Slow roast

I will give Dum Dum credit. He does indeed have one great talent, one he uses and oozes on a nearly daily basis. That’s the ability to piss me off, and piss me off good. I mean, the man is a stone cold savant in bringin’ on the apoplexy! I have a wild hunch you might know exactly where I’m coming from. If, for example, you yell at the TV every freakin’ day something along the lines of “Bleep you, you bleeping bleephole!” then we are together in Twitler-twisted solidarity. (Maybe you’re more colorfully creative with your curses—“May the tapeworms of Satan find comfort in your colon, hellish oaf man! May the eggs of a thousand earwigs hatch in your earhole, jive turkey president!”)

Don’t fear your hate. Don’t hate your hate. Don’t be ashamed of it. Your loathing of Don Don and the execrable GOP is pure. It’s powerful. It’s strong. Embrace the hate. Be liberated by it. Be inspired by it. Our hatred is righteous. Our hatred is beautiful. Indeed, our hatred identifies us as real patriots who honestly give a flaming fig about America. Our hatred will, awesomely enough, SAVE THE GODDAMN COUNTRY.

Well, it will if we get off our asses and vote every one of these villainous Repub lickspittles out of office. That, of course, means Heller and Amodei, two of the numerous enablers who don’t dare ruffle the scruff of Putin’s prized puppy. The Election of The Ages is in about 100 days. Just remember that if we Democrats take back the House of Representatives, we can hound, hassle and harangue Dum Dum into a total foam, reducing him to a raving, drooling, tweeting frenzy of frustration. We can Benghazi his ass so relentlessly that we won’t want to impeach him. Seriously! It’ll be way too entertaining to slow roast him on a rotisserie fueled with all kinds of juicy investigations involving (1) collusion, (2) obstruction, (3) emoluments, (4) porn star payoffs, (5) campaign financial crimes, and—the biggest daddy of them all—(6) mind-blowing felonies of the realm of oligarch money laundering. (Trump doesn’t give a shit about the pee pee tape. Nope, it’s the billions in money laundering that’s the really good action.)

Remember the good ole days, when pissy Republicans would call us “commie pinkos?” So now who are their precious pals and partners, whom they line up to protect, coddle and butt-smooch? Commie mutherfuckin’ pinkos! As Sly Stone once said, “Life. It melts in your mind.”

And quietly, without fanfare, Mr. Mueller and his team prepare their august surprises.