Friday, Friday
When they go low (lower), I try to go high, but damn, I can't help wanting to see Scranton Joe take Lord Shitgibbon "out behind the gym." Apparently no one ever has, and a timely beating might have jarred him into some kind of emotional maturity; some people only learn by getting bloodied. It's far too late now, of course, and it won't happen. The Mean Widdle Kid only fights with his Twitter machine while hiding behind his monstrous regiment of lawyers. If you raised a fist he'd piss his panties and cry. Big talk, little hands.
Yesterday he dragged the ever-compliant media to Washington to provide free coverage of the opening of his neweyesore hotel, already known as the Trump Trivago because every room is available at a deep discount. (Why cover real news in far-off North Dakota? Leave that to Amy Goodman.) As they fixed on their grimaces and cut the ribbon, it was clear that Morticia and the boys are desperate to get Daddy out of the family business before he runs through the rest of their grandfather's money. I am now convinced they talked him into politics. What, you think only Putin knows how to appeal to Trump's vanity and stupidity? Who knows him better?
But, but, emails! WikiLeaks! Somebody at the Clinton foundation asked somebody for money! Let's have an investigation! Let's bring it up at every opportunity! Let's not ask why, if Julian Assange is not a rapist, he doesn't hurry back to Sweden and demand a trial so he can put it all behind him. Not saying he is, not suggesting he and Trump share an attitude toward women or anything. Maybe he likes living in one room in the Ecuadorean embassy. London is a very expensive city, so maybe he's just cheap. One more trait he shares with Trump.
Two more weeks. That's what, nineteen polls? Steve Kornacki, sleeves rolled up, in front of a map, eagerly relaying that nineteen percent of suburban, college-educated, left-handed women who live west of the Mississippi and east of the Rockies are still undecided. He's just so excited, he reminds me of the Monty Python election night sketch: "Can I just say this is the first time I've ever appeared on television?" Which in turn reminds me of the terrible news that Terry Jones has dementia and is losing the ability to speak. Some people have real problems, and we should never forget.
Speaking of hacker chicanery, whatever became of Edward Snowden? Did he buy a house in Moscow? How is he paying for it? Somebody in Russia is mighty good at cyberinvading the United States. Planting the seeds of suspicion and doubt -- it's what we do.
Giuliani: "When I think of Hillary Clinton I picture her in an orange jumpsuit." I won't dispute America's Mayor when it comes to prison wear. After all, my father didn't spend time in Sing Sing. Oh, too soon, Rudolph? If only we had had a wall back then to keep the Italians out.
The first Hillary-is-a-lesbian claim has drifted in from the sewage farm, later than I expected. Powerful women have been scaring the shit out of men for centuries, and men have retaliated by creating myths, often shockingly grotesque ones. So far, Clinton has not been accused of having sex with horses like Catherine the Great, but keep an eye on Drudge -- it's the kind of thing his maggoty little brain would bring forth.
When FDR proposed increasing the number of Supreme Court justices so they would stop blocking his New Deal programs it was called "court packing" and the right basically went bananas. Now the Republicans have threatened to keep the Court one justice short if they continue to control the Senate and if That Woman is elected, because wah wah. As it is, Mitch "One Set of Great-grandparents Is Enough For Anybody" McConnell has held up the appointment of Merrick Garland for nearly a year. The Republicans adore the Constitution so much, they only take it out and use it on special occasions. And as has often been said, Trump is no aberration. He is the apotheosis of Republican obstructionism, the Armageddon battle of their war on democracy, the triumph of fascism. We have to make sure these mariners wear the Albatrump around their necks for all time.
On day one, President Clinton should appoint Gonzalo Curiel to the Supreme Court. Impeach that, motherfuckers.
Yesterday he dragged the ever-compliant media to Washington to provide free coverage of the opening of his new
But, but, emails! WikiLeaks! Somebody at the Clinton foundation asked somebody for money! Let's have an investigation! Let's bring it up at every opportunity! Let's not ask why, if Julian Assange is not a rapist, he doesn't hurry back to Sweden and demand a trial so he can put it all behind him. Not saying he is, not suggesting he and Trump share an attitude toward women or anything. Maybe he likes living in one room in the Ecuadorean embassy. London is a very expensive city, so maybe he's just cheap. One more trait he shares with Trump.
Two more weeks. That's what, nineteen polls? Steve Kornacki, sleeves rolled up, in front of a map, eagerly relaying that nineteen percent of suburban, college-educated, left-handed women who live west of the Mississippi and east of the Rockies are still undecided. He's just so excited, he reminds me of the Monty Python election night sketch: "Can I just say this is the first time I've ever appeared on television?" Which in turn reminds me of the terrible news that Terry Jones has dementia and is losing the ability to speak. Some people have real problems, and we should never forget.
Speaking of hacker chicanery, whatever became of Edward Snowden? Did he buy a house in Moscow? How is he paying for it? Somebody in Russia is mighty good at cyberinvading the United States. Planting the seeds of suspicion and doubt -- it's what we do.
Giuliani: "When I think of Hillary Clinton I picture her in an orange jumpsuit." I won't dispute America's Mayor when it comes to prison wear. After all, my father didn't spend time in Sing Sing. Oh, too soon, Rudolph? If only we had had a wall back then to keep the Italians out.
The first Hillary-is-a-lesbian claim has drifted in from the sewage farm, later than I expected. Powerful women have been scaring the shit out of men for centuries, and men have retaliated by creating myths, often shockingly grotesque ones. So far, Clinton has not been accused of having sex with horses like Catherine the Great, but keep an eye on Drudge -- it's the kind of thing his maggoty little brain would bring forth.
When FDR proposed increasing the number of Supreme Court justices so they would stop blocking his New Deal programs it was called "court packing" and the right basically went bananas. Now the Republicans have threatened to keep the Court one justice short if they continue to control the Senate and if That Woman is elected, because wah wah. As it is, Mitch "One Set of Great-grandparents Is Enough For Anybody" McConnell has held up the appointment of Merrick Garland for nearly a year. The Republicans adore the Constitution so much, they only take it out and use it on special occasions. And as has often been said, Trump is no aberration. He is the apotheosis of Republican obstructionism, the Armageddon battle of their war on democracy, the triumph of fascism. We have to make sure these mariners wear the Albatrump around their necks for all time.
On day one, President Clinton should appoint Gonzalo Curiel to the Supreme Court. Impeach that, motherfuckers.
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 1:20 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home