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.
“Ve vant only piece … a piece of Venezuela, a piece of Greenland. …”
Maybe I should count my blessings.
Herself has a good job, plus a small pension from PERA set to start in a couple months. I have my Social Security. We have health insurance. The house and cars are paid for, we live frugally, and our financial adviser says we’re in fine shape.
But I just can’t stop thinking about Nazis.
Goddamnit, I fucking hate fucking Nazis. Especially the homegrown variety. We should be making them jump off bridges. And not into Venezuela or Greenland, either.
Michael O’Hanlon recently wrote a piece for Foreign Affairs that noted, accurately, and with the usual disclaimers, that when it comes to national security policy the current federal management really isn’t that much different from a number of its predecessors.
Ohhhh-kay. Thanks for the history lesson, Mickey. What say we try learning from our mistakes? Remembering the past to avoid being condemned to repeat it? The name George Santayana ring any bells in your cerebral carillon?
It’d be comical if it weren’t so serious. Which of the various Marvel timelines are we experiencing now, in which an unelected strutting fuck-bubble like Obergruppenführer Stephen Miller is running the country, giving Kent State scholarships to educate anyone who won’t do as they’re told, while his alleged supervisor whiles away the hours nailing Hobby Lobby kitsch to the White House walls, cheating at golf, and watching on TV as “Happy Hour” Hegseth punishes another two-bit dictator for stealing the boss’s dance moves?
If they were mine, I’d leave them out on the street with a handlettered sign reading, “Free.” Or maybe just park them in the shitter at Mar-a-Lago next to all those classified documents that should’ve served as his ticket to Leavenworth until Thanos snapped his fingers. Or was it Eileen Cannon? Whatever.
“Aren’t we supposed to be the good guys here?” asks Sen. Mark Kelly, D-Ariz., in an interview with Hanna Rosin at The Atlantic.
Not according to the gin pig at the top of the DoD org chart, who’d like to hang Kelly’s pelt on his office wall, no doubt in part because (a) Kegsbreath would like to see what a pair of actual testicles looks like, and (2) Kelly is making presidential noises just in case we ever have another one of those elections.
But first we have to make damn sure we have some midterms, this year. Take the House and the Senate; impeach, convict, and remove Comandante Piggy — take a seat and another fistful of Bayer’s finest, Porky, watch those cankles swell like poisoned puppies in the summer sun— and then, in 2028, reclaim the White House.
And none of this “let’s not look back” bullshit. Not this time. What’s the phrase? Oh, yeah: Never again.
Call me selfish, but I wanna get back to scribbling my little tee-hees, and I find this relentless “America über alles!” screeching a huge distraction.
Yo, Nazis. Here are your MAGA hats, there’s your bridge, what’s your hurry?
Trump announced that the new Trump-class ships will be “battleships,” but they seem to be supersize versions of the existing workhorse of the Navy, the Arleigh Burke-class destroyers. … The Navy has also announced the development of a new class of frigates. Destroyers and frigates, as the Navy knows (and as the commander in chief should know) are not battleships. Battleships are huge and powerful, and are meant to dish out — and withstand — serious punishment. Destroyers and frigates are less rugged, and perform missions that require more speed and agility than battleships can muster. But none of that matters: The goal, apparently, was to give a childlike president a new toy, named after himself, in exchange for gobs of money that the Navy will figure out how to spend later.
Jesus H. Christ on a tugboat. Swear to Dog, this egomaniac would put his name on his dingus if he could find a sharp-eyed tattoo artist used to a small canvas.
“Sorry, dude, I’ll be lucky to get a ‘T’ on this thing. Yeah, right, gold, I heard you the first three or four times.”
The only thing I want to see his name on is a tombstone, after the profligate sonofabitch chokes on a mummified Filet-O-Fish that did too much hard time in the Mickey D’s storage cabinet (bad food, unlike bad presidents, doesn’t get good lawyers on the taxpayers’ dime).
And on that glorious day I plan to be well hydrated, with a little Steve Earle on the headphones.
Thanks to His Excremency King Piggy the Sticky-fingered, Despoiler of Poorboxes and Underage Girls, it is now possible for a 71-year-old cyclist with zero upper body to grip $150 worth of groceries in the left hand — yes, the one with the two dislocated digits — while opening the hatch of the Forester with the right.
“If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.”
This is the first thing one learns in law school. Or so it seems to me, anyway.
And it dollars up on the hoof right smart, too.
You may think of Jeffrey as just another wrinkled weenie on the roller grill in the Devil’s 7-Eleven, but lawyers have been dining out on him for years, and the feast ain’t over yet.
The lawyers in Congress have demanded that his files be released, and the lawyers in the Justice Department have been (and still are) cherry-picking them with a liberal application of the black Magic Marker, which means the elected ambulance-chasers may bring obstruction-of-justice charges, contempt charges, or even impeachments, which would cause the executive shysters to hire top-shelf mouthpieces of their own, and you didn’t exactly have to be brilliant to see this bullshit coming, though you do have to foot the bill.
Merry Christmas. No, don’t unwrap that box. We’ve got the receipts, but they won’t take it back.
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