I love dogs. I didn’t used to. My wife had dogs when we started dating, and I came to love the little monsters. Now it’s hard to imagine a life without a furry friend/fiend. So when I found out dogs would be returning to the White House after a four-year hiatus, I was overjoyed.
Hey, I get it. If I’d tried to overthrow the legitimate government of the United States, I probably wouldn’t want to be tried in Washington, D.C., either. Because, you know, Washington residents tend to frown on such hijinks.
You have to hand it to MyPillow Guy Mike Lindell. When life hands him lemons, he eats them so fast they become deadly choking hazards. His latest nonsense? He’s launching a new social media platform to compete with YouTube and Twitter, which for some reason no longer allow videos and tweets that could lead to the attempted violent overthrow of the U.S. government.
Lindell is already being sued by Dominion Voting Systems for $1.
In a new PSA featuring every (adult) former president, the COVID-19 vaccine takes center stage. The message: Don’t be a dick. Get the vaccine. Or at least that was my takeaway.
Only one ex-president did not participate, indicating (again) that Donald Trump needs more than just a psychiatrist. He needs someone to take his brain apart like an old transistor radio and cobble it back together with Tinker Toys, airplane glue, and gum. Because that shit’s broken, yo.
In a new PSA featuring every (adult) former president, the COVID-19 vaccine takes center stage. The message: Don’t be a dick. Get the vaccine. Or at least that was my takeaway.
Only one ex-president did not participate, indicating (again) that Donald Trump needs more than just a psychiatrist. He needs someone to take his brain apart like an old transistor radio and cobble it back together with Tinker Toys, airplane glue, and gum. Because that shit’s broken, yo.
This is why you don’t take medical advice from failed meat-mongers who stare directly into the sun. As he was preparing to have his ass handed to him by Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.
Though my spot on the introversion spectrum lies somewhere between Kleenex box-wearing Howard Hughes and urine-collecting Howard Hughes (and as I continue to age, I’m on a bullet train to raw-fish-eating Gollum), I still usually get sick in the winter at least once.
In the past, while grocery shopping or taking in a matinee movie, I’d occasionally run into someone I know.
Donald Trump’s lawyers argued for years that he couldn’t be sued because he was kinda-sorta president or something. Apparently you don’t actually have to do the job to retain the title. It’s like if you were the curly fry guy at Arby’s and all you did all day was eat the customers’ orders. You’re technically still the fry guy, but all you’re really doing is getting in the way of other people’s lunch.
The CEO of Dominion Voting Systems—which is either a nondescript electronic voting company or a Borg-like collection of sentient machines powered by Hugo Chavez’s ghost, depending on whom you ask—is clearly done playing games. But what he’s not done doing is suing the pants off his company’s detractors. (Not literally, of course. I mean, the company sued Rudy Giuliani, and the one thing you want to leave that guy with is pants.
Remember back in the olden days when Republicans were consistently willing to set aside petty partisanship and perpetual grievance in order to ensure that only the most qualified individuals were given top government posts?
Yeah, me neither.
Colorado Rep. Lauren Boebert needs more attention.
First, Marjorie Taylor Greene stole her thunder by trotting out the Jewish space lasers while Boebert was still plunging her hands into the soft, wet clay of garden-variety QAnon conspiracies.
Then Ted Cruz decided to overshadow them both with the single worst travel decision since the Donner Party turned down their complimentary peanuts and Biscoff cookies to save room for the hot meal that was coming later.
How did I miss this?
In a recent column on the intractable assholery of conservative Republicans, The Plum Line’s Greg Sargent noted a conversation that the ambulatory Ed Gein lamp known as Steve Bannon recently had with a Boston audience.
Ted Cruz and I share exactly two things in common. We both convert oxygen to carbon dioxide and we both love The Princess Bride. I’m not happy about it, and more than once it’s forced me to question my life choices. If I share that with Cruz, what else might we have in common? Did my dad help kill JFK, too? I shudder to think.
I get it. The media have a job to do. And for the first time in four years, the government doesn’t have a cabinet-level Department of Gaslighting.
But this is a question this reporter already knows the answer to, right?
Right?
I believe this is AP White House correspondent Zeke Miller, but he’s wearing a mask, so I don’t know for sure. For all I know this is what Carrot Top looks like when he’s not on stage.
Yertle the Goddamn Fucking Disgrace (apologies to Dr. Seuss) doesn’t seem to think helping out unemployed workers and others screwed sideways by the coronavirus pandemic—and Donald Trump’s feckless, floundering response to it—is an urgent matter. At least not as urgent as, say, forcing barmy right-wing justices on us, our children, and/or our still-frozen embryo clones.