The lone GS-1 running the National Weather Service must’ve lost her Magic 8-Ball and is reduced to winging it, calling for “a slight chance of snow showers” here before 8 a.m.
As that hour has come and gone, we will not be breaking out the cross-country skis anytime soon.
Still, the weather is finally more or less seasonal for a change, so I can probably leave the lawn mower in the garage for a while, too.
Barking mad and talking out his arsehole as per usual.
His Excremency King Piggy the Sticky-Fingered will be farting higher than his ass this evening during what the legacy media insists upon calling “the State of the Union address” but will almost certainly be more along the lines of the late George Carlin’s “Complaints and Grievances,” only not funny.
I will not be watching for mental-health reasons. Not his mental health; that leaky vessel has sailed, caught fire, exploded, and sunk. My mental health. What with the tariffs and inflation and whatnot, new TVs are way too pricey for me to be shooting ours in a fit of rage.
What say we all give it a miss this time around? If the senile old toad doesn’t stroke out tonight in what he promises will be a long airing of Crimes Against Him, he might just get ferried across the Styx tomorrow by the sort of ratings you might expect from a live goat fuck on the Trinity Broadcasting Network.
“Not dead yet, I suppose?” I remarked to Herself as I set about my morning chores.
“Nope,” she replied.
Humph. And they call this a national holiday?
I haven’t checked the news yet, being only a cup and a half of joe into my day. Has His Excremency ordered up a platoon of virgins to take turns massaging his tiny wand? Good luck finding any in the immediate vicinity. Nothing but worn-out old pros with scabby knees and callused lips in that shabby, shameless army. (And yes, I’m looking at you, Lindsey Graham.) The USS Nimitz has fewer years on the job and has seen less action, too.
Speaking of elderly vessels, has Hair Füror ordered a strike group to menace the emperor penguins at Antarctica? Probably in league with the terrorist sheep of the Falkland Islands. Show ’em what a real emperor looks like! Bonus: Antarctica has coal! Clean, beautiful coal!
Mustn’t forget the terrorists right here at home, of course. The proles actually expect to be able to vote during the midterms! Ho ho. That’s easily managed. While Congress is out of town this week, just change all the locks at the Capitol, issue the appropriate executive orders — “Thank you for your service, kapow, kapow, etc.” — and achtung! 535 fewer speedbumps on the autobahn to 1933. If anyone turns up at the polls, well … ICE already has all the funding it needs. Danke, suckers.
Nevertheless I remain hopeful. Herself and I have birthdays coming up and if our good buddy Jeebus loves us we may yet be treated to the sight of a regiment of flag-pinned toadies doing it hand to hand over who will be The One to “don” (har de har har) the departed cult leader’s Depends of Domination as he rides that golden escalator down to his cardboard condo at the Lake of Fire.
A word to the unwise: Just because those drawers are yellow doesn’t mean they’re golden. Pulling them on with rubber gloves and burning eyes will be a Feat of Strength that will make Arthur pulling the sword from the stone look like Stephen Miller pulling his pud in a rental van parked across from an elementary-school playground at recess, unaware of the bomb attached to his gas tank.
Because no matter how this shit shakes out, nobody wants that dude around to sing his songs. He knows where all the bodies are buried. More than a few of them are probably in his basement freezer.
Obersturmführer Greg “Jethro” Bodino in an undated file photo.
Double-naught spy Greg “Jethro” Bodino is apparently the designated fall guy — “Sündenbock,” in the original German — for the blitzkrieg in Minneapolis whose blowback may have mussed the coiffures of Kristi “Reichstag Barbie” Noem, her chief of “staff” Corey “Simple Battery” Lewandowski, and their famously erratic patron, Orange Hitler.
Bodino, believed to have been a button man in the notorious Clampett Gang before his appointment as Obersturmführer of the ICEholen SS, reportedly has been banished to El Centro, Calif., where there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that he, his photogenic Nazi greatcoat, and the lifts in his jackboots will be in command of a meter-maid’s Cushman cart.
El Centro grannies beware — you may expect a ruthless press conference if you overstay your welcome while parked outside yarn shops, thrift stores, and doctors’ offices. Also, and too, a good pepper-spraying and perhaps a dozen or so bullet wounds. In the back, of course.
Time to rip off the Band-Aid — or, in this case, the masks.
Eliminate the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. Period. It was a bad idea from the get-go — “homeland” me bollocks, leave that fascist shit in 1933 Berlin where you found it — and it hasn’t aged at all well.
Anyone who’s serious about shrinking the federal government should start with DHS. Tear down the superstructure and let’s see whether any of its components can be salvaged.
One should go straight to the trash: Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Shitcan the whole shitshow. Anyone who hasn’t already resigned in horror is part of the problem. Anyone who still wants to work there should be encouraged to emigrate (I hear Hell isn’t half full).
Anyone still on the job? Off you go. Lt. Aldo Raine, U.S. Army (ret.) will escort you off the premises after presenting you with a small memento of your service.
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