Thoughts On The Dead

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

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Donald Trump Meets Secretary Of State Candidates


“General? Where’s my general?”

“Right here, sir.”

“General Kelly? General?”

“Stop looking all around the room, Mr. President.”


“I’m just gonna tap you on the shoulder.”

“Oh, there you are. General, this is a big day. Maybe the biggest day in White House history. Have I shown you the Lincoln Bedroom?”

“Dozens of times, sir.”

“Beautiful bedroom, Republican bedroom. Lincoln was a Republican, which most people don’t know. Even though he had a beard, he was a Republican. Wild, right?”

“Crazy, sir. We should get to the auditions for Secretary of State.”

“Ring-Dings first.”

“After the first candidate, sir.”

“Are you trying to manage me, General!? Do I need to be managed like a little fucking baby!? I’m not a fucking baby! Gimme my Ring-Dings!”


“Ooh, Ring-Ding.”

“I’ll invite the first candidate in, sir.”

“Great, sure, okay, fine, Ring-Ding.


“Ahh! Jesus! The inner-city!”

“Mr. President, that’s former Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice.”

“I knew that. I told you that. I knew that much, much more than anyone thought, but I surprised them and beat 32 people to get the nomination. Conestoga?”

“My name is Condoleeza, Mr. President.”

“Is that your real name or your rap name?”

“I am not going to answer that question.”

“I know all the rap guys. Good friends of mine. Diddy, I know Diddy. Big money guy, real killer. Lil Jon was on The Apprentice. Excellent player, good at the game. Snoop. Tall. Very tall, Snoop. They all tell me, ‘Mr. Trump, thank you for your inspiration.’ I played golf with Ja Rule.”

“Good for you, sir.”



“–I’m very interested in you being thee next Secretary of State in order to open up relations with Wakanda, but I’m gonna need to see your birth certificate.”

“I’m outta here.”


“I turned her down. You saw that, General.”

“Yes, sir. Sent her packing.”

“The best people, all the great, talented people: they all want a piece of the White House. I get–and you know this is true, General–the best people in the world. They’re knocking down the door, the best people.”



“Oh, I think you’ll like this candidate, President Trump. Come on in!”


“What the hell is that thing?”

“This is the IT-O Interrogator droid.


“Is it just gonna hover there?”

“That’s what it does, sir.”

“No. Gotta have legs. You know who doesn’t have legs, General? Snakes, sharks, Tammy Duckworth. Can’t trust anything without legs, very important, some people say in the top five limbs. You ever see what the Koreans are doing with their legs?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Killing us! They’re laughing at us with their legs. Gotta have legs.”



“General, I’m not impressed by your picks. I make the most wonderful picks, and you’re just blowing it. Maybe I do Secretary of State? I do a comprehensive, put everything together. I mean, I took care of Rocket Man, bing bang dong. It was easy, easy, and Obama couldn’t do it. Both Bushes, Daddy and Whatever, they couldn’t do it. Hillary sent North Korea plutonium as a Christmas present, and then she tried to pass a law that you couldn’t say ‘Merry Christmas.’ I saw a tape of it, believe me. The worst.”

“Yes, sir. Perhaps this next fellow will be more to your liking.”

“Robble robble.”


“Robble robble.”

“You look so good, very handsome.”

“Robble robble.”

“Thank you, it’s from the Trump Tie Collection, which are probably the greatest neckties ever sold. I’ve had so many people call me up. Kid Rock. Can you believe that? He calls me and says, ‘Mr. Trump, I’m a rocker guy, I don’t do neck ties, but I had this fancy thing to attend and I put on one of your ties and, like, wow.’ Kid Rock said it was the most comfortable tie he’d ever worn, which is a great compliment to me, a beautiful compliment. Kid Rock.”

“Robble robble.”

“We can work out your salary, we can work out the money, don’t worry about the money. I think you’re my guy. We should celebrate. Let’s get some burgers.”

“Robble robble?”


“Robble robble!”


“What happened? General?”

“Well, he’s got a hamburger for a head. You basically accused him of being a cannibal.”

“Fake news.”

“Yes, sir. Never happened.”

“Is Mayor McCheese available?”

“We’re going to have the same problem there, too, sir.”

“Now I want burgers.”

“Yes, sir. What should we do about Secretary of State?”

“Who’s the fatty running the CIA?”

“Mike Pompeo.”

“He’ll do.”

Trump’s Demands For Space Force

  • Millennium Falcon, but made out of gold.
  • The most beautiful zap guns you’ve ever seen.
  • Burger King on the moon.
  • The Enterprise, but named after Ivanka.
  • The uniforms have to be classy.
  • Robots and computers can’t talk ebonics.
  • Build a ringworld and make the Martians pay for it.
  • I wanna be able to drop stuff on people I don’t like.
  • CNN’s satellite gets shot down the first day.
  • Death ray.

First Draft Of The Russia Probe Memo

House Permanent Select
Committee On Intelligence

Russia Investigation


Following a more than yearlong, very bipartisan no matter what the Democrats say, investigation into Russian active measures targeting the 2016 U.S. election, the House Intelligence Committee has completed a draft report of 150+ pages, with 600+ citations. The plus sign means that there’s MORE than 600 citations, and that is a shitload of citations. There are also several graphs, many charts, and a number of crude drawings of Adam Schiff having sex with a dead coyote. The draft report addresses, in detail, each of the questions within the agreed parameters of the investigation, as announced in March 2017. It analyzes:

  • President Sotero’s disastrous failure to counteract Russian active measures against the United States.
  • That there was no collusion between the Trump campaign and Russia.
  • The history of secret American intervention into foreign country’s politics, so maybe we deserved this, huh?

Initial Findings

  • While President Putin is brave and strong, it does appear that rogue factions within the Russian Federation attacked America and her allies during 2016.
  • Or maybe it was the Jews?
  • Barack Obama, too busy purchasing hair picks with fists on the handle, ignored many of his advisors that warned of Russian interference.
  • No collusion.
  • No collusion.
  • Hillary did Benghazi.
  • The FBI also did Benghazi.

Proposed Recommendations

This draft also includes over 25 recommendations, among them:

  • Appointing Barron as Cyber Czar.
  • Assembling the Avengers.
  • Asking President Putin if he did one more time, but making him Swear he didn’t do it.
  • Like, on a Bible.
  • Executing Hillary Rodham Clinton in public.


No collusion.

This draft will be available to the public on the 17th, but Sean Hannity will get it on the 12th.


(After this utter hogwash.)

A Partial Transcript Of Today’s Gun Control Meeting, 2/28/18

“Did everyone try the cookies? Everyone get a cookie? These are, and you have to believe me, the most delicious cookies probably in the world. The whole world. Ratios. All in the ratios. Chips-to-dough. Can’t be too many chips, because that’s just disgusting. You got a mess there. The other way isn’t great, either. Gotta get the ratios. Mike? Where’s Mike? He never stops by lately, he’s probably in church, loves going to church. Mike?”

“Here, sir.”

“Where’s my vice-president? Mike?”

“I’m right here, sir.”

“Okay, Mike. You moved. I knew where you were, but you moved. Have you tried the cookies?”

“Sir, we have an agenda to–”

“I’m the president, and I make the agenda. Cookies are on the agenda. Eat a cookie, Mike. Jesus says it’s okay.”

“I really prefer to snack on cottage cheese and tepid water, sir.”

“Mike, I need your loyalty on this. Are you gonna be loyal, Mike? I need cookie loyalty.”

“I’ll have his cookies, Mr. President.”

“Who said that? What?”

“Dianne Feinstein, sir.”

“Where are you?”

“Literally six inches to your left, sir.”

“I knew that. I saw you the entire time, Dianne Feinstein, right, very Democratic, very bad.”

“Oh, I’m not so bad.”

“You’re not so bad.”


“You were right, Mr. President. About a lot of things, but specifically these cookies. The best.”

“The best!”

“You pick the best cookies.”

“I do. I pick the best cookies.”

“Hey, let’s ban assault weapons.”

“Y’know, that’s a good idea. Hey, everybody: let’s ban assault weapons.”


“Mr. President, if I might speak from personal experience here: when I was shot last year at a Congressional softball practice–”

“Steve Something.”

“–I was saved…Scalise, sir…by several armed–”

“I like Senators that don’t get shot. We got too many guns. I’m not talking about bing bing bing, I’m talking about the whammajammas. Whatever they’re called, the black ones. We gotta get rid of the black whammajammas, gentlemen. Up to me, I do a comprehensive. All at once, we create something beautiful. We do a comprehensive and we do a bipartisan.”

“Mr. President, I think we’re drifting–”

“Mike, how are we doing with that cookie?”

“I’m fine with the cookie.”

“Filet-O-Fish? I’ll call the guy.”

“Sir, while we are all deeply saddened by the tragedy in Parkand, we need to make sure we’re not having a knee-jerk reaction.”

“Not like this is the first one. Keeps happening! These are sick people, sick, and they’re crazy in the head. And that’s sad. But there’s nothing you can do for crazy. Sad. Nothing you can do. But they got guns! I think we gotta take the guns. Go in there and grab ’em. First you grab the guns, and then you worry about the legal. The legal will come later. Forget about the legal, you gotta grab the guns.”

“I think we need to worry about ‘the legal,’ sir.”

“Man, this guy. Mike Pence loves guns so much. Mike, how much did the NRA give you this year?”

“We’re on teevee, sir.”

“Tons! They own half this room. NRA owns you guys, but we gotta do something about the guns.”

“Mr. President, may I have another scrumptious cookie?”

“Absolutely, Dianne.”

“You have the best taste in snacks.”

“Many people tell me that. Great snacks.”

“Much better than Obama.”

“Yes, yes, much better than Obama.”

“Hey, let’s raise the age limit on handguns to 21.”

“Great idea. Hey, everybody–”



Overheard At CPAC

  • Oh, now it’s a party: Sheriff Clarke whipped out his nacho hat.
  • Don’t you love how we’re not even pretending to be decent humans anymore?
  • I just saw the Trump sons turn into bats and fly into the bar.
  • Yes, I do agree that Charles De Gaulle was one of history’s greatest monsters, Ms. le Pen.
  • Jesus, Ted Cruz took his skin off again.
  • That’s the third guy I’ve met with “Neil Gorsuch” tattooed on his dick.
  • Lick my filth and join with me in M’naa-K’ah, the forbidden sex magicks of Klingon perverts-priests
  • Lick my filth, I said.
  • There is a perfectly valid reason that women get paid less than men: they don’t have to wash their dicks, so they don’t need to buy as much soap, so they don’t need to get paid as much; the left doesn’t understand arguments based on logic.
  • Are you going to the ICE raid? They’re taking the hotel’s head maintenance guy. He’s been here 26 years. They’re gonna do it in the lobby so we can watch; it’s gonna be fucking awesome.
  • If I gotta hear Laura Ingraham sing karaoke to Springtime for Hitler one more time, I’m gonna go nuts.
  • You dosed Seb Gorka? I dosed Seb Gorka. Jesus, how many people dosed Seb Gorka? We should check on him.
  • Guys, you CANNOT bring the tiki-torches in the elevator when they’re lit.
  • Where’s Donald’s Busy Bee? Oh, God, where’s Busy Bee? If he doesn’t have it, he’ll start tweeting. Where’s Busy Bee!?
  • If Jesus came back right now, I bet he’d be pretty fucking impressed.
  • Vice-President Pence. Mother Pence. Your chamber has been…prepared.
  • After the teachers, we should arm the students. Even out the odds.
  • Ben Shapiro is riding an adult-sized Big Wheel around the halls of the hotel like the kid from The Shining, and it’s freaking people out.
  • It hadn’t occurred to me that Hillary might be directly responsible for the Parkland shooting, but now that you bring it up, I believe it fully and without question.
  • Hail victory.

A Partial Transcript Of Presidents Trump and Nieto’s Phone Call

Tentative plans for Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto to make his first visit to the White House to meet with President Trump were scuttled last week after a testy call between the two leaders ended in an impasse over Trump’s promised border wall, according to U.S. and Mexican officials. – “After testy call with Trump over border wall, Mexican president shelves plan to visit White House” Washington Post 2/24/18

“We got him? Is he on? I’m doing great with these phone calls today, so great. They took a poll, I got a 93% approval on the phone calls, which is the highest anyone’s ever gotten. History of polls, just great. Is he there? Where’s my Mexican? Hey! Speedy! You there?”

“I’m here.”

“It’s me, the Presidente. Mucho, mucho presidente.”

“Like I’ve told you every time we’ve spoken, I speak fluent English.”

“Speedy, I’m up to my waist in dead kids up here. They ruined Infrastructure Week.”


“We’re gonna arm the teachers. Give ’em the most beautiful training, like a week or whatever. Bad guy comes in? Bing bing bing. Now you’ve got a hero. I mean, teachers are heroes always, sure, okay, but this? This would be great for me. Lunch-ladies, too. The ones with the hairnets? They get guns, too. Everyone in the building, train ’em, great.”

“That’s your plan?”

“Or maybe I do an assault-weapons ban. Maybe that. Could be a little of both. I could even do a bipartisan. Two weeks, I’ll tell you in two weeks, but everyone is going to be mucho, mucho happy with the plan. But don’t worry, I’m not like Hillary. I won’t grab your guns.”

“No. You don’t grab guns.”

“I went down, Florida, I stopped in on the way to Mar-A-Lago. I saw some of the kids who got shot, even though most of their parents did not vote for me, and no one in the lying media gave me any credit at all for that. Real messes, these kids. Some bad smells, I gotta admit. But they’ll be fine. They’ll be okay. They knew what they signed up for.”

“Wow. Mr. President, we made this call to discuss the particulars of our upcoming meeting.”

“Out of respect, I didn’t golf that day.”

“Please. Please can we stick to the agenda of the call?”

“Okay, Jose.”

“Mr. President, you must not say that Mexico will pay for the wall during our press conference.”

“I hear you.”

“Is that a ‘yes?'”

“I hear you.”

“Goddammit, are you just reading off a notecard?”

“I hear you.”

“Donald, you cannot say that Mexico will pay for the wall.”

“How can I not? Listen, Gordita, I promised my base the wall, and a Trump always keeps his word.”


“Frankly, I don’t see how you don’t want to pay for it. Many people are saying that the shooter from Florida was with MS-13.”

“No one is saying that.”

“Many-o people-o.”

“Mr. President, Mexico will never pay one bloody cent for your stupid, racist wall.”

“Y’know, this is why your country’s a shithole. You don’t know how to make deals.”

“Deal with my dick, Cabeza de Baloncesto.”


Piece On Shit

Donald Trump is not a piece of shit. Shit can be useful.

Put it in a barrel, throw your banana peels and egg shells and coffee grounds on top. Cardboard and paper works, too, because cardboard and paper are just mutilated trees. Cover up the barrel, stir it once in a while. In no time at all, you’ll have mulch. This can be used to grow nutritious fruits and vegetables, or beautiful flowers, or icky that is so sticky.

It’s fuel, too, shit. When the settlers crossed the Great Plains, they found no wood for their fires. All the tall grass had been burned by the Paiute; that was how they hunted the buffalo. As the sun got low, and the wagons pulled up for the night, one of the children would be given the task of collecting dung from the oxen. Apply flint, steel: fire. From shit came warmth and light and protection. Coffee could be percolated; bacon fried.

Until fairly recently, if you were wearing leather, you were wearing shit. Piss, too. If you just flay an animal, the skin–now bereft of circulating blood–will rot away quickly. The hide needs to be dried, and then tanned. Tanning used to require shit, or at least a certain bacteria found within the shit that our dummy ancestors were unable to synthesize. (It will not surprise you that the tanneries were always located on the outskirts of the city, far away from where the rich folks lived.) No shit, no leather.

Donald Trump is not a piece of shit. Shit can be useful.

He is a cancer.

Punching Above His Weight

He came for Oprah during the NBA All-Star Game on Black Panther weekend. Which is impressive. It’s like pushing Jon Stewart down the stairs at a Phish show on the third night of Hanukkah. (The sharp-eyed will not that TotD does not follow the Combovergruppenführer. I won’t have him popping up in my feed unbidden and suddenly like some cheeseburger-soaked pukwudgie.) I don’t know about this one. People love them some Oprah. White ladies would fucking die for Oprah, and every black lady has an ongoing fantasy in which she takes Gayle King’s place as Oprah’s bestie. The Big O is a four-quadrant personality; she’s got a giant Q. This is a terrible move.

Which, of course, means that he’s gonna do something even worse in a week or so. TotD thereby presents: Which Beloved American Figure Is Trump Gonna Attack Next?

  • Rocky Balboa.
  • Women actively giving birth.
  • Wounded veterans. (Wait. He already did this several times.)
  • Apple pie.
  • Babe Ruth.
  • Nancy Reagan. (“No tits! Sad!”)
  • The half-forgotten, nearly genetic, memory of the frontier that all Americans have hidden in their hearts.
  • The astronauts that died on the Challenger.
  • Hot dogs.
  • Tom Hanks.
  • The ending of Old Yeller. (“I didn’t cry. Everyone said I was going to cry. Didn’t cry. Not sad!”)

Revelations From The Mueller Indictments

  • There’s never been anything good with the initials IRA, and that includes noted disaster-movie director Irwin Allen, whose middle name was Reaganesque.
  • Even the Russians didn’t give a shit about Evan McMullin.
  • No party was charged with collusion, possibly because “collusion” isn’t the name of a crime.
  • You may or may not have run an errand for Vladimir Putin last year; there’s no way to be sure.
  • You may or may not be a Russian troll pretending to be an Enthusiast; there’s no way to be sure.
  • I may or may not be–
  • Stop it.
  • Stop all of this.
  • Wouldn’t it be great if I really were a Russian trollbot all along?
  • Like, I meant to tap the Deadhead niche and created the site to give myself some credibility, but I just got into it and forgot to sow dissension?
  • “Comrade TotDski, have you organized protest and counter-protest in Baton Rouge yet?”
  • “I haven’t. I’ve actually been working on a novel.”
  • I think that would be a great twist.
  • It would be.
  • You don’t own the bullet points. I can go wherever I want. You’re not the boss of me.
  • I absolutely am. I am the dominant voice. I stand up straight and you lean like a drunkard. Therefore, I win.
  • Ableist.
  • May I continue?
  • Yes.
  • Once again, the FBI has failed us, as it did nothing about reports of Russians standing on San Francisco street corners asking passersby for directions to “the nuclear wessels.”
  • It cannot be overstated how complicit and responsible Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, and YouTube are for this.
  • And Google.
  • If Tumblr is still a thing, then Tumblr, too.
  • I don’t know how much blame to put on Instagram.
  • Instagram is just bikini girls and food and John Mayer.
  • Fuck it, better safe than sorry: Instagram is on the list.
  • It will come as no shock that one of the states Russia targeted for special attention was Florida; the places share a lunatic bond; one of their dash-cam videos could have easily been filmed in Pompano Beach.
  • Here’s the 2020 Democratic candidate’s campaign slogan: “I will sever the cable that connects Russia to the internet with a great big hatchet.”
  • That’s a landslide right there.
  • Medicare for all, legalized pot, fuck Russia.
  • BOOM you just won the presidency.
  • Also important for a Dem to run in ’20 is “not a demon slaphead made of nightmare-shit.”
  • Nightmare-shit is when you have a nightmare so scary that you shit yourself.
  • It is a rare shit.
  • And that is what Donald Trump is made out of.
  • I have been told he employs a small army of goblins to go bedroom-to-bedroom collecting what they call “dough for the master.”
  • Sneak into your window, throw a dracula or two into your dreams, PPLFT you shit yourself in terror, and the goblins scoop it up and bring it back to the White House so they can re-sculpt our president every morning.
  • I have been told that by many, many people.
  • Many people are talking about it.

Donald Trump’s Demands For His Military Parade

  • The most beautiful tanks.
  • Marvelous jeeps or whatever we got now, those big ones, get those.
  • The helmets with the pointy things.
  • When they do the thing with the guns, when they go from one shoulder to the other, with all the yelling, that thing, great.
  • No fat chicks except Huck.
  • AT-AT Walkers.
  • Horses that know tricks.
  • Tom Brady.
  • As many soldiers as we can get, looking fabulous, and they’ll march, everyone will be talking about it.
  • Marines, too.
  • And the other ones, water-soldiers, whatever they’re called: they march, too.
  • Only good blacks.
  • I wanna make Eric a colonel.
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