Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: anthony scaramucci

Maggie Haberman Is Still Getting Late-Night Calls


“Wha? Why? What time is it? Hello?”


“Ah, fuck.”


“It’s your boy, Mooch!”

“I heard the theme music.”

“You see me on Colbert tonight? Fuckin’ killed that shit. Got it up on the big screen now. Mamalucha! I look good.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I’d fuck me.”

“I take it you’re getting over your divorce.”

“Pssh. Not even in my rearview anymore. Mooch is moving on. And moving out. You like Billy Joel?”

“I work for the New York Times. Of course I like Billy Joel.”

“Next time he comes around, we’ll go together.”


“I get tickets in the luxury boxes, so I can go in the back and get a bit of skull You know: in case he starts playing any new stuff.”


“My dick goes insane in the mountains of mouthness.”

“I have absolutely no idea–”

“Some slurp for my wontons.”

“What does any of this have to do with Billy Joel?”

“I know him, y’know.”

“Of course you do.”

“One time out in the Hamptons, me and Billy are driving around late at night. Mercedes, the Brabus, very classy. We’re gettin’ high, I’m helpin’ him with lyrics, it’s a great night.”


“And Billy looks at me and says, ‘Watch this, Mooch.’ And he drives the car right the fuck into a tree.”


“And then, with a superhuman strength he had heretofore not displayed in my presence, he pulled my body over to the driver’s side as he got out. ‘When the cops come? If you mention my name, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.’ This is what he said! ‘I’m Billy fuckin’ Joel, motherfucker.’ And then he kissed me on the mouth and ran into the woods.”

“None of this happened.”

“Greatest night of my life.”

“Why are you calling me?”


“Don’t call me that.”

“–I genuinely wanted to hear your opinion on my Colbert spot. I value your insight as a reporter and as a writer.”


“Sure, why not.”

“You’re coked up and bored with talking to the hookers?”

“Bingo bongo bango. You’re sharp.”

“I’ve been told.”

“You did watch, right?”

“Yes, I watched.”

“I knew it. You’re sweet on me. You’re drunk off Mooch Hooch.”

“I am a fan of Stephen Colbert.”

“Between you and me? Pretty sure he’s a fag.”

“Stop that.”

“I got a vibe off him.”

“Maybe he was just reflecting your energy, ever think about that?”

“Ayyoh! Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“Little girl?”

“The Mooch ain’t no finocchio. I eat more pussy than the Koreans.”

“Wow. Sexist and racist at once.”

“Mooch killed that shit so hard. Already blowing up. Got an offer from a teevee station to do a talk show.”

“Russia Today?”

“Who leaked that!? Was it Bannon?”

“I guessed.”

“That fat fuck Bannon. I give him this!”


“And this!”


“That’s what I give Steve Bannon.”

“You do know we’re on the phone, right?”

“You know what he always reminded me of? Fight Club.”

Fight Club? Everybody was in shape in that movie. Wait. Meatloaf?”

“Nah. You remember when Brad Pitt and the other guy steal the fat to make soap? And they’re going over the fence with the barbed wire and one of the bags gets caught and starts leaking? That’s what Bannon reminds me of. That bag of human fat draped over barbed wire and pouring grease and shit onto the world.”

“Not a bad analogy.”

“You think I should be on Dancing with the Stars?”

“Have they called?”

“They’re gonna.”

“You should.”

“Gotta keep the face out there. Besides, the Mooch got moves. Me and my friends used to go down to this disco in Queens every Saturday night.”

“I already know where this is going.”

“And then we raped a chick and my buddy jumped off a bridge. It’s honestly fucked-up story if you think about it.”

“I’m hanging up the phone.”

“Why do we still say ‘hang up?’ Isn’t that weird?”

“Good night, Mooch.”

“Wait, wait. So you really thought I did good?”

“You were your usual charming self.”

“I gotta be me.”

“Even when you shouldn’t.”

“Sure you don’t wanna come over?”


“I got ecstasy.”


A Partial Transcript Of Today’s State Department Briefing, 8/9/17

“Good morning, everyone. My name’s Heather Nauert. I used to co-host Fox & Friends, and now I’m the spokesperson for the State Department because 2017 is a nightmare from which we cannot wake. Everyone all set? Let’s get this started. Bob?”

“Heather, the president said today that North Korea would face ‘fire and fury’ if it kept threatening us.”

“You’re taking President Trump out of context.”

“How so?”

“You didn’t do the hand thing.”

“Heather, what did the president mean?”

“It means he’s not a guff-taker, unlike some former presidents I can name who are black. Speaking of black presidents, if Obama didn’t want President Trump to start a war with North Korea, then why didn’t he start a war with North Korea? Ever ask yourself that, Bob?”

“I have not asked myself that question, no.”

“There you go. Gillian?”

“Heather, the president sent out a tweet saying that he ‘modernized and updated’ our nuclear arsenal. What did that mean?”

“It means what he said.”

“But it’s not true.”

“Then it was sarcasm.”

“So what you’re saying is that the President of the United States is tweeting out jokes about the nuclear weapons?”

“Weren’t you listening to me about 2017 being a nightmare? Jack?”

“Heather, are there any scenarios including nuclear first-strikes on the table?”

“Ugh. Nukes, nukes, nukes. You guys are boring.”


“I’d really love to talk about Mexico and all of its rapists.”

“Heather, the president is waving his ICBMs around like a flasher in the park and you’re surprised we want to ask you about it?”

“What about the 33,000 ICBMs that Hillary Clinton deleted?”


“Exactly. Exactly, Jack. Sharon?”

“Heather, the president is threatening fire and fury, but the Secretary of State just claimed that the North Korean situation has not changed.”


“Those two statements contradict one another.”

“Well, one of them will turn out to be true. Let’s give it a week or two and them circle back to your question.”


“Heather, Kim Jung-Un just sent out a tweet showing himself making love to what looks like a pumpkin with the president’s face on it.”

“Oh, that won’t go well.”

“Will the president…what’s that sound?”


“Aaaaaaay! The Mooch is back! Heather, take five. I got this.”


“That’s for you.”


“Now, get. This is man’s work, honey. Hey, Sharon! You get that dick pic I sent you?”

“I did, Mr. Scaramucci.”


“Do you even work here any–”

“Listen up, candytits. I’m here to report the real position of the Trump Administration. You got your cameras on?”


“Nice. Okay. Kim Jong-Un, you softboy cockslurper, I will fuck the undersides of your swaying man-boobs if you say another word about that beautiful, patriotic man I’m so proud to call the greatest president ever. You even understand how many nukes we got? OO-fah, so many. You can’t even count ’em. They’re like giant dicks, Kimmy Gibbler. And we’re gonna fuck you. They’re not aimed at Pingpong or Poopoo or whatever you call that ratshit city of yours. Nuh-uh. They’re pointed at your asshole, Kim. Uncle Sam’s gonna turn you out, bitch. Uncle Sam’s gonna be your daddy. You call The Mooch daddy now.”

“Mr. Scaramucci.”


“Is this really what’s passing for diplomacy nowadays?”

“Sharon, this is personal.”


“I’m a dog-lover. Let’s leave it at that.”


“It’s Korean barbecue time.”


“There he is!”

“Mooch out!”

A Good Night Call From The Mooch


“Wha? Huh? Fuck. Fuck, it can’t be him. Yeah?”


“Maggie Haberman? You’re on with The Mooch.”


“Acosta blocked my number.”


“I asked him why Puerto Ricans like stealing hubcaps so much.”

“Answer me honestly: did you escape from a summer stock production of Guys and Dolls?”


“Don’t call me that.”

“–you are speaking to a made man. Mooch popped his cherry!”


“Busted my first nut? Killed my first bum? Whatever metaphor you wanna use. Everything’s coming up Mooch.”

“Um, Mooch?”


“You have had the worst week of anyone since Japan in August of ’45. Your wife left you, you humiliated yourself in front of the entire country, and then you got fired. One week! Why are you happy?”

“See, this is why you didn’t go to Harvard Law School. You don’t see the big picture, which is what the law is all about.”

“Nope. The opposite. Law is about the details.”

“Maggie, I didn’t get divorced; I got free. And I didn’t get fired; I got fuckin’ famous. This is America, honey, and if I can stay out of jail for the next few years, I’m gonna be a rich fuckin’ man.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I was too much of an asshole for Donald Trump. I am now the King of the Dickheads. Every prick, jackoff, double-parker, and high school football coach in the country is gonna line up to suck my waxed balls.”


“You can see your face in ’em. I’d like to see your face in ’em.”

“Was this your plan all along?”

“I haven’t had a plan in years.”

“Sounds accurate.”

“The Mooch hopped on the Trump Train at the station, and now he’s gettin’ off at the bank. WOO-WOO. That was the whistle.”

“I got it. So tell me how the end happened.”

“You remember how I told you I was gonna fuck Kelly?”


“He’s bigger than he looks in pictures.”

“He is.”

“Picked me up and hurled me out of the Oval Office. I was over his head. It was like when Rocky fought Thunderlips in the third one. Hey, Baberman.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rocky III or Rocky IV?”

“I don’t know.”

“Both have their pros and cons. Always nice to see a Commie get his ass kicked, but the Rocky movies are about Rocky beating up moolies.”

“Jesus, Mooch.”

“That’s the promise of the movie! Ginzo’s gonna beat up a moolie!”

“Stop saying that!”

“Am I revvin’ your engine?”

“What? No.”

“Little bit.”


“Little bit.”

“Stop doing your DeNiro impression. Why am I even still talking to you? You don’t work in the White House anymore.”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Yeah, okay, I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait. Before you go, just lemme say one thing.”


“Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep
He hath awakened from the dream of life
‘Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit’s knife
Invulnerable nothings. — We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.”

“What is happening here?”

“The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die,
If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
Follow where all is fled!”

“Was that Shelley?”

“Tell me your panties aren’t a swimming pool right now.”

“Good bye, Mooch.”

“How about ‘so long?'”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess. Never know what’s gonna happen. So long.”

“How about anal?”


Audition Night At The White House

“Mr. President, we have a number of candidates lined up to be your next Communications Director.”

“Communicating, very important. My White House has been the most transparent ever. Couldn’t see through Obama at all because he was black. Many people say this, General Kelly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I love when you stand up straight like a soldier.”

“I’m a Marine, sir.”

“Marine, soldier, what’s the difference?”

“Let’s just get started.”

“Good, right, yes, great. Tucker Carlson is on in fifteen minutes. Time to watch Tucker.”

“Send in the first candidate.”


“Oy, they said you were a great orange tit, but I thought they was exaggerating.”

“Who the hell is this foreign skeleton?”

“Sir, this is Sam Cutler. He has a great deal of experience with, um, situations like ours.”

“‘E’s right, Donny. I’ve been at the ‘elm for disasters throughout the decades, I ‘ave.”

“Disaster? This White House is a well-oiled machine, the most oiled. No one’s ever seen this much oil.”

“Aye, me son. An’ the Titanic was greased up, as well.”

“Get Keith Richards’ grandfather out of here, General!”



“Not a win, General! Sad and weak! If this is the best you can do, I’m calling the Mooch back in.”

“That was a warm-up , sir.”

“I never need to warm-up. Stretches, whatever. Never needed to. I’m like a mountain lion.”

“Yes, sir. Next candidate, please!”


“Ugh. What the hell is that? Terrible looking. Trenchcoat and a beret?”


“General, what the hell is this?”

“The ghost of Sam Kinison, sir.”


“Get it the fuck out of here! Call the Ghostbusters! The old ones, not the ugly broads.”


“Very, very bad choices, General! I can’t make America great with this kind of staff.”

“Well, sir, this is what answered the want-ad.”

“Bottom of the barrel, General.”

“We dug through the barrel weeks ago, sir. We’re getting close to the bedrock. I think you’ll like this next one, though.”

“Hot chick?”

“No, sir.”

“Thin ice, Kelly.”



“Mr. President! You are the strongest leader America’s ever seen, and there is NO Russia.”

“I like this, good, yes, good.”

“This is plot by Zionists and the Western Media to make us look foolish.”

“Excellent, wonderful, beautiful.”

“By the sword of Allah, we will kill our enemies.”

“I liked the second half of that.”

“And there are no tanks at all in Baghdad.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. President, do you know Baghdad Bob?”

“Uh-huh. General, c’mere.”


“Whisper whisper whisper Muslim?”

“Whisper whisper whisper yes.”


“Your eyes look like the testicles of an ugly camel.”

“Go back to Iran!”

“Iraq, you dumbass.”


“General, this is not good. Not good! Very weak and disgusting candidates so far. Why don’t we call that tall lady?”

“Tall lady, sir?”

“The one with the nose who you can’t tell if she’s hot or not.”

“Are you talking about C.J. Cregg, sir?”

“I don’t learn women’s names.”

“I’ll see if she’s free, sir. I…huh. I thought we were done, but we have one more applicant.”




“I like this guy already, General.”


“Very handsome and confident. What’s your name, son?”

“What’s my name? My name? You want to know my name? Uhhhh…it’s…uh…Alberto…Poncharelli.”

“Strong name. Lends itself to a fun nickname. Very, very good.”

“Mr. President, you who are so powerful and wise. I will serve you so well. I will crush your enemies and hear the lactations of their women. I will stick my dick in the lying, fake, lying New York Times, and then I’ll take pictures of their sticky bodies to show you for your amusement.”

“General, I love this guy.”

“Sir, this is–”

“When can you start, Ponch?”

“I can start right now.”

“The best! Wonderful, beautiful, I make great choices. See, General! Clean slate!”


Another Late Night Call From The Mooch


“Wha? Yeah?”


“Haberman, you minx.”


“You up? I could come over there.”

“No, thank you.”

“Give you the Mooch Smooch.”

“Absolutely not.”

“The Mooch eats ass. Just so you know what’s on the menu.”

“Mr. Scaramucci–”


“–it’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“Fuck that shit. It’s cocaine o’clock. Listen, you got a sec? I wanna talk some shit about this Kelly prick.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Right off the bat: I’m gonna stick my cock in him. First metaphorically, and then literally. I’m gonna add insult to injury. Hold him down on the Resolute Desk and I’m gonna shoot my greasy load on his medals. Mister big-shot general. President Trump’s impressed by generals, but I ran a hedge fund. I could’ve been a general. Running a hedge fund is just like being a general.”

“It’s not at all.”

“I fucked Kellyanne Conway last night.”


“Map room. I gave it to Conway this way; I gave it to Conway that way; I gave it to Conway with a wiffleball bat.”


“Nah, I’m fuckin’ with ya. I fucked her, but not with the wiffleball bat. I was quoting the Beasties. You like the Beasties? You go to concerts? We should go to a show.”

“Get back to Kellyanne Conway.”

“Haberman, I gotta tell ya: my dick did not know that woman had four kids.”


“Like a glove. Not even a winter glove: a surgical glove. I think she’s doing Kegel’s exercises when she goes on CNN or something. Oofah, I could barely get in there. Used President Trump’s bronzer for lube.”

“Are you sure you want to be telling me this?”

“Here’s the plan for Mooch: I’m gonna snake Titty-face away from Kush.”

“Good plan.”

“Gonna make Trump my daddy.”

“You already kinda have.”

“But it’s not official. I must put a male child in Blondey.”

“Didn’t you just have a child two days ago?”

“Yeah, I sent a text.”

“I heard.”

“Haberman, you’re not seeing this from my perspective. That baby can’t do anything for me. This one I’m gonna stick in President Trump’s daughter can.”


“Seriously, though, hot nips. Whatchoo doing right now?”

“Hanging up and going to sleep.”

“C’mon, give the Mooch some cooch.”

“Holy shit, no.”

“Fine. Just talk me off.”


Ryan Lizza Receives Another Late Night Phone Call


“Huh? Yeah. Yeah? Who’s this? Jesus, it’s three in the morning.”


“Lizbian? You asleep, you little bitch? It’s your boy, The Mooch.”

“Is this gonna be a regular thing?”

“You see me whack Rinky-dink? I walked right up to him and POW the blood got all over my Harvard Law School suit. President Trump let me do it. We were in the office on Air Force One. President was laughing his ass off. Egging me on to make him cry.”

“Did he?”

“Fuhgetaboutit. Fuckin’ waterworks. Scabby little lip started trembling. Dude, my cock was so fuckin’ hard.”


“Air Force One got parachutes, y’know. I wanted to throw him out of the plane, but President Trump showed kindness. He is so kind. Oh, hey, don’t tell anyone I told you, but Jeff Sessions is next.”


“You know he has black kids?”

“Really? I mean: it makes sense, but I didn’t know that.”

“Five or six. Wouldn’t know it, but the man’s got a cock on him. Dude, Rinky-dink deflated. He fuckin’ deflated in front of me. Like a stabbed blimp with a weak chin. The Mooch is shakin’ things up!”

“You certainly are. Oh, hey, I’m sorry to hear about your wife filing for divorce.”

“Fuck her.”

“She’s the mother of your children.”

“Fuck them, too.”


“President Trump is my family now. Ah, marone! I shoulda gave Lumpy a Stone Cold Stunner. How funny would that’ve been?”

“Not funny at all.”

“Would’ve been to the president.”


“Here’s what The Mooch does: plugs up holes. White House is leaking? I’m plugging that hole. You cross the president and you got an asshole? I’m plugging that hole. You’re a hardbody intern with a pussy, or a mouth, or an asshole? I’m plugging all those holes.”

“You know I’m a reporter, right?’

“Dude, tell me who to fire next.”


“Pick a name that isn’t Trump or Kushner. Fuck it, who gives a shit, pick a name.”

“Mr. Scaramucci.”

“The Mooch!”

“I don’t want to pick a name for you to fire.”

“How about a cabinet member? Christ, I’d love to take down that walkin’ ballsack from Texas. What’s his name? The pillhead.”

“Rick Perry.”

“Done. He’s gone.”

“I didn’t tell you to fire Rick Perry.”

“No matter what time of day it is, President Trump smells wonderful.”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“You got somebody in that bed with you, Lizbian? What’s his name? Ahhhh, I gotchoo. I’m kidding, you’re not a fag, fag.”

“Good night.”

“Dude, I know an after-hours spot.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“You know Katy Tur’s number?”


A Partial Transcript Of CNN’s State Of The Union, 7/23/17

“Was that another reverse mortgage commercial? How many of them do we–”

“We are?”

“Good morning, it’s Sunday and this is State of the Union. I’m Jake Tapper, and my first guest is the new White House Communications Director, financier Anthony Scaramucci.”


“Yo, Tippy-Tap! How’s it hanging?”

“I’m not discussing that, Mr. Scaramucci.”

“Call me Mooch.”

“No. Mr. Scaramucci, the president tweeted out something about having complete pardon power. Is he considering pardoning anyone? And if so, whom?”

“President Trump considers a lot of things. His mind is what you call ferocious. Back when I was at Harvard Law School, we would have called him a polymath. People who didn’t go to Harvard Law School would probably call him a Renaissance man.”


“I went to Harvard Law School.”

“You’ve mentioned. But you didn’t answer my question. Why is the president discussing pardons six months into his term?”

“The president is not discussing pardons.”

“He tweeted about it.”

“Tweeting is not discussing, Tippy-Tap. You’d know that if you had gone to Harvard Law School.”

“Mr. Scaramucci–”


“–the fact is that the president has been reported by numerous sources as asking about his pardon power. Why is that?”

“It’s because he cares.”

“Cares about what?”


“Would you like to explain that?”


“Does someone need pardoning, sir?”

“If we’re talking honestly here, I probably do. Never spent much time in Washington before. Oofah, it’s all interns here. I been giving out herpes left and right.”

“Mr. Scaramucci, please stay on topic.”

“You see Huckleberry yesterday? She looks better, right? I brought down a homo from New York to fix her up. And, hey: she’s a real fixer-upper.”


“Good bones. Well, big bones.”


“Got a little bit of mascara on the sloppy eyeball. Million times better.”


“I mean, don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t fuck her with your pussy.”

“I don’t have a…Mr. Scaramucci, what does the president think about the Congress moving to restrict his ability to remove the sanctions on Russia?”

“There’s no sanctions.”

“Yes, there are.”

“There’s no Russia, so how could there be sanctions? BOOM, Tippy-Tap. You just got Mooched!”

“We need to go to commercial.”

“Another one of those reverse mortgage ads?”


“Mooch out!”

Anthony Scaramucci Introduces Himself To The White House Press Corps

“…and that’s why Ah’m not gettin’ inta that with you, Glenn. President Trump is not firing Attorney General Sessions at the moment.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah. To clarify: the president currently has no plans to fire AG Sessions?”

“No. President Trump is not actively at this instant engaged in the firing of the AG. Five minutes from now is gonna have t’ answer for isself.”



“Um, they didn’t tell me that you’d be–”

“How you doin’, Huckleberry.”


“The Mooch is takin’ over! You hop off the stick and lemme get my face time. Big Guy’s watching. Hey, Big Guy! Okay, who we got here? Haberman you’re lookin’ good, sweetie. Very nice. I’m a married man, but I cheat on my wife. Mooch wants that cooch.”

“Excuse me? How dare–”

“Acosta! Hey, baby! You wanna come up here and get a selfie with the Mooch? C’mere, you vain bastard. Get up here. C’mon, selfie with the Mooch.”

“I think that would be inappropriate, Mr. Scaramucci.”

“Fuck it, I’m comin’ to you.”


“Tweet that shit out, A-Train. You’re gonna break the internet. Okay, we made nice, we’re all friends now. Listen up, youse are all gonna have to adjust your attitudes. Mooch ain’t Spicer. Oh, yeah: Spicer got fired. He’s gonna tell ya he quit, but he’s just a lump of cottage cheese in a suit. I hope he makes some money with his little book he’s gonna write. Who wants to guess how much I’m worth? Jim, guess how much I’m worth.”

“I’d rather not.”

“C’mon, guess.”


“Tell ya what: you guess my net worth within a hundred dollars without going over, and I’ll buy you a BMW.”

“This is not normal.”

“Jim, you like strip clubs? You guess how much I’m worth and I’ll buy you a strip club.”

“Can we please get back to reality?”

“That bus left the station months ago, buddy. Okay, enough about me. You all know the Mooch. Now lemme talk about Donald Trump. Marone! I love that man. To me, he’s better than George Washington. Much hotter wife, for one thing. He’s got such love for America, and so do I. Donald Trump would fight a friggin’ bear for America. Not one of those friendly show-biz bears, either. He would wrestle a friggin’ bear for you. That’s the Donald Trump I know. Haberman, you little mynx, I didn’t forget about youse.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Ask me a question.”

“Mr. Scaramucci.”

“Call me Mooch.”

“Under no circumstances. Mr. Scaramucci, you’re a successful businessman with complex financial holdings. Have you fully divested from your portfolio?”


“That’s it? ‘Nah?'”

“Yeah, nah. I had a talk with the Big Guy and he said it was fine if I kept my business.”

“It’s not fine.”

“He said.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“Kinda seems to be now, doesn’t it?”


“Okay, pussies, I’m hitting the gym. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya. Mooch out!”

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