… is not over.
It wasn’t over on Aug. 9, 1974, when Gerald R. Ford trotted out that boogeyman-be-gone bullshit upon assuming the presidency vacated by Richard M. Nixon, a rat fleeing the ship of state he did his best to sink.
And Ford went on to be even more stunningly full of shit when he added:
Our Constitution works; our great Republic is a government of laws and not of men. Here the people rule.
A month later, Ford finally achieved escape-velocity, bullshit-wise, when he granted “a full, free and absolute pardon” to his predecessor, a man whom Hunter S. Thompson called “so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning.”
Some of us thought that was as bad as it was ever going to get.
Ho, ho, as the Good Doktor would say. We were wrong.
We have elevated some remarkably stupid, ineffectual, and/or venal hombres to the presidency since then. Not Ford, though. Nobody voted him into the gig, but he certainly got voted out in ’76 when the nation decided, well, fuck it, they’d rather have a Georgia peanut farmer in the Oval Office than the knucklehead who waved Tricky Dicky off to San Clemency with nothing but his pension and related benefits to keep him warm in retirement.
And even now, when we appear to have reached our political nadir, the creaky national machinery in the tiny palsied handsies of a senile, shambling, burger-gobbling narcoleptic, a convicted felon with a mean streak a mile wide and an unquenchable thirst for wealth, power, and vengeance, who apparently has a joy buzzer installed in his diapers so an aide can shock him awake, however briefly, to unleash a torrent of non sequiturs to be dutifully chronicled, analyzed, and excreted by the press corpse, well … I’m not about to tell you that this is as bad as it’s ever going to get.
Pogo — himself a candidate for the presidency in 1952 and ’56 — hit the nail on the head back in 1971, when Tricky Dicky was still kneewalking drunk around the White House, arguing with the paintings and looking for an exit that didn’t involve a perp walk in cuffs. Had we insisted upon it, we might have been spared some of what was to come.
But we didn’t. And so it goes.
“We have met the enemy and he is us,” said Pogo. Truer words, etc.
Mad Blog Media 
I sent Senator Kelly a message via his government website saying, in short, I’m sorry for them going after you and IMPEACH HIM NOW. All caps in the message as in this comment. So, I’m sure that message is now in the DOGE Grok AI data base so they can track me down after the coup. Hey grok, go pound sand up your artificial ass.
These miserable fucks have just about cost me my sweet girlish laughter.
I asked my old buddy Jeebus if he could arrange a massive stroke, on live TV, but I’m starting to wonder whether he thought I wanted the stroke for me.
If a camera crew shows up, I’ll let you know.
Nah, just remember what Louden Wainwright II sang in “The Shit Song.”
“Life’s a job you’re fired from. unless, of course, you quit.”
This shit will end, just not soon enough. Can we recover from the damage done? It will take a long time. Meanwhile, stay liquid my friends. And, I ain’t talking about water.