yesterday morning, the oldest resident of the White House Assisted Living Facility managed to slip past his nurses and attendants, and wandered, lost and befuddled in an ever-thickening fog of dementia, onto its lawn, where he began to gibber incoherently.
“million-year life, it’s a very strong stone, it will never break, it will never leak, it will never do— this is the highest-quality stone you can get. and especially for something like this, it’s got— it’s rated million-year plus. that means it has a million year life. can you imagine that? it’s thirty five thousand pounds per square inch.”
what in the actual fuck? million-year what?
oh wait, the stupid shit is blithering about his farkakte helipad again, isn’t he?
yup, you guessed it. that’s exactly what Preznit Fuckwit is babbling about. yesterday, Donny gathered up the White House press pool, and dragged them all outside, so he could show off his latest vanity project that no one wanted, needed, or asked for.
while the entire world around us goes all to hell, this malignant toad remains laser-focused on stupid shit that absolutely does not matter to anyone but him.
listen to him, getting all excited about the million-year lifespan of granite in his Epstein Helipad. he’s so out of touch. nobody gives a shit, you self-absorbed, narcissistic fuck.
it’s stunning. Donny doesn’t know the first thing about his actual job — presidenting. he hasn’t the slightest clue about how tariffs work. ask him how a bill become a law, and he’ll just stare at you blankly. but ask him about how many pounds per square inch his helipad can withstand, and away he goes, blithering at warp factor nine.
who fucking cares? fix the country you broke, asshole.
but wait — I left out the best part. check out how that clip ends:
“they’re putting the granite top on. and the granite top says ‘THE seal of— the United States of America. that’s the exact— term. if you look at, uhhh, the SEALS— of the presidents, ‘the Seal of the President of the United States of America,’ meaning— the president is— in the White House. this is for many presidents. this is in for— this is for— many presidents. they will have it for— a long time.”
what the fuck is this rat’s nest of word-adjacent noises that just tumbled out of Dear Leader’s rancid anus-mouth? hang on, did Donny just dumbfucksplain the presidential seal of office?
I swear, Donny’s brain has gone fuckity-bye. he can barely string together a coherent sentence, while he imagines that the meaning of the presidential seal is so impenetrably mystifying, that he needs to explain it to the White House press corps.
Donny shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the levers of power. he’s too cognitively collapsed. he should be somewhere safe, where he can’t hurt himself or others. he should be playing patty-cake with Diaper Nurse Natalie. ‘look Donny, I’ve got your nose.’
oh, sorry. Dear Leader isn’t finished extolling the virtues of his Epstein Helipad.
“in fact, instead of being on grass now, they’ll be using that, almost like a table. uh, they can have events on it, they can have people go there for cocktails, and then walk to the ballroom, after that’s finished. we can have really incredible— this is unbelievable for state. without even having to go in the White House, they get out of the car, on the beautiful new roadway. they get out of the car, and they walk down this path, onto that, and then can have cocktails and everything outside of the White House and then they go into the ballroom.”
oh, come the fuck on. is this guy the president, or is he the Event-Planner-in-Chief?
how nice for this oblivious imbecile, that — while We the People struggle to pay our bills — he can have cocktail parties on his fucking helipad.
can Diaper Nurse Natalie or someone please explain to Dear Leader that the White House is not just another one of his golf motels? I ask, because he seems to be genuinely confused about that.
this is the People’s House. it’s the seat of government, and it belongs to all of us. it’s not some place for Donny to hang out and shoot the shit with his oligarch cronies after he’s finished cheating at golf. the White House is not Donny’s personal plaything, to bulldoze and wreck as he sees fit.
nobody wants this shit. nobody needs this shit. We the People just want to be able to walk into a supermarket and walk out with a week’s worth of groceries, without having to take out a second mortgage our our home.
we don’t need one more White House party space. if Donny wants to host some gazillionaire-palooza cocktail fest, he’s already got his Epstein Parking Lot where the Rose Garden used to be.
and we sure as fuck don’t need any Epstein Dance Hall, which is apparently now also going to be a heavily-fortified military base. Fort Epstein, home of the fightin’ twenty-third drone battalion.
“and now we’re going to walk over, and we’re going to see— this goes— equidistant of the other side, and right over there, you’ll notice, is where the— ballroom and military complex will be. and the military complex is going have a drone-proof uh roof, and you’re going to have on top of the roof, you’re gonna have drones. many drones, which will protect— Washington DC and will protect the White House. very important.”
hang on, let me see if I understand Donny correctly. his Epstein Dance Hall is going to have drones on its drone-proof roof, in order to protect the drone-proof roof from attack from drones.
yes, that all makes perfect sense to me — except for the part where NOBODY ASKED FOR ANY OF THIS.
here’s what We the People Want: for Donny to fix the shit he broke.
end this moronic unwinnable war, and get the Strait back open, so the price of gas can start coming down. get those fucking masked and armed federal thugs off the streets of our cities, so people can feel safe from their own government again. stop bulldozing Washington for idiotic vanity projects, and take his accursed name off face off of everything. fix the tariffs. fix our relationships with our allies. stop snuggling up to despots.
if Donny does that, we’ll let him have all the drone-proof drones he wants.
you really have to admire the MAGAsphere’s committment to normalizing every bit of dumbfuckery that comes out of the Donnyverse.
I mean, who among us hasn’t joyridden in the trunk of an SUV — just as Donny’s diaper nurse did — after having a screaming melt-down because we were told there was no room for us in Dear Leader’s motorcade?
Newsmax’s Rob Schmitt: “if you got one too many, you throw them in back, you sit right there, you’re in the conversation, you need a ride, that’s how you get there. I’ve done it many times myself.”
oh sure, some overgrown frat boy with too many beers in him, tossed into the back of an SUV because he’s too smashed to sit up straight, is exactly the same as some unstable stalker throwing a five-alarm shit-fit because Dear Leader’s handlers are trying to keep her far the fuck away from him.
perfectly normal stuff.
maybe we need to have a Daily Ossoff. he just keeps on saying all the right things.
last night, Jon Ossoff went on Lawrence O’Donnell’s show, to basically verbalize what we’ve all been thinking about this whole tiresome Diaper Nurse Natty saga.
“Lawrence, it’s been amazing to watch this White House melt down over this, all week. and about Natalie Harp: these White House staffers are adults. public officials, paid by the taxpayers, with immense power, in positions of public trust. and whether it’s Natalie Harp printing out Donald Trump’s daily dose of delusion and flattery, or Peter Navarro steering taxpayer-funded loans to Trump-family investments, or Pete Hegseth deluding the president daily into deepening this quagmire in the Middle East. the sailors on the Lincoln are fighting his war — a war based on lies, while he plays with his new ballroom, flies around on a jet given to him by a foreign prince, and retreats into this circle of sycophantic aides who tell him every day what he wants to hear, not what he needs to hear. this entire White House is responsible for lying the country into war, and for the rest of their careers, they will be known for having participated in this obscenity.”
Ossoff nails it. one of the main reasons our country is in the shitter right now is because Donny lives in a fact-free bubble, where his biggest worry is the density of the granite on his shiny new Epstein Helipad — and that’s because everyone in the White House understands that it’s their job to keep Dear Leader stupid and happy.
it’s unsustainable, and it’s fucking embarrassing.
hey kids, what time is it? it’s Daily Claudia time!
here’s Ms Spouse, looking really thrilled to be photographed post-shower on June 18, 2022. what can I say? I thought she looked cute.
and here she is, in the dining room of our old house in Hastings, on December 22, 2001.
have a great Thursday, everyone. have you had one too many? remember, that’s what the trunk of an SUV is for.
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.
today in Shit That Happened While I Was Busy Writing This Shit—
I ain't got one! there isn't a single news notification on my phone right now. so you tell me, commenters — what's going on in the world that I'm missing?
Ossof struck a chord. A Harpsichord.