President Rottinghands McCankles declares himself to be in perfect health
oh, please
how much of this bullshit do they expect us to swallow?
let’s talk about the unhealthiest diaperload ever to crap himself silly in the Oval Bordello.
we’ve all seen his blackened hands. yeesh. they look like someone’s been going at them night and day with a meat tenderizing mallet. we’ve all seen him teetering unsteadily, unable to walk a simple straight line. his horrifically bloated ankles look like two about-to-burst balloons. he can barely keep his beady little pig-eyes open in the middle of the day. what’s left of his liquifying brain is in cognitive free-fall. and what the fuck even is that thing on his neck?
so of course, after this rotting meatsack of pathologies has his third ‘annual’ check-up in thirteen months at Walter Reed, what does Preznit Fuckwit do? he once again declares himself to be the perfect picture of health — a picture of health like few thought possible. maybe the perfectest picture ever.
“Just finished my 6 month physical at Walter Reed Military Medical Center. Everything checked out PERFECTLY. Thank you to the great Doctors and Staff! Heading back to the White House. President DJT”
oh, please. do fuck straight off with this hallucinatory nonsense. fact check:
naturally, Donny’s handlers immediately rushed over to Elon’s Nazi Bar and Child Porn Emporium to spread this fairy tale — because of course they did.
come on. ‘perfect bill of health’ in a pig’s eye.
as usual, Preznit Fuckwit and his minders are lying to us — and, just as usual, they’re not even bothering to make up credible lies. there is no fucking way on earth that Donny’s checkup found him in perfect health.
these ‘Donny’s in perfect health’ lies weren’t even believable eight years ago, when Donny was simply a doughy overweight pantload, too lazy to get out of his golf cart and walk twenty feet to the green — but now he’s visibly deteriorating before our very eyes, and they still expect us to swallow this shit wholesale.
hey, Donny’s handlers, I have a question: if Dear Leader so preternaturally healthy, how about releasing the results of yesterday’s checkup, so that anyone who wants to can read them?
oh that’s right, we’re not allowed to see any of Donny’s records. as usual, we can just go fuck ourselves.
as always, We the People are not allowed to know shit. you want to see Donny’s grades? go fuck yourself. you want to see his tax returns? go fuck yourself. oh, did you want to see the full, unredacted Dead Pedo Bestie files? you can go fuck yourself until you’re blue in the face.
they won’t even tell us how many tries it took for Dear Leader to correctly point to the drawing of the camel yesterday. go fuck yourself.
but please, tell us again how transparent Donny’s flunkies have been. that’s such a cute story.
fuck you.
now, what the hell is this abomination?
that’s not some AI slop you’re looking at. that’s an actual photograph of the White House, taken yesterday. they’re building a fucking stadium on the South Lawn so Donny can hold a wrestling match on June 14th. they’re building a cage so that two grown-ass adults can dress up in costumes and pretend to fight each other.
how perfectly dignified.
it’s just the latest embarrassment that no one asked for, but Donny’s going to inflict on us anyway. along with the Epstein Dance Hall, the Epstein Parking Lot where the Rose Garden used to be, that dumbfuck Wall of Heroes with the photo of Joe Biden’s autopen, the botched blue paint job on the Reflecting Pool, and all that tacky gold-spray-painted tat in the Oval Bordello, now we’re getting an Epstein Wrestling Cage, on the fucking lawn of the People’s House.
it just makes you want to hide your head in shame.
it’s all so penny ante. it’s all so tasteless. it’s all so lowbrow. and, once again, it’s just so fucking infuriating. the White House belongs to We the People. it’s not one of Donny’s shitty golf motels. it’s not supposed to be a personal plaything he can endlessly fuck up every time some new harebrained notion rattles around in his big dumb pumpkin head.
the 2028 Democratic presidential candidate must run on a promise to appoint a cabinet-level Secretary of Unfucking All That Shit, to restore the White House — and all of DC — to its former dignified state.
and once again, I’m making it publicly known that I will volunteer to go down to DC in 2029 and personal pry that crap off the Oval Bordello walls.
who’s with me?
Ken Paxton crushed incumbent Senator John Cornyn in yesterday’s Texas Republican Senate primary runoff.
Paxton, of course, is Texas’ filthy-as-fuck Attorney General. his Democratic opponent, James Talarico, calls him ‘the most corrupt politician in America’ — with good reason.
Paxton’s been wallowing in the mud for twenty years. he’s been indicted on securities fraud charges. he’s been investigated by the FBI after being accused of bribery and abuse of office. he’s been sued for firing whistleblowers. he was impeached by the Texas House.
oh, and he cheated on his wife. heck of a job, Kenny!
Texas Republicans had a perfectly loyal Trumpist on the ballot in Cornyn — yet they overwhelmingly chose the shitbag, just because Dear Leader told them to. it’s a fucking cult.
the Republican Party is beyond repair.
we haven’t had a hero of the day for a while, so let’s have us one right now. it’s this protester in front of the New Jersey ICE concentration camp, who, when told by some asshole Fox reporter that she had a ‘dirty mouth,’ replied ‘you are a Nazi bitch.’
we thank you for your service.
and now it’s high time we had us some Daily Claudia.
here’s Ms. Spouse in the living room on February 14, 2016, with an expression that says ‘enough with the camera. go do something useful.’
and here she is, blowing out her birthday candle at the Hudson Valley Steakhouse in 2022.
have a great Wednesday, everyone. don’t be a Nazi bitch.
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— hmm, I got nothing. for some reason, there are no notifications on my phone. okay, gang, what am I missing?
It’s hard to stay rage-filled after those lovely photographs of the lovely Claudia.