Doctor Jesus heals Donny’s dementia, and other things that never happened the most
Dear Leader thinks we're all as stupid as he is
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.
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.
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.
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?’
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.
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.
yes, I know that the headline — which I wrote last night — doesn't really have much to do with the post under it — which I wrote this morning. I liked the headline too much to change it. so sue me
"we’ll take our chances with the furniture fucker, thank you very much" 🤣🤣
Seriously...get the felon locked away in a nursing home and let JD take the reins because he's so inept, he cant even order doughnuts... it'll be fine.
And Every American MUST VOTE in the midterms because if Hungary can do it, we can do it. We must do it.