Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: donald trump (page 3 of 22)

Good Sports

You’ll never guess who picked another needless, pointless, irritating, childish, and ultimately losing fight on Twitter this weekend, Enthusiasts. C’mon, guess.

Thaaaaat’s right: the ghost of Benazir Bhutto. The late Prime Minister of Pakistan, who somehow is tweeting, came for Chrissy Teigen. And, as you know well, you simply do not come for Chrissy Teigen on social media.

Stop this.

Chrissy’s epic clapback against the assassinated leader is already a Twitter Moment and the source of several rather dank memes.

I told you to knock it off. Tell the nice people what’s happening in the world. 

The hand of fate is afoot.

My God.

You’re right to supplicate. None of us might get out of this one alive.

North Korea?


Radical Islamic Terrorism?


What’s worse than RIT?

Oh, let’s not call it that.

Tell me!

Donald Trump picked a fight with sports.

Which one?

No. Donald Trump picked a fight with sports. All of them. Which is impressive; very few presidents have managed to get into imbroglios with concepts before, but Donny’s a trailblazer. Bad Grandpa’s favorite teevee show of all time, Fox & Friends, ran a segment on football players kneeling during the National Anthem, so at his speech in Alabama a few hours later, Donny demanded that NFL owners fire any son of a bitch that knelt. The crowd cheered the loudest it had all evening, and so therefore he said it again the next morning during one of his pre-dawn raids on our collective sanity. Diaper Face also found time to disinvite Stephon Curry from coming to the White House.

This was all before his Cookie Crisp. (Donald Trump eats Cookie Crisp.)

An interlude 

White House Chief of Staff John F. Kelly has a new evening routine: He periodically strolls the perimeter of the White House grounds late at night, inspecting the compound and chatting with Secret Service agents to see if they have what they need. – Washington Post, 9/22/17

You wind up pitying them. I do, at least. They’re enabling a monster, and then they go and do something vaguely human and you cant help but empathize. I bet Kelly starts looking forward to that walk by lunch. Planning stuff to talk about with the Secret Service agents. Maybe buying them stuff. I bet the Secret Service treats him like the overnight desk clerk treats the guest who can’t sleep and wandered down into the lobby to chat.

End of interlude

The leaky boat full of ebola-covered hyenas that is now our executive has double-downed several times since his initial statement; were he playing blackjack, the rules would have forced him to stop doubling-down three or four double-downs ago, but we all know casino rules aren’t really Donny’s thing. By about noon, he had talked himself into attacking the NFL, forcing some of the owners–whom I assure you are all more terrible human beings than you can imagine–to denounce his statements. Essentially, the president dared the NFL to tell him to go fuck himself.

Other sporting concerns stepped into the fray, too. How did they respond?


The NBA is not in season, but most players and some coaches have already expressed displeasure at the president’s remarks; Skip Bayless has already called the players lazy thugs.


No one cares.


One guy knelt, and another guy spit tobacco juice, and everyone showed some good hustle.


To show their outrage at Trump’s statements, rugby players drank heavily while wearing attractive shirts.


Nascar thought Trump didn’t go far enough, and would like the entire NFL arrested except for most of the quarterbacks, a few tight ends, and all of the kickers.


No official response.


Not an actual sport.


Men are with the shitstreak. Ladies’ tour? Not as much.

Professional surfing.

Gnar, braj.

“Fuck It, Just Punch The Next Black Guy You See,” Trump Tells Cheering Audience

HUNTSVILLE, AL – President Donald J. Trump, appearing at a rally tonight in support of Senate candidate Luther Strange, capped off his speech by saying, “Enough with the political correctness, right. Right, sure, the worst, right. CNN is turning off their cameras because they want blacks to punch you. Y’know what? Fuck it, just punch the next black guy you see.”

The crowd, estimated at 4,000 by fire marshals and 25,000 by President Trump, applauded rapturously while several camera operators slipped out the door.

“Ever see what a black will do with the flag?” Trump continued. “Wrap it around their chongas. That the way you want the flag to be treated?”

The crowd, now pogoing up and down with cultural anxiety, began howling. “No!” they screamed, and “Never!” and another word that starts with N.

“We let them be quarterbacks and this is how the blacks treat us? We let them be quarterbacks!”

“Damn them!” the crowd shouted. “They’re natural wide receivers!” was a cry heard from several quarters of the audience.

Hearing the applause, Trump slipped into a fugue state and began screaming “DARKIE TIME! GET’EM! GET ‘EM!” at the top of his lungs until a choking fit overcame him and he spit up a demon named A’kiok, who ate Katy Tur.

Interviewed after the speech, Bessie Mae Jessups said, “I liked the stuff about punching black folks, but I do wish he’d tweet a bit less. It isn’t helpful.” At the speech was Jonathan Chait from New York magazine, who said that Trump’s speech was very presidential and then complained about college students for 2,000 words.

Countries Of The World (According To Trump)

  • Zimbobble.
  • Samoans.
  • Olly-Olly-Oxenfree.
  • Southern Africa.
  • Canadia.
  • The People’s Republicans of Taiwan.
  • The Place Where They Make The Canoes, You Know What I’m Talking About, Great, Beautiful.
  • Puerto Rico.
  • Gallifrey.
  • Rhodesia.
  • Lichtenbourg.
  • Someanimals.
  • Southern Ireland. (“There’s a Northern, there’s gotta be a Southern. People aren’t aware of this, most people. Doing great things, Southern Ireland.”)
  • Gutter.
  • Bangagong.
  • That Place With All The French People.

Transcript Of Donald J. Trump’s Remarks To The U.N. General Assembly 9/19/17

“Great, yes, great. Wonderful. The biggest general assembly in many, many years. I’ve got generals. John? Where’s John Kelly? He’s my general, great general, very tall and strong, great hire by me. John, where are you?”


“John? He’s somewhere, he’s great, the best general. I yell for him and he assembles. No one assembles like my generals.

“It’s great to be here in New York City, whose mayor is a real creep, to address you on behalf of all the people who voted for me, but not the losers and haters and all the fake news people who are very disgusting. You got fake news where you’re from? Hey, black guy. You got fake news wherever you’re from?”


“Yeah, yeah, black guy, inner cities, terrible, carnage. You.”

“I don’t understand what you’re–”

“What does your little sign say? Botswana? Is that a real place?”

“Yes, it–”

“I knew that. Many people are unaware of Botswana, but it’s doing really, really, really beautiful things right now. Good job. Hurricane hit you?”

“Of course the hurricane–”

“Probably millions dead in Bobwanna. So very sad. I pledge a billion dollars to help. We’ll get right on the details, but everyone is going to be very happy, even the millions dead. Sad, but I’m a hero.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the United Nations, I come to you at a time of American prosperity because of me and my election, which was the greatest electoral victory of all time. The stock market just hit 45,000. Hillary wanted to bomb Wall Street. An actual bomb, believe me! Maybe she kept some of the uranium she personally delivered to Russia, which is not a thing. No Russia, no Russia.

“We are so powerful. Not all of us. Us. Not you. America has to come first because we’re the best country with the best president. Know who’s not a god president? Rocket Man. Hey, Bobwanna–”


“–you guys know the Rocket Man? You got stereos there or still with the huts?”

“We are a modern–”

“Packed my bags pre-flight. Zeeba deeba dobba doo. You know that song? Elton John. Mike Pence is a big fan. Where’s Mike? Mike? Where’s Mike? Stand up, Mike.”


“Mike? He’s here, he’s great. Eats the same lunch every day. Tuna sandwich. Mike? He’s around here.

“Anyway, Rocket Man might make me kill everyone in North Korea. I don’t want to. I wish I didn’t have to, but I’m the president of the US, which makes me the president of the UN. Truman snuck that into the charter. Tucker Carlson did a whole thing on it. I don’t know about desegregating the Army, but the charter thing was good. Many people don’t know this about Truman. Better than Roosevelt. I said it, I said it. Why didn’t Roosevelt drop the bomb on Japan years earlier? Roosevelt didn’t stand up for America. Couldn’t. You know, legs. I probably have the most powerful legs of any president. Standing broad jump champ of New York City as a teenager, all the boroughs.

“I will send Rocket Man on the highway to hell, where he will get no satisfaction. That’s all rock and roll, Bob Wanna.”

“Botswana. And it’s not my name, you–”

“I was gonna call him Fatty Squintsalot, but Ivanka said to me, she said, ‘Daddy, don’t do that. Don’t be mean, Daddy.’ How could I say no? So, I was nice. I didn’t call him Fatty Squintsalot. I was very nice.

“Rocket Man is going down. No one respects him. Everyone makes fun of how he looks. Country’s a shithole. I have to say it: shithole. Almost as bad as the UN Building. Very poorly constructed. Reminds me of the White House. Not a four-star destination. No clubhouse. Are there any tennis courts at all? I haven’t seen any. How do you build a place with no tennis courts?

“Where’s Iran? We’re gonna maybe bomb them, too, maybe, we’ll see. I’ll tell you in two weeks. Where’s Iran? You, are you Iran?”

“Iraq. You already bombed us.”

“Keep it up and you’ll get more. Iran? Where’s Iran? You?”

“We’re Ireland, y’ fookin’ eejit.”

“I got the right row. Iran? Show yourself, Iran, or I come up with a nickname for you, too.”


“They’re around here somewhere. Probably committing Radical Islamic Terrorism. I’m gonna say it again to make up for Obama, who never said it because he was very weak and half-black. Radical Islamic Terrorism. One more time, and I’m gonna do my hand gesture really, really hard.







“However you say ‘hombres’ in Iranian, they’re bad ones.

“Okay, so you need to make your countries great again, just like America is great again because I made it great. I only wish that I could be president of all your countries so I could make them all great myself. God bless America and wherever you live to, except Iran and North Korea, who I’m going to bomb, maybe, we’ll see.

“All right, great.”

Fuck You, Donny

I don’t say it enough. Fuck you, Donny; you’re a monkey’s cunt-hair and when that big, greasy heart of yours goes, I’ll whistle Dixie.

Fuck your demented blabbering and your 200-word vocabulary and your mouth that reminds me of a dead dog’s asshole.

Fuck your hobbled conscience–if it ever learned to walk in the first place–and your pathetic need for your father’s love.

Fuck your thin, orange skin.

Fuck your racism and all your little toads who just ask questions–But how exactly is he racist?–and your winks and whistles.

Fuck you for not reading. Do you even have a favorite band, you soulless cocksucker?

Fuck you for your incompetence. Shit, Dubya was a dunce, but he managed to fuck the world up real good; you can’t even do that.

Fuck you for making me nostalgic for Dubya.

Fuck your blithe know-nothingism, your historical glissandi, your “you’ll see in two weeks” bullshit.

Fuck you for thinking we’re stupid enough to ever believe you.

Fuck you for sitting your fat ass where Teddy Roosevelt wrote and thought and led.

Fuck your golf clubs, and fuck golf in general.

Fuck you on behalf of the Mexicans, the manatees, the homosexuals, and the hurricanes. And Harriet Tubman; fuck you on behalf of Harriet Tubman, Donny. And the Christ, too, for tho He is surely infinite and therefore you are of the Christ, if the Christ is infinite, then He must also be a complete asshole in need of a stomping.

Fuck you for embarrassing me, you ape made of shit.

Fuck you for embarrassing America, whom you do not love, just use as a whore.

Fuck you, Donny.

And God fuck us all, everyone.

Maggie Haberman Should Stop Picking Up The Phone After A Certain Hour


“No. No. No, no, no. I’m just not gonna answer it. I’m not gonna pick it up. But they won’t give up. They’ll keep calling me, and they’ll keep calling me until I listen to their drunken bullshit. No. No, no. I’m not gonna pick it up. I’m not.”


“Fuck! Hello?”

“Maggie, this is Donald Trump.”

“Oh, hello, Mister–”



“I did a thing today.”

“You sure did, buddy. Testified in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee. How’d it go?”

“Fucking killed it.”

“Uh-huh. I heard you got lost coming back from the bathroom.”

“That building is complicated!”


“They should let my dad build them a new Senatorium.”

“Capitol. The building is called the Capitol.”

“They should call it the Ugly Zone. There’s no amenities at all. I kept asking people, ‘Are you the concierge?’ And everyone was like, ‘Junior, you’re talking to a statue.’ I was confused a little, but then I yelled ‘Fake News!’ and I made myself laugh and everything was okay. Well, not okay. I was still pretty lost. Hey, what are you wearing?”

“A Sarah Lawrence tee-shirt and sweatpants with a pizza stain on them.”


“What are you wearing, Junior?”

“A business suit, because I’m a businessman.”

“Right. Even at three in the morning?”

“Ten a.m. in Moscow.”


“Dude, you would not believe how hard I bullshitted these dummies. They just sat there eating it up. They bought everything.”

“Riiiiight. Junior, do you know what a ‘perjury trap’ is?”

“Pssh. Of course I do. I went to Pennsylvania University.”

“You mean the University of Pennsylvania?”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not. What’s a perjury trap, Junior?”


“Are you googling it?”

“No! I KNOW WHAT IT IS! I’m smart.”


“Perjury trap doctrine refers to a principle that a perjury indictment against a person must be dismissed if the prosecution secures it by calling that person as a grand-jury witness in an effort to obtain evidence for a perjury charge especially when the person’s testimony does not relate to issues material to the ongoing grand-jury investigation. The perjury trap is a form of entrapment defense, and so must be affirmatively proven by the defendant.”

“Yeah, that’s the first hit on google.”

“No, it’s not! What’s google? I’ve never even heard of that. Is it like antifa? You are such fake news.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Why aren’t you supporting my dad? He’s the greatest president ever. Ever!”

“Well, that’s debatable, and the job of a journalist isn’t to support the president. It’s to report the news.”

“Okay, well, here’s the news: President Trump is awesome. What other president has reached across the aisle before to make a deal with the enemy party?”

“All of them. Every single one. Until Obama, for some reason.”

“Because he was divisive.”

“Right. That’s it.”

“I still think he was born in Kanye.”

“Kenya. He was born in Kenya. And he wasn’t.”

“My dad says different. My lawyer took me for hot dogs after the hearing today. I had almost three.”

“Who’s a big boy?”

“I am.”

“Yes, you are. So, what exactly did you tell the Judicial Committee about that meeting?”

“Dude, I told them that the Russian lawyer lady didn’t have any good information.”

“Was that true?”

“OH MY GOD, NO. She gave us all sorts of shit on Hillary. And, you know, I vetted her fitness. Because if anyone’s more qualified than me to judge Hillary’s fitness, I don’t know who they are.”

“You, the man who’s never worked for anyone but his daddy, were going to ‘vet the fitness’ of a former Senator and Secretary of State?”

“Yeah, fuck her.”



“There it is. Okay, Junior. I gotta get some sleep.”

“Fuck that. Come on over. I got gak.”

“No, thank you.”

“Pink and flaky, yo.”


“More for Junior.”


Predictions I Hope Do Not Come True, But Fear Will

It always gets worse. Can we agree on this axiom? When it comes to Trump, it always gets worse. We went from garden-league racism on an escalator to grabbing pussies on buses to mocking Gold Star families to idiot sons taking treasonous meetings to accusing past presidents of “wiretapping” him to blabbing secret information to the Russians (I bet you forgot about that one) to picking fights with the rest of the government. Rarely, there are moments of levity–covfefe, Mooch, that fucking handshake thing he does–but other than that, it’s been a steadily downward trend. It always gets worse.

But, of course, now he’s defended Nazis. Equivocated between armed men waving swastikas around while chanting about the Jews–and, you know, not good chants like “WE LOVE JEWS”–and those come out to oppose them. He said, of a massed column of bold racists redfaced in hatred, that some of them must have been fine people. A woman ended up dead because of one of those fine people. This must be the bottom, one would think.

But one would be wrong, as we have established that it always gets worse. And it will: the Combovergruppenführer will outdo himself; he must; he is a moth drawn to the moon. He is a perfect machine, a miracle of evolution. All he does is watch teevee, fuck up, and tweet. He will fuck up stronger, faster. He has the technology.

But how? What tops good ol’ fashioned Nazi sympathizin’?

  • Forces a Secret Service agent to break a dog’s neck while he watches, laughing; then photoshops a CNN logo on the dog and tweets it out.
  • Sells Minnesota to a Chinese bank.
  • Demands The Art of the Deal be featured alongside the Constitution in the National Archives
  • Imanatizes the Eschaton.
  • Drives the presidential limo into a crowd of people.
  • Mao jacket.
  • Reveals himself to be Mictlāntēcutli, Aztec god of death.
  • Dislocates his jaw and swallows a live rat like Diana in V.
  • Exhumes Reagan for occult purposes.
  • Flat-out burns the fucking White House down.

I Sewed Shut My Asshole…And Now I Sorely Regret It

When I first heard of the idea of sewing my asshole shut, I, like most people, thought it was a foolish idea. A week later, though, I happened to see a TEDx talk on the benefits of a sewn asshole. I was riveted.

I supported the procedure in dozens of articles, radio, and teevee appearances, even as everyone in my life said that I had to be kidding. As early as 2015, I wrote “there cannot possibly be a downside to lacing up your sphincter” and that it was “the smartest elective surgery” one could undergo. I believed that the sheer audacity of the move would be both balm and succor for all in these divided times, which is why I started a quarterly magazine entitled Asshole Affairs dedicated to promoting and defending my decision.

It is now clear my optimism was unfounded, and I should not have sewn my asshole shut. I thoroughly regret my decision and would strongly urge others considering the decision not to continue along their path. Far from making America great again, my actions have instead damaged my internal organs possibly beyond repair. I feel like I’m dying.

What did I see in sewing my asshole shut? I must now admit that I paid attention only to what I wanted, and discounted the many warnings from doctors, nurses, colleagues, and every single other person I know. The surgery would, I believed, save me, a person who went to Harvard, valuable time previously wasted in the bathroom. Financially, it was a no-brainer: thanks to Obama’s job-killing over-regulation, toilet paper is now the most expensive it’s ever been. No stains on your underwear, a cessation of flatulence, the list of positives went on forever.

Immediately after having my pucker zipped, I noticed that life was not, in fact, becoming great. When friends and family inquired, I would tell them that “it was early,” and “I’ve lived with a wide-open asshole for so many years; the transition is going to be a little shaky.”

But we are out of the transition. It is no longer early, and it is now clear that I was deluding myself. The body-wracking pains and gut spasms will not stop; they are, indeed, intensifying. Any time I thought I would save by no longer needing to poop has been replaced in treble by seizures and vomiting. As it turns out, everything my critics said was true.

I have seen the errors of my ways, but, perhaps, a bit too late and now I am completely and totally full of shit.


(After this jamoke.)

A Time For Choosing

The poet Maya Angelou once said, “Don’t forget about my asshole while you’re back there, boy. Let’s see some thumb work.” She also said “When someone shows you who they really are, believe them the first time.”

O, he showed us.

Is there a more transparent man in public life? A more obviously oblivious and  patently putrid mammal incapable of strategic thought or deed? Donald Trump has always laid his cards face-up in any one of the casinos he bankrupted. (He is, in a way, more trustworthy than actual politicians: they might be lying, but Trump is.) For years now–decades if you grew up in the New York mediasphere–he has informed all in earshot of his views on race. (And women, foreigners, the poor, and the press, but let’s stick to the topic of the day.)

His very first campaign speech–the cold open, for fuck’s sake–built to a climax in which he called Mexicans rapists.

In the 80’s, Trump paid (or got someone else to pay, most likely) for full-page ads in the papers calling for the death penalty for the so-called “Central Park Five, a group of black teens accused of raping a white women. They were later exonerated after spending years in jail; the city paid out more than $40 million in settlements. Donald Trump refused to apologize or repudiate his claims given the new information. Instead, he doubled down.

Any mention of African-Americans in his presence leads to a stuttering harangue on the inner cities, and their terrors.

Gonzalo Curiel is a judge assigned to hear a case involving Donald Trump. This is what he said:

“I think it has to do with, perhaps, the fact that I’m very, very strong on the border — very, very strong on the border,” Trump said at the time. “He has been extremely hostile to me. Now, he is Hispanic, I believe.”

Pressure on Trump continued to mount after his comments. In an interview with CNN in June, Trump doubled down on his criticism of Curiel, who was born and raised in Indiana, saying that his comments were not racist. “He’s a Mexican. We’re building a wall between here and Mexico.”

One might think it odd for a man who had such poor luck in casinos to be doubling down so much.

Donald Trump uses not just words to show us who he is, but actions. Hiring one known racist to work in the White House? Well, that’s an accident. Happens to the best of us. Happened to Reagan! Brought a fellow on to be his Communications Director and it came out that he’d been in the Hitler Youth. Ronnie gave him the axe, not sent him out to represent the presidency on teevee. Hire two? Can’t lie: that’s suspicious. But three? Now, that’s downright suggestive.

King of the birthers, ladies and gentiles.

Must we speak of Twitter? Of the “accidental” retweets from white supremacists? At the Star of David overlaid on a background of cash? Six members of Trump’s economic council have resigned in the past few days: five white and one black. I’ll take your bet on which one got the nasty tweet, but I won’t give you better odds than even money.

When Nazis started a riot in Charlottesville on Saturday, a woman ended up dead. Two policemen surveiling the scene were killed when their helicopter crashed. Many others were injured, some severely.  The president could not be bothered to cut his 17-day vacation short, and that night he read a boilerplate statement for half-a-paragraph. The statement had been prepared for him by more sober minds, but Donald got bored and started extemporizing.

“Many sides” were responsible for the carnage, he said while standing at a podium bearing the Presidential seal.

The White House released an unsigned memo the next day with more forceful language.

And so we come to the present. At a press conference today, Trump declared both sides to be equally at fault. One side, it should be noted, was made up of Nazis; the other was not. Yet the president claimed ambivalence towards the event. After all, he reminded us, the Nazis did have a permit. Then he expressed gratitude that mother of the dead woman wrote nice things about him on Facebook.

And then he lied about owning a winery in Charlottesville.

The cards are up. We’ve seen what Donald Trump is holding: most likely a flush. He seems to prefer when colors stick together. He is the most honest liar in the entire world, and he has shown us who he is.

Donald Trump has shown us whose side he is on.

Whose side are you on?

Trumps! Through! Historyyyyyyyy!

December 8th, 1941

“My fellow Americans, and also the losers and haters and blacks. Yesterday, December 7th, was a very, very bad day. Not good at all. Was it Wilkie’s fault? Maybe. Maybe. Who knows? I heard on the radio that it was, but it might have been the fake radio.

“Many sides were responsible for the tragedy in Hawaii. Parking a lot of ships like that is a real provocation. We’re not angels.

“Okay, great, war, great. Look up the Japs, though.”

September 11th, 2001

“Violence is not okay. I’m gonna say that again, but real slow. Not. Oh. Kay. Whether it’s the violence done by people flying planes into buildings, or the violence that buildings do to planes.

“It’s just sad all around.”

June 26th, 1963

Ich bin ein Berliner. But also a Communist. There are two sides to this story. Zwei sides, you understand that? Zwei.

“This is a beautiful wall.”

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