Misty water colored mem’ries
Uh-oh. The boys are fuckin’ up.
Yes, I had a real nice column all set for this week, a quick tour of some lovely Nevada spots to visit during the sunny heat of July, and it certainly would have been a pleasant enough time-out in its own escapist way. But then, Junior put his balls in a vise, and, well, maybe next week for rivers/lakes.
You just gotta figure, though, that Old Man Twitler has about had it up to here with his sons shootin’ off their big yaps about various Russiananigans. I mean, first, golf writer James Dodson remembered Eric in 2014 boasting about how it was Russian dough that was financing Trump golf course projects, and then move over Rover and let Junior take over as he chimes in with this new tale about the lady lawyer from Moscow where he, Manafort and Jared are all licking their chops for some yummy Hillary slime, and you can just imagine Dum Dum by now sitting in the Oval Office and slapping his forehead and yelling about how it’d be nice if, at the very least, his own immediate fucking family wasn’t leaking juicy shit to the goddamn New York Times, and Ivanka is right there texting at her brothers and husband that the time for heads to pop out of rear ends is pretty much right this very goddamn second.
Doggone it, these people are just so forgetful! You got Sessions going, “Oh yeah, I forgot that meeting with that big Russian dude.” You got Jared going, “Oh yeah, I forgot that first meeting with that big Russian dude, and, oh, nuts, I forgot that other one and dadgummit you’re right, there was that banker guy, that one just musta slipped my mind.” You’ve got Flynn going, “Oh, you mean all those meetings?” plus his classic, “Oh, for god’s sake, can you believe that? I forgot I was working for Turkey! Silly me!” All these guys, covering shit up, always hiding something, never “remembering” any meetings involving Russians UNTIL THEY READ ABOUT THEM IN THE NEW YORK TIMES AND THE WASHINGTON POST. Then, it’s “Oh yeah. I remember now! Sorry! But really, nothing to see here! Fake news, fake news, lie, lie, spit up!”
You’ve got world leaders at the G20, not just worried about Trump’s alarming incompetence and cloddish boobitude, but also about his basic sanity, which is, you know, kinda heavy. Enjoy your fake president, Trumplodytes. Not sure how much time he’s got left before self-immolation takes place. And thanks! Thanks a heap!