I’m so fucking tired of this fucking fuck

another day, another racist rally

he’s so fucking exhausting.

you want nothing more in this ever-loving world than to have a break from him — but there he is, hogging the headlines and sucking all the air out of the room. he’s right in your face, every single goddamned day.

the ignorance. the arrogance. the greed. the incompetence. the malignant narcissism. the preening grandiosity. the bottomless ego. the monumental stupidity. the homophobia, transphobia and misogyny.

the cheap, ill-fitting suits. the poorly-applied radioactive makeup. the rotting hands, the bloated cankles and the sagging neckgina.

the fucked-up rat’s nest of cotton-candy bullshit perched atop his big, dumb pumpkin head.

the disgusting racism.

“when they take something over, it’s always dirty. the sidewalks are dirty. the people— are — I hate to say this — not clean, okay? the curbs are loaded with you know what. the smell is terrible. I mean, I see it happening to cities. blue cities. they’re all blue.”

that was Preznit Fuckwit, blithering in front of an audience of cultists in Milford, Michigan. Donny had been feeling low about having clownfucked himself into an unwinnable don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran, and about having shit the bed at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner — so his handlers sent him and his stalker-slash-diaper-nurse off to an Emotional Support Rally, giving Donny the opportunity to bask in the uncritical adoration of morons.

yup, there’s good old Nattie, with her ever-present diaper bag.

Dear Leader was ostensibly talking about Democrats in that clip, as he ranted about dirty, smelly cities — but you know who he was really referring to: ‘those’ people. the ones who live in the cities. the — shudder — immigrants. the ones who are EATING THE DAWGS.

good lord, do you remember when Donny actually said that, during a 2024 presidential debate? Kamala Harris had the only proper reaction to that idiocy. she laughed right into his bloated face.

she spoke for all of us when clearly mouthed ‘oh, come on.’

that episode was just another in a long line of infuriating moments that would have ended the political career of any mere moral — but not Donny.

Dear Leader actually believes that shit. he really does think that Haitians are chowing down on cute little Fluffy and adorable Fido, just like he believes that all immigrants are dirty and smell bad — because deep down inside, he’s still that cheap racist slumlord from Queens, NY, who hates all the people his tyrant Klansman father taught him to hate.

oh wait, Racist McRacistface has something else he needs to get off his chest.

“but— they were coming into our country, and they are the roughest people in the world. remember they used to say, ‘oh, foreign people don’t commit crimes.’ they make our criminals look like babies. that’s the only thing good about them, they make our people look like absolute babies. but, uh, they are— you don’t get rough— Tren-der-agua, the roughest in the world. they cut off people’s fingers so that they don’t make a phone call. ‘you gonna make a phone call?’ ‘I’d like to call the police.’ voom! their fingers are gone.”

wow, these Trenderaguans sound brutal. I guess Donny’s right to want them out of our country.

THEY’RE EATING THE DAWGS. THEY’RE EATING THE CATS. THEY’RE CUTTING OFF THE FINGAHS.

where the fuck is Trenderagua, anyway? someone should ask Dear Leader to point to it on a map. I’d pay good money to watch that happen.

who is filling Donny’s ears with this racist garbage? my guess is Nosferatu McGoebbels — because ‘finger-cutting furriners’ sounds exactly like the kind of high-pitched hysterical horse shit that squirts out of his undead mouth. I’ll bet Donny calls him up in the middle of the night and goes, ‘Stephen, I can’t sleep. tell me the story about the fingers again.’

now let’s watch Dear Leader dear-leader the shit out of his dumbfuck cultists.

“the people that count. those people love Trump. because I’VE DONE MORE FOR YOU THAN YOUR PARENTS, OKAY? your parents are good, I’m not gonna knock your parents, but I have been better to you than your parents, that I can tell you.”

this, my friends, is exactly how cults work. this is the message that Dear Leader drills into the simple minds of his easily-manipulated followers.

‘nobody loves you like I do. nobody understands you like I do. nobody treats you like I do.’

all while he’s got his freakishly undersized hand in your pocket, relieving you of your cash.

free clue for the cultists: the guy who hates all his own children (except for the daughter he wants to quote-unquote ‘date,’ if that’s what we’re charitably going to call it) has not been better to you than your parents.

I’m pretty sure the rageaholic who smacked the shit out of Cokey McSniffles for not wearing a business suit to a baseball game isn’t winning any ‘father of the year’ awards.

now, of all the things that have never, ever happened to Donny, here’s one of the things that has never, ever happened the most.

“the transgender mutilization of our children in favor of men playing in women’s sports. I’ve looked at men playing in women's sports, it’s very unfair. I had a top, top, one of the top NFL football players standing next to a wonderful— FEMALE athlete, and they were playing a game of football, if you can believe this whole thing. this game did not work out very well. this was not a game that she will ever want to play again.”

we’re going to need to do a quick fact check here. did Donny actually witness a one-on-one football game between a ‘top NFL player’ and a ‘wonderful female athlete’?

what the fuck is this sundowning shit-sack hallucinating about now?

and his dumb-ass cultists clap at the drivel that seeps out of Dear Leader’s rancid anus-mouth, like it’s most brilliant bit of oratory they’ve ever experienced.

it’s so maddening.

so, Donny, do you have anything else to say before we get out of here?

“for years, you watch companies move their production from American down to Meh-hee-ho. MEH-hee-ho. I love the way— there’s a very nice president in Mexico, you know, that very nice— and she speaks beautifully. she calls it Meh-hee-ho. so I said to, uh, a group the other day, ‘and we will stop all business going to Meh-hee-ho’ and they didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.”

HA HA, it’s always funny when people pronounce the names of their countries using their own natural accents. what a knee-slapper.

hey, Donny — how do they speak down there in Trenderagua? can you do a little of that?

shut the fuck up, pendejo.

I’m so fucking tired of this fucking fuck.

I’m so fucking tired the brain-dead cultists who giggle and swoon at Dear Leader’s antics. I’m so fucking tired of the corrupt Supreme Court that allows him to get away with every fucking thing. I’m so fucking tired of the Congressional Republicans who look the other way. I’m so fucking tired of the worthless scribblers of the corporate-controlled press who refuse to do their fucking jobs.

I’m so fucking tired of waking up every morning and going, ‘what the fuck now?’

folks, the midterms are 98 days away. let’s blue-wave the shit out of the elections, so we can begin at least to restore a little bit of sanity to this country, and to the world.

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everything continues to totally fucking suck out of control right now, but at least we can all enjoy the fact that there was a rally in support of ahem alleged rapist and sex trafficker Andrew Tate in front of the jail where he’s being held, and exactly one sad loser showed up.

“all right everybody. I’m currently outside the jail where Andrew Tate is being held and, dude, I don’t see anybody here, bro. there’s not a single— I mean, it is raining, to be fair, but bro— not a single person?”

okay, you know the drill. it’s throw our heads back in laughter time.

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let’s have ourselves a little Daily Claudia. I think we’ve earned it.

oh look, it’s Katie and her mom. the date right there on the photo is January 15, 1992.

and I have no idea when this next one’s from — but it looks like it was taken at Katie’s preschool, so we’re talking 1994-1995, more or less.

have a great Tuesday, everyone. keep your fingers away from any Trenderaguans you might see down there in Meheeho.

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

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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.