Mike Lindell won’t quit, Karoline Leavitt does quit, and and Liddle Marco Big-Shoes gets left behind

further tales of Republican dumbfuckery

yesterday was another one of those days where the stupid was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. here a stupid, there a stupid, everywhere a stupid stupid — and you know what that means: it’s time once again to roll out the old Big Wheel of Moron™, give it a vigorous spin, and see where it lands. ready? here we go.

oh look, the Big Wheel has landed on chopped foam pillow salesman Mike Lindell, because of course it has. Chopped Pillow Mike was the Donny-endorsed Republican candidate in Tuesday’s Minnesota gubernatorial primary — and he got fucking crushed, because of course he did.

Crackhead McPillowpusher never had a snowball’s chance of wining that election, but that isn’t stopping him from refusing to concede defeat, and whining about how everything was rigged, because of course he is.

“we were favored three days ago by nine points. this is mathematically impossible. we’ll let you know in the next few days what's gonna happen. I’m not gonna sit by until these numbers are explained. we’re gonna reconcile these numbers because if they don’t make sense we’re gonna look into it. we’re not gonna let this happen.”

oh, stop whining and dry your eyes, you fucking loser. folks, I think Mike needs a binkie, don’t you? eat binkie, Mike.

how sad is it that Mike stepped down as CEO of his shitty pillow factory in order to run for governor, and now he’s an election loser and out of a job?

wait, did I say sad? oops, I meant to say that it’s super fucking hilarious.

have you ever met a bigger bunch of piss-baby sore losers than the MAGAsphere? they can’t even accept their losses like any grown adult would and just vow to do better next time.

no, everything with these whiny idiots always has to be a conspiracy. everything is always rigged against them. so unfair! so unfair!

Donny sure taught these ass-clowns well.

sorry, Mike. you didn’t just lose — you got a royal thrumping.

get your ass back to the pillow factory, Mike. you’re a fucking loser, and all the blubbery bellyaching in the world is never going to change that.

well, that was fun. let’s give that Big Wheel of Moron™ another tug. okay, here it goes—

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Mike Lindell might want to read this next section, because here comes White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt to teach a master class in quitting.

she’s stepping down from her job in order to spend more time lying to her family.

good fucking riddance. at no time during her tenure as press secretary did the truth ever pass her lips. not even once, not even by mistake.

Karoline Leavitt was useless. she was absolutely useless. she was as useless as a marzipan dildo.

Karoline leaves the same way she entered — as a smug, condescending mean-girl-wannabe.

Leavitt on Epstein: “We’re moving on from that.”

fuck off. we’re never moving on from the Dead Pedo Bestie files.

Karoline Leavitt gave no real reason for quitting, aside from yadda-yadda, time with family, but even though I have no proof, I’d like to imagine that there’s something big coming — something so big that even Karoline won’t be able to lie Donny’s way out it it.

you might say I’m a dreamer, but I fucking well bet I’m not the only one.

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now it’s time to talk about this cockamamie story about how Preznit Fuckwit was so terrified of being exploded to smithereens by Iranian missiles that he had himself secretly taken off of Fuckface Force One by squeezing his lard-ass into a catering truck and being carried off to a smaller plane, Coward Force One — leaving random White House staffers and the entire press corps behind, to be used as sitting duck decoys in case there were any actual Iranian fuckery.

what a role model Dear Leader is. what a profile in courage. oh, and by the way — when the CIA was asked for comment, they were all ‘we don’t know what the fuck Dear Leader was yammering about.’

The assassination threat was relayed by the Israeli government to the CIA, where analysts did not view the intelligence as compelling and conveyed that skepticism to Trump administration officials, one of the officials said.

anyway, yesterday we learned which favored members of the Donnyverse got to fly with him on Coward Force One, and which ones got left behind.

now, I know the very first thing you’re going to ask: ‘Uncle Jeff, did Donny’s stalker-slash-diaper-nurse get to sit by Dear Leader’s side, aboard Catering Cart One?’

do you even have to ask? you fucking well bet she did. she’s an essential member of the team — because you never know when Donny’s going to need an emergency clean-up after dropping a few missiles of his own, if you catch my drift.

know who else was on the plane? presidential butler Walt Nauta, on the off chance that Donny needed a Diet Coke served to him on a silver platter mid-flight.

Pete Kegstand was aboard, too. no clue why Donny would want that piss-drunk embarrassment taking up valuable space aboard his getaway plane. maybe he was there to constantly monitor Dear Leader’s t-levels. maybe he was there for comic relief.

‘sir! sir! watch me dance, sir!’

but you know who didn’t get to ride aboard Coward Force One, and was relegated to ‘fuck you, get blown to bits on the decoy, Dear Leader couldn’t care less about you’ status?

none other than Liddle Marco Big-Shoes. that’s right, Donny wouldn’t even protect the life of his Secretary of State.

after doing everything in his power to suck-up to Dear Leader — including walking around in the freakishly oversized clown shoes that Donny forced him to wear — Dear Leader was all ‘the fuck you doing here, Marco? get back on the other plane, with all the other peons.’

oof — how humiliating.

I’m loving this for Marco. Donny don’t care if he gets blowed up. Donny don’t care if he gets blowed up real good.

let this be a lesson to the entire Donnyverse: at the end of the day, Dear Leader couldn’t give a literal shit if you live or die. it doesn’t matter how much you’ve done for him, because it will never be enough. that’s how malignant narcissists roll.

you may be useful to Donny today, but that doesn’t mean that tomorrow, he won’t be all ‘get the fuck onto the kiddie plane.’

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hey, guess what: it’s time for our Daily Claudia.

here’s a trio of Katie and her mom at the Shipwright’s Daughter in Mystic, CT, on July 10, 2025.

have a great Wednesday, everyone. don’t be a sore loser. it’s not a good look on anyone.

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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.