Holy Mike Johnson: useless pantload or terminally-concussed shitwit?
a day in the life of a shameless lying liar
every day in America, something incredibly fucked up happens. usually, Little Donny Fuckface is at the center of it. the evil shitwad does something beyond human decency, or says something preternaturally moronic, and — boom! — there’s your top story. it makes headlines. it’s on all the news shows, it’s all over social media. it’s unavoidable.
but there’s always one homey who’s perpetually in the dark.
no matter what that top story is, Holy Mike Johnson — the limpest dick ever to wield the Speaker’s gavel — has made it his life’s mission to have no fucking clue what anyone’s talking about.
Manu Raju: “last week you were very critical of Biden’s use of the autopen and pardons. but Trump admitted on 60 Minutes to not knowing he pardoned a crypto billionaire who pleaded guilty to money laundering. does that also concern you?”
Holy Mike: “I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t see the interview. I’m not sure.”
folks, please keep Mike Johnson in your thoughts and prayers — he’s apparently suffering from some kind of head trauma that keeps him from forming memories. he doesn’t know anything about anything.
should Holy Mike be undergoing MRIs and those point-at-the-camel cognitive tests? maybe — but perhaps he’s just a klutz. maybe each morning, as he exits the shower, he conks his noggin on the shower rail, leaving him too concussed to process information.
whatever it is, it’s heartbreaking. every day, Holy Mike stands before the assembled press, and hasn’t the slightest clue what’s going on.
he knows nothing. he’s become the Sgt. Shultz of the House.
a few days ago, reporters asked Mike to comment on masked ICE goons shooting a minister in the face with pepper balls. Mike’s reaction was pepper what now?
reporter: “just last week a minister was shot directly in the face with a pepper round by a DHS agent that left his face bloodied. are you concerned that this is a religious freedom issue?”
Holy Mike: “I can’t comment on any of those instances. I haven’t seen or heard any of those videos.”
a couple weeks ago, some January 6 fuckwad who’d been pardoned by Dear Leader was arrested for threatening to kill Hakeem Jeffries. Holy Mike was sans clue.
reporter: “a pardoned January 6 rioter was charged with threatening to kill Hakeem Jeffries.”
Holy Mike: “terrible. that’s the first I’ve heard of that. I don’t know anything about it.”
but the question must be asked: is whatever Holy Mike suffers from contagious? I’m asking because Oklahoma Senator Markywayne Mullin showed up on CNN yesterday, and when asked about Donny’s pardon escapades, Marky Two-Names was baffled.
Kaitlin Collins: “should the president know who he’s pardoning?”
Markwayne Mullin: “I don’t know anything about this one. that’s the first time I’ve seen that.”
Markwayne Mullin, it must be noted, is what would happen if a clown car became a real boy.
what’s up with the clownish cowboy hat? Marky Two-Names is not a cowboy. he’s a fucking plumber, I shit you not.
hang on, medical researchers at the world-renowned Mayo Clinic have determined the exact cause of Holy Mike’s memory issues:
he’s a fucking liar.
of course Mike Johnson is totally up on current events. he’s merely perfected the Republican art of shamelessly lying his face off about everything.
listen to Mike lie about SNAP benefits.
“these blue states have abused the SNAP program just like they’ve abused Medicaid and so many other government programs.”
fact check: fuck straight off into the sea.
“Burn in hell, you lying fucking weasel. Blue states pay exponentially higher taxes to the federal government to subsidize poor red states where welfare and food stamps is a way of life.”
thank you, Judy. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
but Holy Mike’s biggest lie of all is about his refusal to swear in Adelita Grijalva. ‘I’d love to,’ says Mike. ‘but I can’t. the House isn’t in session. it’s out of my hands. there’s nothing I can do. my arm is broken. look, look how dangly it is.’
please. don’t fucking insult our intelligence. the House isn’t in session because Holy Mike refuses to gavel it into session — and it’s all about protecting Dear Leader, because Grijalva is that all-important 218th ‘yes’ vote that would force the release of the Epstein Files.
look at this shameless weasel pretend it’s Grijalva’s own fault that she can’t do her job.
“I’ve told Rep. Grijalva she needs to get to work. She needs to stop doing TikTok videos and serve her constituents... In the meantime, she should be taking her constituents’ calls. Her constituents have serious challenges and problems right now.”
what the fuck are you talking about, you festering pustule?
Adelita Grijalva can’t take calls. she can’t serve her constituents. she can’t do any of that shit. she’s not sworn in. she’s not a representative. she doesn’t have a budget, or a staff. she doesn’t even have a fucking email address.
what’s with all the lying? isn’t Holy Mike supposed to be some kind of super-Christian? isn’t there some commandment about thou shalt not be a fibbing fuckface?
it just seems very un-Jesusy. I don’t recall anything in the Sermon on the Mount about ‘blessed are the fucking liars,’ do you?
so here’s where we are. the government is shut down. the county’s in chaos. the military roams the streets of our cities. people are struggling to feed their families.
everything is in tatters.
the Great Fatsby is lost in a fog of dementia, and completely detached from reality. he cares more about the marble fixtures in some gaudy bordello bathroom than about actually running the country.
and the Speaker of the House can’t be relied upon to give a straight answer to a single fucking question. all he really cares about is making sure those Dead Pedo Bestie files never see the light of day.
remember back in grade school, when your teachers kept yammering on about how America had the greatest system of government ever invented?
what the fuck happened?
because all I’m seeing is dysfunction. Republicans have taken competent governance and clownfucked it into something unrecognizable.
but let’s get back to Holy Mike, because he has one more lie to get off his chest. it’s about the GOP ‘plan’ to replace Obamacare.
of course, there is no GOP plan to replace Obamacare. they’ve been lying about it for the fifteen years that the ACA has been a thing.
but Mike, like all Republicans, keeps spinning the same fever-swamp fairy tale about how a healthcare plan is just around the corner. it’ll be ready in two weeks. Mike, naturally, would love to tell you all about this plan, but he can’t — because the details apparently are a state secret.
“we’re not gonna be on a conference call explaining all our plans and strategies for healthcare reform, because they’re leaked in real time.”
excuse me, but what? there’s a plan, but you can’t talk about it because the details will get leaked?
oh come on, that’s not even a good lie.
it’s a healthcare plan. it’s not plans for atomic weapons. who are we keeping a healthcare plan secret from? the Soviets? we don’t want the Russians to steal our advanced healthcare technology?
is anyone besides the MAGA cultists gullible enough to chow down on this shit sandwich?
folks, it turns out that I have a copy of the GOP healthcare plan. I can’t divulge who leaked it to me, but here it is:
just fucking die.
that’s the plan. just fucking die, or go bankrupt — unless you’re wealthy enough to pay for medical care out of your own pocket. because Republicans couldn’t give a shit about you.
oh wait — there’s an exception to the ‘just fucking die’ rule.
it turns out that you can have all the healthcare in the world, just so long as you’re one of Dear Leader’s cronies.
which brings us to Scott Adams, the Dilbert dipshit who fucked his own multi-million dollar cartoon empire into oblivion when he went on a racist diatribe a couple years back and got dropped by every publisher in the universe.
Scott Adams has advanced prostate cancer — and Scott is just now learning what so many of us have known for a long time: that huge, faceless insurance corporations couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about you, or your health problems.
“My healthcare provider, Kaiser of Northern California, has approved my application to receive a newly FDA-approved drug called Pluvicto. But they have dropped the ball in scheduling the brief IV to administer it and I can’t seem to fix that.”
for anyone — even a shitweasel like Scott Adams — to be treated like dirt by their insurers fucking sucks.
but Adams has an ace up his sleeve that you don’t: friends in high places.
how nice for Scott, that Bobby Brainworms saw his tweet and decided to do him a solid.
and sure enough —
how nice for Scott Adams.
but what about the rest of us, who have to deal with uncaring corporations, and have no one to pull strings for us? can Dear Leader do us a solid?
come on, Donny — people out here are hurting. how about you stop making excuses about why you can’t, and pay out those full SNAP benefits, like you’ve been ordered to? how about restoring those Obamacare tax credits, and reopening the government? how about actually doing something?
Donny? hello?
oh dear, he’s wandered away to play with bathroom fixtures again.
and, as with all of these ‘I got mine’ fuckers, there’s always a tweet — because of course there is. here’s Scott Adams on weighing in on healthcare policy two years ago, when he was in perfect health.
oh, okay. thanks for explaining it, asshole.
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.
890 / 979
I probably need to explain that "I'd love to but I can't — my arm is broken. look, look how dangly it is" is a private joke between me and Ms. Spouse. it's a thing we say to each other when one of us asks the other for helping doing something.
oh the joys of a 45-year-long relationship
here's a thing I learned some time ago: if you ever think of something really clever that you imagine you invented, don't google it, because you'll only be disappointed to learn someone else thought of it first.
which is why it took me three days to work up the courage to google "the Great Fatsby" — and I learned it was the title of a Leslie West album release in 1975.
arrgh