Too true to be good
It would be high comedy if it wasn’t so completely infuriating. When Eddie Munster Ryan defended Trump’s nonstop ineptitude by saying, “Hey, give the guy a break, he’s new to all this, you know, he’s learning,” the appropriate response was way beyond the instant, incredulous, “Say what?” that undoubtedly exploded from the mouths of millions. We have to also pause and consider how Republicans would have responded if some Dem had offered a similar lameass defense in early 2009, when new President Obama was having to deal with the gigantic economic grease fire left for him by Dubya and Darth.
A pleasure to see that two attorneys generals, from D.C. and Maryland, just slapped Dum Dum with another emoluments lawsuit. We can’t have enough of these actions jammed up Twitler’s tailpipe. The more of these suits he has to wrangle with, the less time he has to pretend being President. Considering his still dead travel ban and his detestable POS health care bill, this is very good for America.
Right now, the best thing for us reasonable people is for Washington to be completely paralyzed and totally dysfunctional. I sleep much better at night knowing both zero and zilch got done in Washington to MAGA.
Trump has openly, brazenly and blatantly flipped the bird at the concept of emoluments from the first minute he took office. It’s only right that the founding fathers finally get their day in court to slap some sense into this oafish lout. And then, demand the goddamned tax returns.
It’s time to acknowledge the power and performance of our precious fourth estate—the press. (The first three “estates” are the clergy, the nobility and the commoners.) Without the remarkable digging, probing and snooping of dozens of diligent and relentless reporters—led by the brilliant twin beacons of the New York Times and Washington Post, but also including AP, Reuters, the Guardian and the major television networks—we would be completely at the mercy of this hideous lummox and his detestable GOP henchmen, whose members vie amongst themselves to see who’s the next lucky lackey who gets to plant the next hickey on Trump’s fat, mottled ass. (“Ooh, me, me, Paul, pick me, pick me!”)
Journalists are single-handedly saving the country and the planet from this dangerous chowderhead and his deplorable zombies, with absolutely no help at all from the invertebrate Republican enablers in Congress. It’s a heroic battle we’re watching play out bit by bit, day by day, story by story.