Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: the daily recounting (page 1 of 3)

The Daily Recounting 4/18/17

What didn’t Trump know today?

  1. Who’s in charge of North Korea.
  2. Which way the aircraft carrier that he, in defiance of all sanity and against all prayers, commands is going.

And let’s tie those facts together for some late night fun: he thought that the aircraft carrier was going to North Korea. Yay, we’re all gonna fucking die.

Is David Osoff the future of the Democratic Party?

  1. First of all, his name is Jon.
  2. Maybe?

Did that last question lend itself to a numbered answer?

  1. Not at all.

Anyway, the United Kingdom is still Brexiting. In fact, they may be upping their game and going for a hard Brexit. All signs point to the situation turning into some sort of HyperBrexit by September. Theresa May is their Prime Minister now; she’s a Conservative, which are not like our conservatives, but they also kinda are. Brexit is British for Trump: an incredibly stupid idea foisted upon the cities by old people, racists, and the rural dumb. This morning, she called for elections, because that’s something you can do in England. It’s like calling Shotgun, I guess.

The Conservatives (also known as the Tories) are in charge now. David Cameron, who once fucked a pig’s head, was in charge but quit within minutes of the Brexit announcement, yelling “Fixed it!” over his shoulder as he sprinted towards somewhere, anywhere, just not here. So, Theresa May took over and promised not to call for early elections, but…oh, let CNN do the heavy lifting:

Romance isn’t dead.

Parliament is gridlocked and fractious now, but May and the Tories are strong in the polls; she hopes to consolidate her power before she starts the Brexit negotiations. Her challengers include the Labour Party (also know as the Wazzocks), the Liberal Democrats (also known as the Silly Pumpkins), and the U.K. Independence Party (also known as Nazis). None of them have their shit together; this Brexit is gonna get harder than Rocco Siffredi.

In other news, Turkey took a vote and decided that they wanted to be a dictatorship. Maybe the ebola virus is right.

This has been the 89th day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.

The Daily Recounting 4/13/17

Aye, sir. With Poseidon’s blessing, our mighty armada will make Siracusa by dawn. And what of our archers, Sire? Shall they muster by the granary and ready themselves for the march?

You shiteating clown.

But, Enthusiasts, the so-called president is not the dumbest human on the planet today. No, instead we have a yammerer: Fareed Zakaria is an actor who plays an intellectual on teevee. He can speak extemporaneously in full paragraphs, which is very impressive until you read a transcript and realize he didn’t say anything. And if he did make a point, it was probably someone else’s. (Fareed likes to copy off the kid next to him.) He describes himself as “radical centrist” which is true when it comes to bothering the Middle East: Fareed will simply not hear of not bothering the Middle East, but on the other hand you don’t want to bother it too much. Weirdly enough, all three of the last presidents found Fareed’s sweet spot.


“Based on the intelligence, it’s the right move.”


“The strategy is working. We need to give it some time.”


“Oh, God, I’m gonna cum.”

Fareed’s a real asshole.

Anyway, he wrote this in the Washington Post today because while democracy dies in darkness, it will die via dipshits.

  1. Shut the fuck up.
  2. Every policy he has pursued so far has been objectively wrong, evil, and dangerous. Just because this particular wrong, evil, and dangerous is your fetish doesn’t make it okay, you imperialist goon.
  3. People didn’t call you a shithead because of “Trump Derangement Syndrome” (or as others call it “being observant”), they called you a shithead because you chose the impulsive, slapdash, and ultimately ineffective bombing of a newly-abandoned air base to proclaim Trump presidential. You flat-out said that dropping bombs makes you the president.
  4. Shithead.
  5. Is he a cancer or should we evaluate him impartially?  Fareed Zakaria: world’s worst oncologist.
  6. Fareed Zakaria masturbates to footage of nuclear tests.

The Daily Recounting, 4/12/17

JFK was in the Navy, and so was Nixon. LBJ, Ford, Carter, and George H.W. Bush, too. (Carter was even a Midshipman, just like the basketball player David Robinson and the football player Roger Staubach.) Cesar Chavez and Harvey Milk. Armistead Maupin and Thomas Pynchon and Robert Heinlein and L. Ron Hubbard. Neil Armstrong was in the Navy–a lot of astronauts were–and Don Rickles and Charlie Murphy, too. Lenny Bruce and Larry Flynt.

What I’m saying is: don’t judge the Navy for Steve Bannon.

Steve’s smart–he’s been successful in several fields spanning multiple decades–but somewhere along the way a bad command got in the system and now he’s King of the Racists. (I know we’re supposed to use the term “nationalist” or “Alt-Right” or “whatnot” but never tell a lie when you aren’t forced to.)

I think I know what happened.

You see what happened?



Hey, jackass. Are you chewing gum? Did you bring enough for everyone?

Oh, you did? Well, pass it out and let’s have a chewing party.

What is this?

I am asking an imaginary classroom questions, and also redistributing wealth.

Stop it.

Okay. On September 11th, 2001, I lived in Los Angeles: Orange Street in Hollywood, which is right in between Mann’s Chinese Theater and the Magic Castle in the Hollywood Hills. I had a studio on the seventh floor with a view of the Hollywood Sign and a pill habit. Two parts vicodin to one part valium, and then xanax so I could sleep. I had a routine in those days as far as music: Elvis Presley’s Sun Sessions in the morning and Panthalassa to go to sleep.

The phone did not generally ring at six a.m. It was my mother, and she told me to turn on the teevee, which I did and promised her I’d stay safe–as if that were my promise to make–and hung up and shut the teevee off and rolled back over to sleep. The phone rang again, my buddy Richie. I left the teevee on this time and watched for several minutes. People forget the chaos. There was supposed to have been a plane headed towards Los Angeles. There were supposed to be planes headed everywhere. Pants. If there was an emergency situation hurtling towards me, I thought, then I needed to be wearing pants.

I called my friends Chris and Tess, who lived six or seven blocks west of me. This was a long time ago, and they were very young and poor like I was, so the phone by their bed was a Wolverine phone, bright yellow with a foot-tall posable Canadian mutant atop it, and when someone called you it went SNIKT SNIKT. So that’s how Chris and Tess found out about 9/11.

Sitting on the edge of my bed watching teevee just like the rest of the country. Phone rings again. My friend Brian manages a bar; I’m a regular there. He lives with five guys he knows from Boston College in a Brady Bunch house in the suburbs of North Hollywood. There is a swimming pool in the back, and the kitchen has faded linoleum floors and pressboard cabinets stained to look like oak. The lawn is beyond salvation, but lemons grow on the trees unbidden. Come over, he said.

I had a sky-blue 1992 Chevy Corsica that had started smoking the second I entered Los Angeles County and not stopped breaking since; I would eventually take the plates off, pop the hood, and let the city claim it for scrap. It drove that morning, though, and so I motored through the Cahuenga Pass. You can take the 101, but Highland is faster even with the lights. I had my windows down and everyone else on the road was listening to the news, too. Right on Barham, park in the long driveway.

There is no one home but a very small dog who I will later learn is named Alabama. (True Romance was a very big movie at the time.) At the time, I took the puppy for a sign. Innocence, love, forgiveness. One of those, whichever. Now I know it was a dog on a Tuesday morning.

My friends were at a diner around the corner; I joined them and ate eggs and bacon while we watched the teevee with the rest of the room. When we went back to the house, I felt very guilty about getting high but I still did.

The next day was a Wednesday, and Wednesday is the day that the new comic books come in. I would meet my friend Gary at the Starbucks on Melrose, and we would walk two blocks west to the Golden Apple. There are always jet contrails over LA. Something about the weather. None today, though, and no helicopters. When we walked into the store, I looked at the wall bearing all the new issues and asked, “Where the fuck were you?”

No one thought that was funny.

The next day, the bar that Brian managed reopened and I was sitting at the bar drinking red wine and saying stupid shit.

“I’d join up right now,” I said.

There was a man who drank at that bar named John. I liked him very much. He had served in Vietnam, and he was kind enough not to laugh at me when I said that. The feeling faded quickly.

But for some, it didn’t. 9/11 turned a certain subsection of Americans raving mad, into crusaders for Western Civilization against the fierce Mohammedan hordes,this galvanizing call to arms that–for lack of a better word–radicalized them into action. (And, ironically, adopting the precise, but mirror-image, worldview of their supposed enemy.) It happened to Dennis Miller. Remember Dennis?

And it happened to Steve, I say with no basis to back up that statement. Just seems right.

Anyway: Stevie’s getting canned.

We know this because this is what The Foul One said before he fired Flynn and Manafort, and the man’s not clever; he only one or two tricks, but unlike those other two traitors, Bannon has backing. He is owned by the Mercers, who helped put Trump in office with their money and marketing. The Mercers also own Breitbart, which Bannon used to run but also still secretly runs.

This is going to be fun.

This has been the 83rd day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.

The Daily Recounting 4/11/17

“Mr. Madison?’

“What is it, Jenkins? I told you not to bother me while I’m writing the Constitution.”

“It’s about that, sir.”

“This better not be that parliament talk again.”

“Why not? Maybe we don’t need a president.”

“We can’t have a parliamentary system because that requires you be able to call elections at any time, and America’s too big and spread out for that.”

“I don’t know if that argument makes sense.”

“Who’s the Founding Father here?”

“You are.”

“That’s right, I am. So stop bugging me. We decided on three branches.”

“Okay, but maybe the executive branch is more of a mascot to the other branches?”

“No, Jenkins.”

“How about this: make the Supreme Court in charge of the military.”

“What? That’s absurd.”

“Or me. Make me in charge of the military. Literally anyone but the president.”

“Stop it.”

“Fine. What if there’s an escape hatch clause?”

“What are you blathering on about?”

“An escape hatch clause. Like, if it turns out that the president is a deranged and irrational grifter who watches teevee all day and only trusts his immediate family?”


“Forget I said teevee. Concentrate on the other stuff.”

“Jenkins, have you not read the document? The executive may declare no war without the legislature’s vote.”

“Declare war, sure. But he could start one on his own.”

“Are you smoking opium again?”


“We should later.”

“Okay. What about money?”

“I’m not giving you any more. You just buy candy.”

“No, sir. What about the president’s money?”

“The man’s salary shall be $25,000, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. But what about a ban on making any profit outside the office while one occupies it?”

“No, no. Should General Washington sell his farm?”

“Well, that’s one thing, but what if General Washington licensed his name to hotels in China?”

“You’re talking gibberish again, Jenkins.”

“Just add one line. Just one. ‘The president is not allowed to use Twitter.’ One line, Mr. Madison, please.”

“Jenkins, are you possessed by a demon?”

“Probably not, sir.”

“The document has been framed. We’re done. No more additions. You have no faith in the wisdom of the common man, nor in the wisdom of those who have created this government.”

“Yes, sir. How much did you pay for me?”

“Fifty dollars. You were expensive.”

“I’m sure the Constitution is just fine, sir.”

“No one asked you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Daily Recounting 4/3/17

I don’t understand any of this. I recognize the glyphs. Those are called letters, which are then grouped into words; I know most of these words. But the combination is making my nose bleed.

No, that’s not right. It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m sure this is just an error.


The Daily Recounting 3/30/17

A drowning man will take you down with him. If you try to save him, that is, or get anywhere near him. Experienced lifeguards will advise you to render the victim unconscious with a length of rebar before attempting a rescue, or letting him die before you save him. Donny’s drowning, and he is desperately grasping for a handhold. A tiny, tiny handhold. He is attacking everyone in sight, with no regard for strategy or repercussion, and if it weren’t for the fact that the world was ending, it would be hilarious.

So, who’d Turnip pick fights with today?


I’m loathe to give the mushy pile of pumpkin shit advice, but NOOOOOOO. These are the stalwarts here, the ones who would have died marching for him, and Donny’s calling them out in public. He’s really fucking calling them out, too:

I give it until the end of next week: Trump in the presidential limo outside Meadows’ office, clinking beer bottles together.

“FREEEEEEE-dom Caucus! Come and out PLAAAAAAY-ay!”

This is not, as I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you, the way to get people on your team. It also notifies the rest of the Republicans in Congress that you’ll turn on them the second they’re not useful to you any more. Washington’s not like New York or Hollywood: one bank doesn’t like your deal, take it to the next one; there’s a million production companies, and dozens of big buyers in L.A. It’s not like he can peddle his healthcare bill to a different legislative body.

(“Y’know what? Fuck the House. Let’s pitch the Knesset.”

“We can’t do that, Mr. President.”

“Warm the plane up!”)

Also: Raul Labrador is not a real name. Raul Labrador is a character from Little Aleppo’s long-running soap opera Tomorrow’s Yesterdays; he is a geologist/masseur, and he has an identical twin sister named Succulent Labrador.


What does this even mean, you rank simpleton? I guarantee you this ninny couldn’t explain to you why tariff wars are a bad thing if you spotted him the Smoot and the Hawley. China buys our cars, and some of our movies, and–I was surprised by this–American crops; we buy China’s everything. China made the thing I’m typing this on, and probably the thing you’re reading it on. America no longer makes a lot of stuff. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is up for debate, but it is a fact. We do, however, love buying stuff so much. The only thing Americans like better than stuff is cheap stuff, and slapping a 20% tariff on said cheap stuff doesn’t mean China gives us 20%, it means we pay Walmart and Target 20% more. Plus, China starts ratcheting up the import taxes on our stuff. We know this because this is what has happened every single time it’s been attempted.

I’m a moron and I can understand this.

Also, we return to strategy: not the best idea to announce before a meeting, “I’m gonna be real prick to this guy!”

Also also, the Wigged Whiner invited President Jinping to Mar-A-Lago–because of course he did–and asked him to play golf, and here’s why this is funny: golf is a bit of a sore spot in China now. It’s an aspirational and bourgeois activity, and therefore banned, but that didn’t stop people from building golf courses all over the place; naturally, all the courses had a local Communist Party mandarin attached to them and the corruption became so rampant that Beijing had to step in, and you do not want Beijing stepping in. So, like I said, it’s a sore spot that could have been avoided by ten seconds of googling. Or by not dismantling the State Department.


I like how casual he is. “Change libel laws?” It’s like a note you leave yourself by the phone. “Ice cream cake for Timmy’s bday?”

Second: if those that claim these kind of tweets are “distractions” and that he does this intentionally are correct, then they must answer one question. If he’s so smart, why would he make himself look so stupid? There surely must be better distractions. Go after Arnold again. Call Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas.” People love that one. You don’t make it look as though you have no idea what the president actually does.

Unless, you know: you have no idea what the president actually does. This leads me back to reminding you of the greatest failing of the media during this campaign season: no one asked him how a bill becomes a law.


Can the president change libel laws?


Why not?

So many reasons.

This has been the 70th day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.

The Daily Recounting 3/27/17

Life is not a David Mamet play, Enthusiasts. You can tell by how arrhythmic the dialogue is. Things are mostly as they appear; people are generally who they seem. It looks like a cabal of Nationalists bent on alienating the world while wiping their asses with the Constitution led by a 12-year-old wearing an orange fat suit because that is what is happening: these fuckers are trying to privatize and/or destroy all government services so…well, there’s the part I can’t figure. The privatizing I understand: Trump and his buddies are greedy pigs who would shit in their own grandmother’s mouth to distract her while they rummaged through her purse. Alienating the world and destroying services…well, I’d say that endgame there is “the race war” if people wouldn’t accuse me of being melodramatic.

But–and this is the good news–they also look incompetent because they are. The Trump Administration is not playing the long con: they do not know what they’re doing. Imagine a monkey. Not even an ape, one of the little screeching fuckers with the long tails, and take that monkey to a high school and ask him to teach algebra. Back in the jungle, that monkey was in his element–great monkey, the best monkey, the most beautiful monkey–but now the monkey will not prosper, because he does not know the transitive property and will probably bite a couple kids.

They want to do such terrible things, and they’re so terrible at it.

(To continue the school metaphor because it amuses me: if the Trump White House became the administration of a high school, then–obviously–they would immediately begin planning to sell all the students into sexual slavery. Luckily for the students, Principal Trump would spend all day yelling offensive bullshit into the PA system (“I need the chemistry teacher with the giant cha-chas to come my office.”) and then get involved in decades-old intra-and-inter department battles; this would cause a strike. Also, the student newspaper would find out about the slavery deal, plus the cops would catch Bannon buying vodka for sophomore girls. They’d also maybe burn the goddamned school down, too. It is impossible to overstate how shit these jackals are at governing.)

So, here’s some terrible news from today, and the reason why the Monster Squad has already fucked it up:

Taxes – Oh, no!

As you know (if you only consume right-wing media), Turnip won big in the healthcare fight; from here, it’s on to a complete revision of the tax code that will slice rates for the rich, and for corporations. It might even include something the GOP is now calling a “border adjustment tax.” Who can guess what that used to be called? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Taxes – Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Since back here in Reality World the GOP took the worst kind of dick* on the healthcare bill, they no longer have the ability to pass the bill they want. They were counting on a trillion dollars in wiggle room that Obamacare’s repeal would free up, which is no longer there; this means they’d need to make their reforms debt-neutral to get through the Senate because of procedural rules OR get some Democrats to go in with them, and that isn’t happening.

Jared Kushner – Oh, no!

Look at this bullshit:

Did you see that bullshit? Sounds scary. Secretive group of unelected billionaires looking to use the Oval Office to imprint their philosophy upon history’s page. OOOOOOoooooooh. Scary.

Jared Kushner – Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You’re gonna laugh.

Did you laugh? I did. Jared Kushner is a little snot with a rich crook for a father–Ivanka married him for his money, not the other way around–and he’s got less blood than a normal human, and a double-eyelid called a nictitating membrane. He flickers them at people in meetings. Jared’s not particularly bright, but he chose the right mother and wife and so now he is going to save the world with the help of several tech bros and a couple guys from Goldman Sachs.

You wanna laugh again?

LEAD ADVISOR. So, you know: the VA, universal broadband, the entire computer system of the United States government aaaaaaaand the Middle East.

We need to pause here and delve into motive and intent, Enthusiasts. Let us state our assumptions first:

A) This is a herculean amount of work, and no human being could possibly succeed at everything; in fact, trying to perform all these tasks would most likely lead to poor performance at all these tasks.

B) These topics each contain an alexandrian amount of information, libraries’ worth, and mastering just one of them would require years of intense study and practice.

C) Any mildly intelligent person would understand A and B intuitively.

D) Jared Kushner is a mildly intelligent person.

And now we can ask our question. Is Jared Kushner: fucking around, not realize how mildly intelligent he is and think he’s capable of all of this, or does he think he’s getting away with something? My vote is C “thinks he’s getting away with something” partially because–like his father-in-law–he’s been getting away with it all his life, but also because he’s testifying in front of a Senate committee next on Thursday because he lied about a meeting he had with that pesky Russian ambassador who I simply cannot believe hasn’t been murdered yet.

The worst thing that ever happened to Little Jared was his father going to jail; if they have anything on him, he’ll turn on his daddy.

Devin Nunes – Oh, no!

There’s no “oh, no” with this guy, it’s all “oh, for fuck’s sake.” Remember when I told you (with no evidence) that when he disappeared the other day, only to emerge with top-secret documents that didn’t back up Turnip’s story but touted as if they did, that he got them from the White House? Yeah: he got them from the White House. The pinhead literally jumped out of a car at a light to go the White House. There were three other people in the car, and he thought no one would notice. Devin thought he was in a spy movie. And then he went to the White House, where they keep records of who comes in and out. You’re not just allowed to walk through the front door even if you’re invited: someone has to come get you, and they write down their name, too.

Devin Nunes is going to jail. I will take any bets that are offered. TotD makes no other predictions, but that man is too stupid to remain free.

This has been the 67th day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.


*The worst kind of dick to take is surprise dick, followed closely by dry.

The Daily Recounting 3/25/17

“Forget about the little shit,” Trump said, according to multiple sources in the room. “Let’s focus on the big picture here.” Politico, 3/24/17

Yes, I know the Recounting is for today’s events, and yes I know that I linked to this incredible article yesterday, and yes yes yes. I don’t care about the rules: I cannot get the above quote out of my head. If you don’t want to read the article–and you must–then let me set the scene.

Donald Trump, who is getting noticeably fatter every day, was meeting with the Freedom Caucus on Thursday afternoon in the Cabinet Room of the White House. It’s him and his crew–Bannon and Miller and Salacious Crumb–and about 30 Republicans around an enormous table.

This is what it looks like:

(You didn’t think I was going to use a picture of Turnip, did you? Come on, man. We can talk about him, but we don’t have to look at him.)

So, that’s what we’re dealing with. Look how serious that room is. Washington’s in a fucking toga; if this were a restaurant, it would not serve chicken fingers. The Cabinet Room does not giggle when someone says the number 69 or talks about the planet Uranus.

It looks just like this-except, obviously, every single person in the room was a white man–and you are a serious person discussing serious matters in a serious room: you are, in fact, discussing healthcare. It is one-fifth of America’s economy, and the President of the United States leans forward on his elbows, squinches up his eyes and splays his fingers out in boredom.

“Forget about the little shit.”

Here’s the question I need answered: could you hear the assholes pucker? When I read that article, my sphincter slammed shut with an audible crack like an iceberg calving off, so I have to figure that if you were in the Cabinet Room you could hear those men’s involuntary anal response to that statement.



“Arteries, shmarteries. I’m gonna get in there and see what happens.”


“The individual pipes will take care of themselves. The sewer is just wonderful. Better than Sweden’s.”

Flight controller

“The planes get here when they get here. The real problem is that they’re carrying terrorists.”

Second violinist for the Cleveland Pops

“Don’t worry about the notes. I know the tune, great tune.”

This has been the 65th day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.

The Daily Recounting 3/24/17

WINNER People who enjoy medical care.

LOSER Paul Ryan, holy shit, Paul Ryan. The last time I saw an L this big, it was in the Hollywood sign. Trust your old pal TotD: there are at least five men in D.C. right now planning a run on the Speaker’s job. I didn’t read that anywhere; it’s not a fact. But you know it’s true, right?

WINNER Not the Democrats, and they ought to knock off the gloating and public preening. They won the fight because the other guy knocked himself out. (Actually, if we go with the boxing analogy, the Republicans didn’t even make it to the ring. Maybe they slipped during the walk in from the dressing room and, like, cracked their head on a chair.) This is a victory for the Democrats, but only because it’s a two-party system

LOSER I simply cannot believe that the Mandarin Moron hasn’t EXPLODED with rage on Twitter yet. Frankly, I’m disappointed. He did cold-call Robert Costa at the Washington Post to break the news that the vote had been called off before the official announcement had been made, though. It’s the little incompetencies that are the sweetest.

(I don’t usually link to anything so as to make it perfectly clear that this is not a reputable place to get your news, but you must read this behind-the-scenes piece by Tim Alberta. Enthusiasts, we may be saved by their stupidity. This presidential administration means us harm, do not doubt that, and they will shit in rivers and pull food from children’s hands, but it is turning out that they might not be able to because they’re just too fucking dumb.)

WINNER Bannon. Paul Ryan is humiliated, chaos is increased, Black Label is on sale at the liquor store. Good times for Stevie.

LOSER Devin Nunes. Nooner used today’s whooptydeedoo to cancel a scheduled hearing, plus he apparently disappeared off the grid for an hour right before he made his unannounced announcement the other day. Remember? He came out with “classified information” that showed Trump Tower had, indeed, been the subject of something called incidental collection. Trump was right, and he said so (as he so often does). The problem is that “incidental collection” isn’t just some random phrase; it means something specific. Incidental collection is when an American citizen calls a foreign national who is under surveillance. Which means Devin just confirmed that, at the very least, the Trump Campaign was calling suspicious motherfuckers.

Oh, also: he got the classified information from the White House, because that’s where he went when he disappeared. The head of the House committee investigating the president is getting sent out to cover for him. This ends well, usually. (Ten bucks says Devin ends up in jail. Any takers?)

WINNER John motherfucking Boehner. Drinking his wine, smoking his butts, and laughing his orange ass off.

LOSER The concept of dignity.

The Daily Recounting 3/23/17

The vote’s not going their way, Enthusiasts, and Paul Ryan and the rest of those ferret-faced babyeaters will wait patiently in line to blame the White House on teevee and the would-be king from Queens is going to pull out his cell phone–actually, Bannon will probably hand it to him, giggling and burping all the while–and Trump is going to his standby: weaponized tweets.

(Although in his defense–and it pains me to defend anything about him–they worked up until very recently. As he said in a recent Time interview, “I’m President, and you’re not.” That is a true statement, in the sense that Jeffrey Dahmer telling people he was going to eat them was a true statement.)

So, in lieu of the usual Recounting, TotD presents Possible Topics Of The Post-Healthcare Vote Tweetstorm:

  • Paul Ryan. (“Cryin’ Ryan is a failure! Couldn’t repeal Obamacare now PEOPLE WILL DIE! Paul Ryan: murderer? #steveking4speaker”)
  • Ivanka. (“Fake News says very smart Ivanka doesn’t deserve WH office. I AM PRESIDNET AND I DECIDE! Ivanka has a great office!”)
  • Congress. (“So-called Congress can’t pass bills! I will issue an EO repealing the terrible Obamacare very soon!”)
  • Obama. (“Muslim Ban judge met with Obama before terrible decision! Was there a payoff?”)
  • Canada. (“C2C w/Art Bell just reported Justin Trudeau ‘wiretapped’ Mar-A-Lago with the help of the Israelis. Sad and sick if true!”)
  • Arnold Schwarzenegger. (“I’m PRESIDNET and he is not! I have informed the IRS to look into Arnold. Let’s see what we find!”)
  • Burger King. (“Fries taste different! Change fries back or I will hold campaign rallies at McDonald’s!”)
  • Rosie O’Donnell. (“People think I have forgotten about Disgusting Rosie BUT I HAVE NOT. Still very fat and no career.”)
  • Paul Manafort. (“Fake News CNN keeps saying I knew Paul Manafort. I have never met Paul Manafort. Such dishonesty!”)
  • Freedom Caucus. (“Freedom Caucus wants to destroy America! Are they traitors? I am going to tapp their offices!”)
  • London. (“London elects Muslim mayor, then there’s a terror attack? Just common sense!”)
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