‘Wicked, tricksy, false!’

~ Patrick O'Grady
“I’m just peachy, really. Tip-top, actually. Never better. Back at the ol’ desk any day now.”

Well, we seem to have blown right past the question of whether Bugsy Sméagol has The Plague and are now deep into the slimy weeds of lies surrounding just how bad his case might be, O yes, my precious.

This, oddly, may be the one thing about this “presidency” that is not unique, as Chazbo Pierce points out in his weekly letter from The Shebeen (subscription required).

Diseases have croaked as many presidents as have bullets (four apiece). And plenty of administrations have concealed the fact that the president was teetering on the edge of eternity, or at least a couple tacos short of a combo plate.

Now instead of trotting out a platoon of generals or economists to give us the old hocus, and also the pocus, Bugsy’s handlers send us a squad of Walter Reed whitecoats to add their spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, i.e., what The New York Times calls “conflicting accounts” of his condition.

Over at Mother Jones, Kevin Drum draws our attention to the sociopath behind the curtain, giving us the timeline as he sees it and calling the conduct of Bugsy and his goons “reckless beyond belief.”

I find it entirely believable, but hey, let’s agree to disagree.

This is a cult of personality we’ve been dealing with since Bugsy surfed the golden escalator into the GOP presidential pissing match, in which he proved to be the biggest dick.

You don’t get stand-up guys in a cult. What you get is scabby-kneed old hoors with calluses on the insides of their mouths. Bloated ticks sporting American-flag lapel pins. The occasional professional rat who knows the fastest way off a sinking ship and through a publisher’s office into the talk-show green rooms.

Nobody had the stones to get a hammerlock on Hitler, Stalin, or Mao, either, mostly because those gentlemen would have had them ground into puppy treats for the guard dogs.

This guy may kill a few of his punks too. Not because they stood up to him, but because they bowed down to him, with their faces hanging out in his toxic wind.

Until and unless The Plague gets them, the only thing these spineless hooters are scared of is missing out on their sip from the gravy boat as it goes around The Big Table.

27 thoughts on “‘Wicked, tricksy, false!’”

  2. This is one of your best Thanks Patrick! Chris Murphy

    From: Mad Blog Media <comment-reply@wordpress.com> Reply-To: Mad Blog Media <comment+2ix644fyz2hu1itc2uz_wn@comment.wordpress.com> Date: Sunday, October 4, 2020 at 6:38 AM To: “chrism@modestoview.com” <chrism@modestoview.com> Subject: [New post] ‘Wicked, tricksy, false!’

    Patrick O’Grady posted: ” Well, we seem to have blown right past the question of whether Bugsy Sméagol has The Plague and are now deep into the slimy weeds of lies surrounding just how bad his case might be, O yes, my precious. This, oddly, may be the one thing about this “pres”

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  3. Welp, I know two things this morning. (1) I won’t get the same level of care when I come down with the plague. (2) We (all of us mericans) will be facing a monumental constitutional crisis in the very near future.

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  4. So, the dumpster has not had a fever since Friday morning according to his doc at Walter Reed. He just got there Friday! Did he have a fever Thursday night when he tweeted from the “throne” that he had the covid? Do I think the others at the Saturday wing ding for mrs. justice right wing who came up positive have the bug? Yea, it was probably a super spreader event. Do I think the dumpster has it, no. Distract, deceive, and divide is what’s going on here. And the dumpster is writing the script in real time.

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    1. Don’t waste any time trying to figure out the timeline. It changes every 15 minutes, and unless you’re part Trafalmadorian, you just can’t keep up.

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    1. See, this is the thing: You just can’t believe anything you see/hear/read from this lot, unless you’ve had your own eyes on it. And maybe not even then.

      (“Right, sun sets in the west. Seen it. OK, now, about this whole Bug thing. …”)

      Forget a grain; there ain’t enough salt in the ocean.

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    2. Thanks Hurben. That doesn’t surprise me. What surprises me is that he listed it on the financial disclosure form. The dumpster says, “I have this thing and it’s fucking golden.”

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    1. I just re-read the book for the umpty-umpth time. There’s another movie coming out, y’know. That first one was an appalling stinkeroo despite being fairly buried in talent.

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    1. Aw, that’s a bummer. Nicole Formosa was the honch’ over to there. She’s an ex-BRAINiac. And of course Mike “Grimy Handshake” Ferrentino has been a mainstay since Heck was a pup.

      Bike was about the experience, not the latest shiny object. Or it was. I don’t know what it became after the Suits fixed their claws into it. I guess that makes me part of the problem.

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      1. Judging from its home page, their owners, American Media**, seems to be another glitzy bullshit outlet that will kick you to the curb at the first inkling that the next quarterly statement isn’t making the Vulture Capitalists rich. They kicked these folks to the curb with barely time enough to take one last piss.

        **https://www.americanmediainc.com/about-us/overview

        I wish Cushionbury, Padraig, Robot et al a lot of luck. They seem to be writing about the experience rather than the latest toy. But that means they have to count on the generosity of strangers. Well, we are all pretty strange here.

        I might therefore, and so on, and so for, have to write yet another check. I recently subscribed to The Dispatch, which is where David French and Jonah Goldberg publish after leaving their safe zone at one of those conservative news outlets. They too took it off the dole of advertisers and just print what they want. Since those two (and a few of their colleagues) seem to be some of only conservatives that I think still have a brain between their ears, I send them some dead presidents (along with some to the Grey Lady, Abq Journal, Fanta Se New Mexican, New Yorker, Bicycling via the LAB, and Adventure Cycling). And of course PBS and our public radio affiliates.

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      2. Blogging and/or doing newsletters for subscriptions/donations rather than shoveling away for The Man seems to be an actual Thing these days. It’s kind of like getting your TV a la carte instead of via one huge squirt through Xfinity’s pipe.

        Makes sense to me. I never gave a shit about all those sports channels or “lifestyle” pages. But I would support a Ferrentino same as I do Charlie Pierce.

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        1. Back when we had cable or satellite, we got hundreds of shit channels we never watched in order to get a half dozen we actually wanted. And of course to get a couple more quality channels, you had to up the fee to get two hundred more ShitWatcher Shows.

          We finally killed all of that and put in the AppleBox, high speed Innertubes, and as you say, get TV and movies a la carte. It does make sense.

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    1. This guy kills me.

      Badaboom, badabing! I’ll be here all week, folks! (cough) Don’t forget to (hack, choke), tip your … your serv … gaaahhhhhhhhggghgllph. …

      (thump).

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    1. His followers on Fox were all, Our Dear Leader!
      But he was looking out onto a dark empty field with a helicopter. You could see the gears in his noggin slowing down, trying to figure out what to emote to the audience that wasn’t there. “Grips hands and cheer like the Lollipop Guild? No, no one’s clapping. Thumps up? No, I can barely breathe, that might kill me.”

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    2. Folks said he looked like he was gasping. I dunnoh, maybe. But to me he looked like he had farted, it felt a little too wet to just be a fart, and he was checking the air, snake-like, to try to confirm.

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