss-drunk’ is right there in his name.

and sure, in the running would be US Attorney Boxwine, famous for regularly showing up for her on-air Fox News gig as a word-slurring, four-sheets-to-the-wind mess.

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well move over, you two amateurs. all that shit pales in comparison to the inebriated antics of Krazee-Eyes Kash Patel, who, according to reporting by The Atlantic, is so prone to being ahem allegedly passed-out soused in his office that on at least one occasion, his own staffers had to employ a fucking battering ram just to gain access to do a wellness check.

On multiple occasions in the past year, members of his security detail had difficulty waking Patel because he was seemingly intoxicated, according to information supplied to Justice Department and White House officials. A request for “breaching equipment”—normally used by SWAT and hostage-rescue teams to quickly gain entry into buildings—was made last year because Patel had been unreachable behind locked doors, according to multiple people familiar with the request.

just another perfectly normal day in Donnyland, full of perfectly normal people doing perfectly normal things.

‘I can’t find the FBI director.’ ‘oh well, time to smash his door down again.’

but that’s Krazee-Eyes for you. unqualified, incompetent, and in way over his head — to the point where he has to ahem allegedly self-medicate to the point of incapacity, just to make it through each day.

Several officials told me that Patel’s drinking has been a recurring source of concern across the government.

Early in his tenure, meetings and briefings had to be rescheduled for later in the day as a result of his alcohol-fueled nights, six current and former officials and others familiar with Patel’s schedule told me.

tell me, is that a bad thing, when the nation’s chief law enforcement agent is so fucking ahem allegedly drunk that the business of his department has to go on around him, while he sleeps one off?

just another DUI hire by Preznit Fuckwit, who is currently batting a thousand in his ability to pick the worst possible person for each job in his administration.

Donny’s cabinet is just an endless procession of freaks and weirdos. the science-denier who kidnapped a dead bear and stuffed it in the trunk of his car. the reality show has-been in charge of air travel safety. the Russian asset currently tasked with keeping our secrets secret. on and on it goes, where it stops, no one knows.

this is the stuff of third-world tinpot banana republics, where underlings are chosen for loyalty, not competence. competence is for losers, bro. that’s not how Mad Kings roll.

and now — speaking of losers — heading the FBI, a former podcast bro and literal snake oil salesman. here’s some fun reporting by Mediaite in 2024.

Kash Patel is hawking pills that claim to reverse the effects of the Covid vaccines.

In a Truth Social post over the weekend, Patel linked to a website owned by a company called “Warrior Essentials.”

is it any wonder that this goniff schnook absolutely fucking sucks at his job?

there was nothing on Kash Patel’s resume that would lead any sane person to conclude he’d be the right man to oversee the operations of a complex, thirty-eight-thousand person governmental department.

even that asshole Bill Barr threw a shit-fit when Donny wanted to make Kash the FBI’s deputy director during his first reign.

“I told Mark Meadows it would happen ‘over my dead body’ ... Patel had virtually no experience that would qualify him to serve at the highest level of the world’s preeminent law enforcement agency.”

this time around, however, there was no one to tell Donny ‘no’ when he wanted to put an ahem alleged blackout-drunk goofus in charge of the FBI — and so that’s exactly who he got.

but please — don’t put in the newspaper that Kash got mad at The Atlantic’s reporting.

Kash definitely isn’t mad.

Memo to the fake news - the only time I’ll ever actually be concerned about the hit piece lies you write about me will be when you stop. Keep talking, it means I’m doing exactly what I should be doing. And no amount of BS you write will ever deter this FBI from making America safe again and taking down the criminals you love.

now hold on there a minute, Kash. if you’re so unconcerned by what the ‘fake news’ says about you, then why are you threatening to sue the Atlantic?

see you and your entire entourage of false reporting in court... But do keep at it with the fake news, actual malice standard is now what some would call a legal lay up.

oh please please please please please please please please please sue The Atlantic, Kash. that little thing called the discovery phase is going to be wild.

so, what does everyone think? should Krazee-Eyes get fired for being a dipshit dipsomaniac who totally fucking sucks at his job, or do we keep him around just to see what clownfucktastic thing he does next?

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once again, another one of Donny’s self-hyped ‘victories’ in his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran has completely unraveled — and once again, the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press are the guy from Memento, who can’t remember that Donny made the same bullshit claims last week.

everything Donny told us Friday morning about Iran agreeing to all his demands, and about the Strait of Hormuz being open forever turned out to be a fever-swamp hallucination — the product of some fucked-up melange of magical thinking, advanced dementia, and, as always, a desire to manipulate the markets.

how many times is Donny going get away with this shit? how many times are the worthless scribs going to rush whatever Donny says into print without even doing a nanosecond’s worth of fact-checking?

Donny’s blitherings never end up being true, and always fall apart within hours. you might imagine there would be a lesson for the press to learn here, wouldn’t you? like, maybe don’t run up there like a fucking idiot the next time Donny promises that this time, he’s really going to hold that football.

oh look, MS-whatever-they-call-it-NOW has committed a journalism, and put together a super-cut of every time Donny has claimed Iran is super-horny to cut a deal with him.

look at just a few of the times Donny flat-out fibbed about Iran being desperate to cut a deal.

“I think Iran looks like they want to make a deal very badly,” Trump said February 6, in the weeks leading up to the February 28 joint U.S./Israeli attacks.

“They want to make a deal,” he said March 16, weeks after the attacks. And then: “They want to make a deal very badly,” on March 23 in Palm Beach, Florida.

“They want to make a deal so badly. You have no idea how badly they want to make a deal,” he repeated on March 24 at the White House.

“They want to make a deal so badly, but they’re afraid to say it because they figure they’ll be killed by their own people,” Trump claimed on March 25.

“They are begging to make a deal — not me. They’re begging to make a deal very badly,” he insisted yet again March 26.

“They want to make a deal,” he proclaimed on March 27, followed by: “They’re begging to make a deal. They’re begging to make a deal” that same day at a new location.

“They want to make a deal. They want to make a deal more than I want to make a deal,” he claimed in the Oval Office on March 31.

“They’d like to make a deal very badly,” he repeated yet again April 13 at the White House.

Donny keeps using that word, ‘deal.’ I do not think it means what Donny thinks it means.

speaking of wars, we should check in and see how Donny’s doing with his apocalyptic battle with Pope Southside Bob from Chicago.

Harry Enten: “look at this — it is a blowout in the net popularity rating. Pope Leo XIV at plus 34. look at where Donald Trump is, at minus 12. it’s not even close. it’s a nearly 50-point blowout amongst the American public at large. Pope Leo XIV absolutely crushing President Trump when it comes to how popular they are as of last month. and I will note that Pope Leo was the most popular person tested by ABC News. I believe the president is making a humongous mistake going after the most popular guy in America.”

I mean, this really a no-brainer. it’s a choice between the guy who dropped bombs on a building full of schoolgirls, and the guy who says ‘maybe don’t drop bombs on schoolgirls, you blood-spattered fuck.’

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meanwhile, Donny’s laser-focused on what’s important in life: not being Joe Biden.

Donny: [scrawls his fucked-up, klan-hood signature] “that’s a good one. oh, I wanted this one. you think Biden can do that? he can’t do that.”

‘that’s a good one’? my god, this narcissistic asshole is even in love with his own signature. he hoists us that document with the pride of a toddler who made it all the way to the potty without doing a boom-boom in his pants — which, by the way, is an accomplishment Preznit Fuckwit can’t manage.

Donny, you tiny and damaged homunculus, give it a fucking rest already. nobody in the world gives one shit about your infantile obsession with Joe Biden, aside from the sycophants and toadies who are paid to bark and clap like trained seals when the president makes a funny.

remember the Easter Egg Roll earlier this month? Donny pulled the same tired shit, blithering incoherently to a bunch of children about Joe Biden’s autopen, as if even one of those kiddies had the remotest idea what the fuck he was whining about.

this broken-inside numbskull can’t even spend half a minute talking to children without making it all about himself.

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and now, here are your heroes of the day: Barack HUSSEIN Obama and Zohran KWAME Mamdani, who spent their Saturday reading to a group of preschoolers in the Bronx.

look at these two charming charmers, charming the shit out of all of us.

child: “I know your name!”

Mamdani: “you know my name?”

child: “Mamdani!”

Obama: “what’s his first name?”

child: “Mayor Mamdani!”

isn’t nice for a change, just to see two completely normal people having a completely normal interaction with children, without making it creepy or weird, or yammering on about Joe Biden’s autopen?

man, do I miss Obama — and I look forward to Mamdani having what I hope is a long and successful career in politics.

have a great Sunday, everyone.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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

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monday: dumbest. culture. war. ever

friends, do you suffer from the heartbreak of Mamdani Derangement Syndrome? here’s one sure way to tell: it’s when you completely lose your shit over the activities of an anthropomorphized sports-ball mascot.

welcome to the sad little world of Sid Rosenberg, a New York City hate-radio talk-show dumbfuck afflicted with not just anger management issues, but also way too much free time on his hands.

Sid worked himself into a Big Mad this week when New York’s Islamo-marxo-communo-anarcho-fascist Mayor Zohran Mamdani showed up at a New York Mets game and got big hugs — not just from Mr. Met, but also Mrs. Met, both of whom are — and this cannot be stressed enough — oversized baseballs.

“Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse we found out today that Mr. Met is a raging antisemite!”

oh, come on, Sid. stop being a sexist prick and admit that Mrs. Met is also a raging antisemite. she gave The Mamdaninator a big hug, too.

oh wait — is all this misplaced rage happening now because last year, Sid got his fee-fees hurt?

“This was me at Citifield last season being IGNORED by Mr. Met! Yesterday Mr. AND Mrs. Met were hugging and kissing our Antisemite Mayor @NYCMayor! Easy to conclude that Mr. Met is an Antisemite!!!!!”

Sid, can we talk? bro, you really need to get the fuck over yourself. you’re not the center of the universe. you’re some shit-kazoo rando who shouts into a microphone on some fifth-rate radio station that no one listens to. despite being as impressed with yourself as you apparently are, in no way does your resume entitle you to a personal audience with a talking baseball.

but wait — the story has a happy ending.

“I’ll be 59 on Sunday:) For the first time ever I’m sporting a Yankee jersey as I make my way to the Bronx. The official transition from a life long Met fan to a Yankee fan is now underway. Like my friend @CGasparino once wrote ‘Go Woke, Go Broke!’ The Mamdani Mets are too WOKE for me! See ya at the Stadium soon fans!”

sucks to be you, New York Mets. you went woke and now you’re going broke. Big Mad Sid is taking his business elsewhere.

congratulations, Yankees — Sid’s your problem now.

you’re welcome.

tuesday: AI yi yi

it’s an age-old conundrum: is the media simply biased against Dear Leader, or is the media super fucking biased against Dear Leader? well, here comes Fox News yammerer Maria Bartiromo, with a uniquely twenty-first century answer to this question.

“and if you compare today, what’s going on today, to — let’s call it World War Two. right? I put in a question to ChatGPT and said, ‘if we were to look at the media back during World War Two and look at how they are reporting this current conflict, how would the media report on World War Two?’ here’s what I got from ChatGPT. ready? the media is against President Trump.”

I’m sorry, Maria did what? she posed a fucked-up question to a janky plagiarism-robot that’s deliberately programmed to flatter its user and tell them exactly what they want to hear?

what a fucking pointless exercise in digital navel-gazing that proves not one goddamned thing — but at least now your drunk uncle can buttonhole you at the next cookout and tell you how Maria Bartiromo used big-brain science to prove that the media is being mean to Grandpa President Chucklefuck. so he’s got that going for him. which is nice.

lucky you.

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wednesday: lay his what where?

when Donny tarted himself up as some kind of fucked-in-the-head Doctor Jesus, actual religious leaders were horrified — but for the MAGA Evangelical Grifter-Industrial Complex, it was just another day at the office.

MAGA pastor Shane Vaughn: “let me ask every one of you that were shocked by this picture. if you’ll look at that picture again, you’ll really look at it, you’ll see what you prayed for. yeah, those four years you were fighting for Donald Trump, you remember those days. how quickly we forget. you believe he was sent by God to lay hands on this nation. to heal our suffering nation. what you believe is in that picture — a man that God used to heal America.”

the knots these god-bothering goniffs tie themselves into to justify President Piggy’s crimes against decency are impressive. can we just get that ‘shame’ woman to come in here and do her thing for a minute?

now let’s do what Pastor Vaughn asks of us, and take another look at that image.

nope, sorry — it’s still blasphemy, and Donny’s still trash.

oh, and whether or not Donny was sent by God, ‘this nation’ is not what he’s been laying his disgusting hands on.

yup, still trash.

thursday: bring out the tiny violin brigade

there’s nothing funny about the persecution of trans people being perpetrated by the current fascist regime. the trans community just wants to be left in peace to be who they are. why can’t we just grant them that?

that said, we can all still schadenfreude the shit out of Caitlyn Jenner, who apparently assumed that she would somehow be exempted from all this fuckery.

you know the drill. now comes the part where we throw our heads back in laughter. ready?

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friday: the further adventures of Some Fucking Idiot™

some fucking idiot’s Friday started off with some allegedly good news. the fucking idiot loudly announced the re-opening of the ‘Strait of Iran,’ whatever the fuck that is

this was such a non-victory victory for the fucking idiot that even Ann Coulter saw through it.

nonetheless, the fucking idiot took the latest in an infinite series of unearned victory laps, posting about his glorious triumph thirteen times in the space of an hour.

why so many posts? the answer is simple: that stock market isn’t going to manipulate itself.

the fucking idiot even proclaimed that the Strait of Hormuz will never, ever, ever, ever close again, not in a millionty skillion pickldillion years. certainly not while the fucking idiot is president!

(hi. Jeff of the Future here, breaking into the narrative on Saturday morning to let you know that that a mere 20 hours after the fucking idiot made that boast, the Strait of Hormuz is already closed down again.)

once the fucking idiot’s posting spree had run its course, it was time for the fucking idiot to jet off to his playdate at the Turning Point convention in Phoenix.

what. the fuck. is this.

pro tip for the fucking idiot: when tallying up all the imaginary wars that you claim to have ended, you can’t include the ones that you started.

oh look, now that the fucking idiot has all that warmongering in the rear view mirror, he’s got all the time in the world to finally finish that ‘ready in two weeks’ healthcare plan he’s been working on for the last ten years.

later on, while flying back to Washington aboard Fuckface Force One, reporters got to question the fucking idiot.

here’s another pro tip: you can’t really say you’ve ‘ended a war’ if in the next breath you blither incoherently about ‘dropping more bombs on Wednesday.’

and, despite all that dumbfuckery going on right in front of their faces, not reporter stood up to ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

how fucking idiotic is that?

saturday: ?

hey, it’s still morning as I sit here writing this — but give it time, I guarantee you that some dipshit wingnut is going to do something stupid before the day is over. you can set your watch to it.

do you have a nomination for This Week in Stupid? email me at jefftiedrich@gmail.com. thanks!

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

Pope Leo is exactly what We the People needed right now: a hero.

let’s talk about meeting the moment. at a time when everything fucking sucks, and so many of our institutions have failed us — the government, the media, the universities — and at a time when Donny and his handlers have been tying to co-opt religion for their own indecent and immoral purposes, here comes Pope South-Side Bob from Chicago to say ‘not so fast, fuckfaces.’

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“Jesus told us, blessed are the peacemakers. but woe to those who manipulate religion and the very name of God for their own military, economic, or political gain, dragging that which is sacred into darkness and filth. yes, my dear sisters and brothers, you who hunger and thirst for justice, who are poor, merciful, meek, and pure of heart — you who have wept. you are the light of the world.”

fuck yeah.

‘darkness and filth’ — if there are two words that better describe the malignant toad in the Oval Bordello, I couldn’t tell you what they are. Preznit Fuckwit shits over everything we hold dear, and leaves a slimy snail-trail of stench and corruption in his wake.

and now, he and his piss-drunk Christofascist Secretary of Death are desperately trying to frame their unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran — one that was waged for no clear reason at all — as some kind of deity-endorsed holy battle for Armageddon.

but wait — into the breach comes the Pope, the hero we need at the exact moment we need him, to say ‘fuck that shit and fuck it hard. don’t you fucking dare bring God into this.’

oh, and in case you need Pope Leo’s flowery language simplified, here you go: Dear Leader is not the messiah, he’s a very naughty boy. now go away.

going to war against the Pope was just as bone-crushingly moronic as going to war against Iran. in both cases, there was never any plan B — because these overconfident shitwits always act first and think never.

in fighting Iran, there was never a thought of ‘well, what if they don’t surrender after two hours of bombing?’ — and in fighting the Pope, there was never a thought of ‘what if he tells us to go fuck ourselves?’

once again, Donny is his own worst enemy — because, as always, none of this had to happen. Donny could have simply brushed off the Pope’s criticism of his clusterfuck in Iran, said nothing about it, and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.

but Donny can’t ever simply brush off anyone who says anything mean about him. and now, because he chose to blunder in a fight with the religious leader of the world’s 1.4 billion Catholics — someone who happens to be a thousand times smarter and more articulate than he is — he’s once again shown himself to be a unhinged, grudge-fueled diaper-baby.

congratulations, dumb-ass. you’ve created a folk hero, admired even by people like myself who are in no way religious. now I’m all Team Pope, whereas two weeks ago I couldn’t have even told you his name.

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and now, because Donny is flailing in his don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war with the Pope, it’s up to surrogates and operatives like Fox News’ own Plankhead of the Airwaves to fight his battles for him.

Sean Hannity: “but right on cue, Pope Leo XIV is now seemingly more interested in spreading left-wing politics than the actual teachings of Jesus Christ… why is the pope twisting religion to specifically attack only President Trump and the US? why did he recently meet with top Obama advisor David Axelrod and the far-left governor of Illinois, J.B. Pritzker? is it because he’s a run-of-the mill Trump-hating Democrat that lacks moral clarity about radical Islam?”

do you think Plankhead realizes the message he’s promoting here is that ‘if you’re for peace, you must be a Democrat’?

has Hannity ever cracked open a Bible? for fuck’s sake, Jesus is literally referred to as the ‘Prince of Peace.’

Jesus is primarily called the “Prince of Peace” in Isaiah 9:6. This famous Old Testament prophecy describes the coming Messiah, stating: “And his name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

and let’s not forget the Sermon on the Mount. ‘blessed are the peacemakers,’ remember that? there’s no line about ‘blessed are the propaganda-spewing Fox News dipshits whose continued employment depends on slobbering over Dear Leader’s ass, no matter how fuckbrained and unpopular his policies are.’

now, I will note that some Biblical scholars insist that Jesus was actually referring to cheesemakers.

peacemakers, cheesemakers, whatever. my point still stands.

there’s also no line in the Sermon about ‘blessed are the piss-drunk warmongers whose heads are so far up their own asses that they have no idea how deranged they sound.’

“our press are just like these Pharisees. your politically motivated animus for President Trump nearly completely blinds you from the brilliance of our American warriors.”

whoa, slow down there, drunkie. the press are like what?

who even talks like this? when Piss-Drunk Pete open his gin-soaked yap about how magnificently magnificent his warfighting warfighters are, it’s like all of his Christofascist tattoos became a real boy.

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there’s also nothing in the Sermon on the Mount about ‘blessed are the reality-denying imbeciles.’

reporter: “how much longer will Americans continue to see these high gas prices?”

Donny: “well, they're not very high…”

reporter: “they’re $4 a gallon.”

Donny: “that’s what ABC says.”

once again, Donny is his own worst enemy. this idiot’s poll numbers are cratering right now over sky-high gas prices, and he’s dragging the entire Republican party down with him — and his brilliant plan is to shove his big fat head in the sand and pretend it’s not happening.

keep on keeping on there, buddy. let us know how this bold strategy pays off for you in the midterms.

oh my god, Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants so fucking dumb, it’s painful to watch.

“millions of American small businesses, including restaurants, dry cleaners, corner stores. what is a corner store? I’ve never heard that term. I know what a corner store is but I’ve never heard it described— a corner store. who the hell wrote that?“

you know what a corner store is, you brain-dead asshole. it’s where you go to buy corners.

say it with me one more time: Donny is his own worst enemy.

when Donny is flummoxed by a common phrase like ‘corner store,’ he outs himself as an out-of-touch, pampered rich twit who’s never done his own shopping, not even once in his entire soft, coddled life.

you know, the kind of arrogant fuckface who has no idea what the price of gas is, and claims that ABC News is just making shit up when they say it’s $4 a gallon.

and because Donny never prepares in advance, we get to watch in real-time, on live TV, his mystified reaction to encounting a pair of words that anyone who has every had to actually work for a living knows full well what they mean.

it would have been the perfect moment for some reporter to have finally won my What The Fuck Is Wrong With You Challenge™, which is now in its 2,208th day.

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I want to end today’s post with something that has nothing at all to do with our fucked-up current events. it’s okay, I get to make the rules around here.

April 14 was the 68th birthday of the great Scottish actor Peter Capaldi. even if you’ve never heard the name, you know him as the guy in the fuckity-bye gif.

anyhoo, in honor Peter Capaldi’s birthday, I want you to watch this clip from the British TV show The Thick of It, in which Capaldi’s character, Malcolm Tucker, gives the all-time greatest description of Star Wars.

Peter Capaldi as Malcolm Tucker: “what’s that film that you love?”

Chris Addison as Oliver Reeder: “what film?”

Tucker: “the one about the fucking hairdresser — the space hairdresser and the cowboy. the guy, he’s got a tin-foil pal and a pedal bin. his father’s a robot and he’s fucking fucked his sister. LEGO — they’re all made of fuckin’ LEGO.”

Reeder: “Star Wars.”

Tucker: “that’s the one, right. it’s like that. we’re gonna fucking kill all the bad guys, and we’ll be able to blow up the big—”

Reeder: “Death Star.”

Tucker: “the Death Star thing. then you can go live happily ever after on the planet where the teddy bears are.”

Reeder: “they’re Ewoks. it’s a fantastic analogy. well done.”

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

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.

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“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:

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!

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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.

just in the nick of time, here comes that cautionary tale for why you should never play football without a helmet, Terminally-Concussed Tommy Tuberville, to let us know that it’s still okay to be a hateful piece of shit about Muslims.

“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.

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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 Zohran 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.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

United States Vice President Couchfuck McGee has been on quite the roll lately.

he spent an entire week in Hungary, campaigning for Dear Leader’s despot bestie Viktor Orbán — only for Vik to end up getting crushed in a historic landslide.

his attempt to wangle some kind of peace deal with Iran was a clownfucktacular disaster. after just one day of getting his smug, insufferable ass handed to him, he bailed and went home.

the latest stop on the JD Vance Worldwide Self-Humiliation Tour was the Akins Ford Arena in Athens, Georgia, and — well, you can see for yourself just how swimmingly that debacle went.

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ooof. that is pathetic. look at the sections upon sections upon sections of empty seats. it’s a ghost town.

we definitely need to gif that shit for posterity’s sake.

whoever had the bright idea to book an 8,500-seat hockey arena for an evening with the most-repellent person in American politics really deserves the Four Seasons Total Landscaping Completely Shat The Bed Prize.

for fuck’s sake, they could have held the event in any one of Athens’ numerous doughnut shops, and it would have been a more appropriately-sized venue.

‘so, how long have you been coming to see me speak? HA HA, THAT’S GREAT.’

but it’s a shame that more people didn’t show for the event, because they really missed out on a crowning moment of supreme arrogance. hey, did you know that Couchfuck McGee knows more about popery than all the popes?

it’s true!

“I think it’s very important [for the Pope] to be careful when he talks about matters of theology.”

‘the Pope needs to stop mouthing off about religion’ is a bold strategy for Vance. let’s see if it pays off for him.

even The New York Times was forced to commit a journalism.

that’s a hell of a headline, isn’t it?

you know, it’s kind of inaccurate to frame the piss-baby bellyaching that Donny and Couchfuck are engaging in as some kind of ‘feud’ they’re having with the Pope. it’s not. these dumbfucks are mental pipsqueaks. they’re not operating on the same level as Pope Chicago Bob.

it’s only a feud in the same way that you or I might ‘feud’ with two annoying gnats buzzing around our face.

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the unearned arrogance of Donny and his sewer clowns is stunning.

with every single member of Preznit Fuckwit’s administration, it’s as if Dunning and Kruger had a baby — and then dropped it on its head. not one of these shitwits has any idea just how totally fucking brainless they are.

Piss-Drunk Pete Kegstand, a Fox News weekend chat-show dunk-tank clown, imagines he knows more about warfighting than all the generals who have studied military strategy their entire lives — and look where Pete’s unwavering faith in his own nonexistent genius has gotten us: bogged down in an unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war in Iran.

chainsawed-whale-head enthusiast Bobby Brainworms Jr. believes he knows more about germ theory than all the actual scientists. in reality, he’s the Marvelous Mister Measles.

Donny, of course, lives in a magical, enchanted fever-swamp fairyland where he knows more about everything than everybody. anyone who falls for this patently ludicrous nonsense has been licking toads.

and now, the repulsive furniture fucker JD Vance has the temerity to lecture the Pope — the person who Catholics believe is God’s infallible representative on Earth — on theology.

the unearned and serene confidence of mediocre white men like Couchfuck McGee is stunning. if only there were some way to tap it, it could be an infinite source of cheap, renewable energy.

hang on — Captain Obvious has something else he needs to get off his chest.

“people don’t have any idea how bad the corruption is in Washington DC.”

of course, Couchfuck want you to believe that corruption in DC is a Democratic issue. fuck off, JD — We the People know exactly where the corruption in DC is. we see it every day. we see it when the Republican-controlled Congress abdicates their Constitutionally-mandated responsibility to act as a check on a power-mad president.

we see it when the Republican-controlled Supreme Court declares that Dear Leader is a Very Special Boy Who Gets To Crime All He Wants.

we see it when Donny’s own Department of What Used To Be Justice uses its power to suppress the Dead Pedo Bestie Files.

we see it when this wine-guzzling cow-cosplaying weirdo imagines her job is to prosecute all of Dear Leader’s political enemies.

we see it when Tom Homan gets caught on video accepting bags of cash from undercover agents, and then the whole thing mysteriously goes fuckity-bye.

and we see it when Dear Leader uses the power of his office to enrich himself, selling everything from access to pardons to fucked-up trading cards of himself as a super-hero.

so fuck all the way off, JD Vance — if that even is your real name — when you get all high and mighty about ‘corruption in DC.’ go clean up your own house first.

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you know what? I think the time has come for someone to 25th Amendment the shit out of Donny, and replace him with Couchfuck McGee.

think about it: a Vance presidency would be an immediate failure. he’s repulsive. nobody likes him. he’s boring. he’s impotent. he holds no sway over the media. nobody in Congress fears him.

he has no violent army of deranged cultists willing to break the law for him.

and we’d never have to worry about JD Vance ordering a nuclear strike on someone because he woke up in a bad mood.

he’d simply be a placeholder until the next Democratic president.

seriously, 25th Amendment Donny and bring this guy on.

and speaking of the 25th Amendment —

Rep. Jamie Raskin of Maryland, the top Democrat on the House Judiciary Committee, introduced a bill on Tuesday that seeks to kick-start the removal of President Donald Trump through the 25th Amendment — a long-shot effort that, while unlikely to succeed, aims to put renewed focus on the president’s mental fitness and recent rhetoric.

The legislation, which was offered with 50 Democratic co-sponsors, would establish a Commission on Presidential Capacity to Discharge the Powers and Duties of Office. That body would be composed of 17 members tasked with determining whether the president is incapacitated — “either mentally or physically” — and unable to discharge the powers and duties of office, as called for in Section 4 of the 25th Amendment.

I’m not being sarcastic when I say that more of this is exactly what we need right now.

of course, we need be clear-eyed about it. you can’t even call Raskin’s proposed legislation a hail-Mary shot. it hasn’t a snowball’s chance of passing in a Republican-controlled Congress.

but it’s important for Democrats to keep raising the issue of Donny’s steep mental decline, and keep it in the public’s consciousness — especially right now, when Dear Leader is acting so erratically — and fucking up so shittacularly — that even the the hardest-core MAGA cultists are beginning to be all ‘dude, what the fuck?’

it’s all about optics.

it’s necessary for the good of our nation — and the world — that people keep talking about how completely bugfuck nuts Donny is.

and — oh my — look who agrees with me for once: the NY Times.

Trump’s Erratic Behavior and Extreme Comments Revive Mental Health Debate

As President Trump threatens to wipe out Iran and attacks the pope, even some former allies and advisers are questioning whether he has grown increasingly unbalanced, describing him as “lunatic” and “clearly insane.”

welcome to the dark side, Grey Lady. it only took you shit-kazoos ten years to figure out what rest of us saw on Day One.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.

the past 72 hours have been a pretty wild ride, haven’t they?

let’s recap: Donny’s despot bestie Viktor Orbán got his ass kicked sky-high in Hungary. Donny’s clownshoes negotiating team shit the bed in their peace talks with Iran. Donny then stamped his feet and threatened to blockade the already blockaded Strait of Epstein™ until he turned blue in the face — blockadepalooza! Donny managed to insult another woman reporter. he also insulted Pope Leo. His Popeness then sniped right back at Donny.

then there was that whole day-long escapade where Donny posted some bugfuck AI slop of himself tarted up as Jesus, and then — shocker of shockers! — got dogpiled by his own normally-loyal evangelicals, who were outraged that Dear Leader would ever do such a thing, causing Donny to delete the post and try to pretend it never happened.

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fuck me, I need a nap just from typing all that out. so let’s take a moment to catch our breath. let’s just kick back and gaze in awe as Preznit Fuckwit wins the Nobel Dog Ate My Homework Prize for his groundbreaking work in the field of bullshit explanations.

reporter: “did you post that picture of yourself depicted as Jesus Christ?”

Donny: “well it wasn’t depicted— it was— me, I’ve— I did post it, and I thought it was me as a doctor, and— had to do with Red Cross as a Red Cross worker there which we support and uh, only the fake news could come up with that one, so I had— I had, uh— I just heard about it, and I said ‘how did they come up with that?’ it’s supposed to be me as a doctor, making people better — and I do make people better. I make people, uh, a lot better.”

that’s it? that’s the best cock-and-bull story Donny and his handlers could come up with, ‘I thought I was a doctor’?

come on, bro, at least put some effort into your lies. now you’re just phoning it in.

Donny thinks we’re all as bone-crushingly stupid as he is. he’ll just fart the dumbest fucking shit out of his rancid anus-mouth and we’re all expected to go ‘oh, okay.’

let’s cut the crap. Donny posted that pic because he fell in love with it the second he laid his dull, porcine eyes on it. he’s a broken-inside narcissist with a genuine god complex — and it played right into his fucked-up delusions of grandeur.

let’s have another look at Donny’s now-deleted not-tweet.

oh, come on. how many doctors do you know who swan about in flowing robes and have glowing hands while angelic what-the-fuck-even-is-that-horned-abomination-above-his-head float all around him?

if Donny saw that image and genuinely went ‘hey, I’m a doctor,’ then he at long last needs to be 25th Amendmented, pronto.

we’ll take our chances with the furniture fucker, thank you very much.

now, as the real Jesus so wisely counseled us in his Sermon on the Mount, ‘blessed are the meme-creators, for they shall win the internet’ — so let’s watch as Clara Jeffery does exactly that: win all the internets with her contribution to the discourse.

there’s also this, as seen in this morning’s Wonkette Tabs.

but let’s back up a bit, because that’s not even the bugfuckiest thing that happened yesterday. let’s talk about how Donny came to be outside the Oval Bordello, taking questions from reporters.

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check out this double dose of batshit, as some rando bearing bags of McDonald’s waltzes up to the Oval Bordello, knocks on the door and proceeds to shoot the shit with Preznit Fuckwit.

Donny: “hello, nice to see you.”

‘DoorDash Granny’: “nice to meet you. I have your DoorDash order for you.”

Donny: “that’s very nice. [looks straight into the camera] this doesn’t look staged, does it?”

of fucking course it looks staged — it was staged. but Donny is so far gone into his own haze of dementia that that he can’t even go five seconds without wandering off-script and giving away the game.

we’re supposed to swallow the fairy tale that Donny was sitting at the Resolute Desk — the same one that the Space Nazi’s kid wiped his snots all over — and he picked up his phone and punched in an order for burgers, and here comes DoorDash Granny Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail.

oh, please — Donny doesn’t do DoorDash. he doesn’t have the mental acuity to figure out the app. what Donny has is a big red button on his desk that summons presidential butler Walt Nauta to fetch him whatever he wants.

it’s all so stupid. you’d have to be as dumb as MAGA to think ‘oh yeah, that lady wandered up to the door all by herself without getting tackled by the Secret Service.’

and look at this: Donny’s fuglied up the exterior of the Oval Bordello with the same vulgar crap he slapped onto the inside.

ugh. I volunteer to personally pry all that shit off, the day our next president is inaugurated.

how desperate is Donny to change the subject away from his disastrous clusterfuck of a don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran that he now has to pull asinine publicity stunts?

here’s the deal with this ‘Door Dash Granny.’ her name is Sharon Simmons, and she got flown into DC from her home in Fayetteville, Arkansas, to appear in Donny’s dog-and-pony show.

she’s actually got a pretty grim story. this poor woman had to take up being a DoorDash driver in order to make ends meet after her husband ran up medical bills due to treatment for cancer.

the lesson we’re supposed to take away from this bogus White House photo-op is that because Big Benevolent Dear Leader got rid of taxes on tips, Sharon Simmons was able to save eleven grand on her tax bill — and yay, Donny, you’re the hero of the working class!

wrong answer, fuckface.

the real lesson here is that we live in a shithole country where any of us could get thrown into bankruptcy in a hot second because of a medical emergency — and if it happens to you, you’re expected to try to make ends meet by working your ass off in a shitty piecemeal gig-economy job.

Simmons, a grandmother of 10, began working as a Dasher in 2022 to earn income while maintaining a flexible schedule. Since then, she has completed more than 14,000 deliveries.

fourteen thousand deliveries in three-plus years — that sounds fucking idyllic, doesn’t it? this woman has ten grandchildren. she should be enjoying their company, not racing around town trying to beat the clock so she can make as many deliveries as possible and come home exhausted.

what in the actual fuck?

but instead of doing anything meaningful to solve the problem of crushing medical debt, Donny stages some useless stunt and preens for the camera. problem solved, Sharon — now get the fuck out of Dear Leader’s sight.

are you kidding me? look, eleven grand saved on taxes is nice, absolutely — but no fucking way does it even begin to cover treatments for cancer.

we’re the only industrialized nation on the planet that treats its citizens like shit and throws them to the wolves — and our unfeeling overlords should be ashamed of themselves.

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now, I know what you’re going to ask next: ‘Uncle Jeff, did the event go quickly off the rails when Sundowning Uncle Befuddlepants tried to wedge all of his favorite grudges and grievances into a photo op about no taxes on tips?’

do you even have to ask?

Donny: “do you think men should play in women's sports?”

Sharon Simmons: “I really don’t have an opinion on that. I’m here about no tax on tips.”

you see that? Donny and his ilk are trying to so hard to turn our country into the Transphobic States of America, and the average person couldn’t give a fuck about any of it — especially not when they’re struggling to make ends meet.

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let’s give today’s final word to The Popinator.

reporters caught up with Pope Leo aboard Pope Force One yesterday — and all they wanted to talk about was his feud with Donny.

“I will not shy away from announcing the message of the gospel. I’m inviting all people to look for ways of building bridges for peace and reconciliation, or looking for ways to avoid war, anytime that’s possible. to put my message on the same plane as what the president has attempted to do here, I think it’s, it’s not understanding what the message of the gospel is.”

Bluesky user Petty Tyrant, would you like to translate that from Popespeak into something that would be understandable to the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press?

“don’t both sides this; this is not a feud between rivals; he’s not on my level and treating his bullshit like it is on my level is to embrace and dignify his bullshit.”

or, as the chyron says at the bottom of that clip—

“Pope Leo: I don’t fear Trump Administration.”

never bet against a pope from Chicago.

here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.

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.