“Is your president, uh, a goer, eh? Know what I mean, know what I mean, nudge nudge, nudge nudge, know what I mean, say no more, know what I mean?”
• OK, so Live Update Guy is no more, but it is Tour time, and goddamnit, I had to work a Monty Python clip into this mess sometime.
I made that slow-cooker taco recipe last night and it was a hit.
Alas, I think the House Judiciary and Intelligence committees will be less satisfied as they lift the lids on their Crock-Pots today. Neither side is going to find anything in there that Chef Mueller hasn’t served them before.
And it’s not going to taste any better after Ginger Hitler pisses in it.
“It is all in The Report. That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
The Mad Dog raises his Grecian urn in a toast to Hunter S. Thompson and John Keats.
Bob Mueller tosses the hot potato to Congress, which will probably … oh, hell, I don’t know. Freedom Fries, anyone?
The best take on special counsel Robert Mueller’s report so far comes from Kevin Drum at MoJo, who writes: “The truth is that we barely know anything more today than we did a week ago. It’s likely there’s a reason for that.”
Runner-up is from Charlie Pierce, who observes: “In fact, the basic overriding result of [Attorney General William] Barr’s summary is that the whole matter now has been dumped into the laps of a divided and hyper-partisan Congress in such a way as to guarantee that the Congress will be more divided and more hyper-partisan than ever before. The Democratic House will hold hearings and the Republican Senate will yell about Hillary Clinton. The Internet will be indiscriminately insane for the foreseeable future.”
For what it’s worth, my own uneducated guess is that our keepers have decided that “government of the people, by the people, for the people” is the people’s problem. We shit the bed, we do the laundry. No indictment, no impeachment, and open a window, f’chrissakes. It stinks to high heaven in here.
Absent an abrupt change of course based on the Mueller report, the Donks seem to be betting that they can clean Il Douche’s clock in the 2020 election, which sounds an awful lot like drawing to an inside straight. Or maybe it’s more like the kind of lame-ass, no-balls, break-even poker playing that sends you home neither richer nor poorer while the big boys take all the pots.
Are they still hunting, Elmer Fuddlike, for that mythical Moderate Republican, hoping they can bag enough of these fabled centrist unicorns — without hurting the MAGA dummies’ fee-fees — to take the White House and the Senate, pad their edge in the House, and govern free of interference from the Flying Monkey Caucus?
Fuck me running. I wish I had some magic beans to sell these rubes. I could use a more reliable income stream. This hand looks more like a foot.
In the meantime, we all could use some more information. There’s an election coming up, or so we hope. Release the damn report, shitheels. We paid for it, and in more ways than one, too. It’s ours.
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