my jaundiced eye

the absurdities of life

Category: politics

summit or sand trap?

Summit or abyss?-1

Holy mother of pearl… how in less than a day did the conald manage to piss off all of our closest allies, basically telling them to go fork themselves, because we are goddam america and we don’t need you pathetic needy pipsqueaks. Not in the trenches, not in the foxholes, not in the deserts of the middle east and especially not in any trading partnerships. The photo of merkel and macron leaning over the table giving our petulant president a what for really said it all. But honey badger, he don’t give a shit.

The conald ditched out early from the g-7 (or g-6 as it is now being called since he made it plain that poppa’s got a brand new bag o’ of totalitarian bitches to hang with) because he was itching to jet to singapore for an historic tete a tete with kimchee, the infamous two bit dictator who imprisons and kills his own people (and familial competitors) not to mention threatens the world with nuclear annihilation. Totally get it. Our own dear leader, the “dealmaker” in chief, who could in his own words tell within 60 seconds if this “summit” had been worth the time and effort, apparently had his signals jammed by the north koreans or the chinese or both because it took him almost ten minutes to fold like a cheap suitcase and get zippo from kimchee in return…talk about a singapore sling! No more military exercises with the south koreans, sure whatever, relax the sanctions, why not, and most importantly the possibility of a trump golf resort in what is currently a wasteland devoid of vegetation or anything else the starving north koreans could get their hands on, absolutely! Cheap real estate and an even cheaper experienced hard working labor force, straight from the gulags. Let’s make a deal!

After the meeting the conald and kimchee did the secret handshake and stood shoulder to shoulder smiling before an array of flags of both nations. The conald beaming because he thought he’d just nailed that nobel thing and kimchee smiling because he couldn’t believe how easy it was to buffalo this idiot. He had to be thinking, can you believe this guy’s standing next to me smiling like a miss universe contestant when I’ve just picked both his pockets, in front of the entire world? Hilarious! And btw you should have seen how he begged me to tell him the secret to getting all my people to idolize me and paint my face on everything when all he could get was a few lousy gold plated signs (that he had to pay for) in front of a couple of crummy buildings. And damn he was positively horny for my military parades.

Smile on kimchee you have absolutely earned the right to gloat. Our president’s misguided belief in his own invincibility won’t allow him to entertain the notion that he’s been played, that he didn’t win the game. That he is a loser. Wait, what? That’s impossible in trumpworld! Didn’t happen, could never happen. The conald may not have mastered the ability to get all americans to exhibit the blind idolatry of the people of north korea yet but he’s certainly learned one thing: the art of creating propaganda flicks that extol his absolute superiority, despite all evidence to the contrary. All you doubting thomases out there,  how about you get comfy in your barcaloungers and watch  his team’s cringe worthy cinematic celebration of his incredible summit victory and learn the real truth.

Cue the painters!

 

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hamburger heaven

hamburger heaven

Well thanks to yet another tragic disappointment at the hands of big brother technology MJE has missed about 2000 news cycles since last week. So, this post is being updated to reflect the deviation in the earth’s rotation caused by the united states of america’s declaration of independence from the tectonic shift theory in order to become its own continent. Thanks for the memories, mexico and canada…we’re moving on uptown to north korea.

It seems as though the wedding’s back on! Guess we can put that nuclear shotgun back on the rack for the time being. But oh me oh my, the bromance between kimchee and the conald has had more offs and ons than the best little whorehouse in texas. For god’s sake, the conald even sucked up to the dimpled despot, asked him for the name of his stylist, complimented his generals’ yuge medals, and yuge hats, and confided that he thought kimchee’s sister was every bit as smoking hot as his daughter e-vanka. Kimchee however played it cool, after all the conald was doing exactly what he wanted him to do, why mess with success. Their courtship was important to each of them for wildly different reasons. Kimchee wanted worldwide validation of his tyrannical regime, his status elevated to that of the president of the united states, and most importantly a burger joint in pyongyang. The conald wanted a nobel prize, bigly. He wasn’t sure what that is exactly but fox and friends said he deserved one and he heard that obama had one so he should damn well get one too. Sadly michael cohen was unavailable just at at the moment, but man, back in the day he and his home equity line of credit could fix just about anything.

The conald, in a classic art of the deal opening gambit gave kimchee precisely what he craved, except for the burger joint, and he never had to lift one pudgy digit to get it. Seemingly unaware of his bone headed move, the conald crowed about his intention to meet with rocket man and get him that burger franchise suggesting that “my conald’s” might be a branding gold mine, helpfully offering a crapload of capital from some of his vc pals in moscow. He even dangled a kimchee apprentice type show as a sweetener but with more of a survivor theme, and if he gave up his nuclear arsenal well that would be okay too. The conald even picked a date and a venue although MJE thought it seemed a bit premature to order the boutonnieres and book the dj before he’d even been introduced to his intended. No wonder kimchee ‘s ardor waned, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Plus he’s pretty used to being the only fat bully calling the shots. Nobody puts this baby despot in a corner.

So as his opening parry kimchee did absolutely nothing. He simply had his guys blow off the initial planning meeting. told them to take a chill pill and curl up with some good pyongyang propaganda porn. Ha, ha how do you like that you arrogant orange bossy pants, you want it so bad, you’ll need to put up more than dinner and a movie. Of course, the conald never admits that he has ever been outfoxed so he made like he was the one who cancelled the meeting. Unfortunately kimchee’s snub had already been widely reported. No, no, no!!! fake news, fake news, deep state, uh corrupt lying main stream media! cried the conald. I dropped him before he dropped me, oh nuh unh no you didn’t, I dropped him first, oh yeah well…hey everybody…cat fight in the girl’s bathroom!!!

It was probably not helpful to have the vp and ss brownshirt lookalike spouting off that this deal would be like the one we did in lybia. Despite the fact that north korea is hermetically sealed, kimchee had probably heard that gadaffi agreed to give up his nukes only to get himself dragged out of a sewerage pipe, bayonetted in the bottom then shot to death. So despite the bootlicking it’s unclear where this may end up. The latest move was however a balm for the conald’s frayed ego, when north korea sent their next to worst person in that country to hand deliver a really big envelope puportedly from kimchee himself to get the negotiations back on track. Hmm, look who’s horney now? does make one wonder what they might be up to…so very eager. Maybe a relaxation of their sanctions, that dream of a burger joint empire, skimming money off e-vanka boutiques in pyongyang and a trump tower in the dmz? How about let’s get that deal done and we’ll move on to that boring nuke stuff later.

So the caterer is back on the docket, the flowers and music nailed down and trump tower singapore booked solid as we wait with bated breath for the next volley in this hair raising pying pyong game.

 

 

chewey, phooey, kaflooey and how

chewy phooey kaflooey and how

What is it with the conald and his attorneys, he hires them, goon shakes their hands for the cameras, and in a matter of months he just wants them to pick up their goddam clothes and hair products and get the hell out. Where is he finding these guys, tinder? He seems to vet his mouthpieces with the same care with which he vets his cabinet nominees. He probably overheard some yo yo bragging about how his great lawyer got him out of a speeding ticket and slam bam thank you mam, he’s the next rookie drafted by team tump. Just recently yet another one of his lawyers ran for the hills and was replaced with not one but two more. One is a new face on the scene, poor mr. flud who looks like he unwittingly wandered out of a brooks brothers catalogue. Not long for the rough and tumble of trump world, I suspect. But what ho! the conald’s also brought on chewliani the reptilian hunchback as his chief defensive tackle and attack dog.

Wouldn’t you love to be a dung beetle on the wall when meuller starts questioning the conald with that pit bull chewliani scowling and growling at his side, baring his prodigious gums in anticipation of the rumble ahead.

Looming across the table sits zen master mewler patiently waiting for the games to begin. He poses his first question:

“Mr. president who…”

Chewey cuts him off, snarling that his question is way outside of the authorized scope of his investigation and the president will not respond.

“Mr. president what…”

Chewey interrupts and growls that that question too is outside of the authorized scope of the investigation and the president will not respond.

“Mr. president where…”

Chewey hurriedly shambles to his feet, slams his fist on the table and bellows that he is fast losing his patience with this area of questioning and will not tolerate it, warning that he will remove his client from the room and discontinue any further queries if it continues.

“Mr. president when…”

At this, chewey’s cranium seems to detonate, forcing his thyroid eyes so far out of his cadaverous face that they push his trifocals off the end of his beak onto the conference table. His face turns the color of a bowl of borscht and he begins furiously sputtering in righteous indignation, his histrionics amplifying his speech impediment, reducing his frenetic rant to a series of spittle-laden squawks.

“Mr. presi….”

Finally chewey’s head literally begins to spin around. He collapses under the table, madly crab walks around the floor, and furiously scuttles out of the deposition room leaving the conald alone, directly across the table from the preternaturally placid mr. mewler. The unperturbed prosecutor quietly asks if the president would care to continue in the absence of his attorney.

The conald can feel the force within him grow, his ego and narcissism coalescing into a palpable sensation of incandescence. He is on fire. He is invincible. No one can get the best of him. He is smarter than anyone else. He always wins. He will wipe the filthy spit covered floor with this ridiculous bureaucratic hack just like he did with the losers who tried to get paid for the shoddy work they did on his condos and casino.

Like a gladiator in the arena, he can’t wait for the chute to open, the lions released and the battle joined. With absolute confidence in his infallibility, the conald crosses his arms, smirks and says, sure, why not. The hint of a smile crosses mr. mewler’s poker face as he begins the questions anew.

empathizer in chief? SAD!

be still thy beating heart-1

If our president cannot display heartfelt compassion and empathy after a tragedy like that which took place in parkland florida last week what the hell could possibly move him? Wait I know, getting impeached and or indicted for conspiring with the russians and money laundering, bet that would get him good and choked up.

The speech he gave to the nation after the massacre was almost painful to listen to. It was so patently obvious that he didn’t give two figs about those kids and he just did it because the president is expected to say something. The only thing missing from his tepid remarks was a plug for mar-a-lago. I suspect the wordsmith for this bit of synthetic pathos was none other than stephen ‘lead lids’ miller. It had all the hallmarks of his typical homilies and his own personal style of delivery; plodding, pedantic, condescending, and completely and utterly devoid of any human feeling. It was almost laughably hypocritical, “answer hate with love,answer cruelty with kindness” telling the audience how important it is to “make deep human connections”, uhhh, haven’t seen any sign that the conald follows that sage advice in his own life. He then addressed the children directly saying “you may feel lost, alone, confused or even scared.” Gee ya think? Yet another nut case sauntered into a school and gunned down seventeen people and wounded a score more with an easily (legally) acquired automatic weapon and kids might be feeling scared? Wow, how perceptive conald, you really nailed that one.

From then on it was a laundry list of the officials he was to meet with which I suppose was meant to demonstrate the depth of his concern to the grieving parents and schoolmates. Maybe it’s just me, but if my child had just been killed in his or her classroom I don’t think having the president meet with the nations governors and attorneys general (at what was without doubt a previously planned confab) would provide too much balm for my broken heart. Unless of course if gun control might be on the agenda which it almost certainly will not.

Perhaps the fact that he and melanoma delayed their weekend getaway at mar-a-lago by a couple of hours (and a round of golf) to zip over to parkland offered them the solace they need from their president. Or not.

fired and furious

fired

It is never wise to turn your back on a poison toad (genus bufo) or to lick his back for that matter. Toads are notoriously vengeful and easily slighted. They are particularly sensitive to comments about their personal appearance, warts specifically, as well as their grooming habits. Any criticism of their intellect, strategic political acumen, or past business success will be met with fire and fury the world has never seen.

Bufo bannonensus was at one time the white house top toad and the most important amphibian in the world. He squatted on the shoulder of the president and acted as his most trusted advisor. Because the current occupant of the oval office is a pretty empty vessel, bufo banno was able to whisper noxious notions into his ear and help tailor american policies to his nationalistic and xenophobic world-view.

Bufo banno was dead set against draining the swamp for obvious reasons, no amphibian with half a brain, is going to deliberately obliterate his own habitat. Hell no, he’s gonna fill that sucker up with like-minded creatures with whom he can easily machinate and maneuver the levers of power. Bufo banno became the apex amphibian for a reason, brother.

A large part of bufo banno’s ideology that the hominid president seemed to find attractive is territoriality and the exclusion of what are considered to be lesser species. Frogs, newts, and salamanders need not apply. The big bufo believes that in the ideal ecosystem there would be an actual wall around his personal space whose perimeters he considers to currently be way too porous. He does not subscribe to what he regards as the misguided notion that a diverse population is beneficial to the overall health and well being of any environment. He views those who support that theory as nothing more than a bunch of loser reptilians bitching about their lot.

Bufo banno also thinks that it’s high time our swamp quit subsidizing other less fecund wetlands. Not our problem. His message is “get your act together, show some initiative you pathetic parasites …we’ve done everything we can to underfund regulatory agencies and peacekeeping organizations, support autocratic regimes, extract ourselves from onerous goody two shoes alliances, not to mention abandoning our allies, so as we toads like to say, hop to it. “

In an amazing twist of fate big bufo got himself thrown out of the swamp, he apparently was too fetid for even that morass. Yet despite his absence the muck continues to ooze along just fine. Turns out that poison toads are a dime a dozen in washington. But two things that make big bufo both unique and particularly dangerous is that he knows who did what to whom and where they dumped all the carcasses. And last, but by no means least, he can sing like a veritable canary when threatened.

MJE strongly advises her readers and their loved ones to steer clear of poison toads and, no matter how tempting, and not to lick them. Ever.

meeting, what meeting

rooskie meeting-1

MJE has serious whiplash from the avalanche of absurdities that tumble out of the trumposhere on a daily or often hourly basis. The newest entry is right smack out of a rocky and bullwinkle cartoon. Just to bring MJE readers up to speed on the inhabitants of that fictional world I include below a short rundown:

 The lead characters and heroes of the series were Rocket “Rocky” J. Squirrel, a flying squirrel, and his best friend Bullwinkle J. Moose, a dim-witted but good-natured moose. The scheming villains in most episodes were the fiendish spies Boris Badenov, a pun on Boris Godunov, and Natasha Fatale, a pun on femme fatale. Other characters included Fearless Leader, the dictator of the fictitious nation of Pottsylvania and Boris and Natasha’s superiors, Gidney & Cloyd, little green men from the moon who were armed with scrooch guns; Captain Peter “Wrongway” Peachfuzz, the captain of the S.S. Andalusia; various U.S. government bureaucrats and politicians (such as Senator Fussmussen, a recurring character who opposed admitting Alaska and Hawaii to the union on grounds of his own xenophobia).

The latest real life rhubarb is a doozy. It starts with gob gallstone, our boris in this taudry tale. Gallstone is a corpulent music producer who works in russia and who has a history with donjo. He sets up a meeting with an alluring rooskie lawyer, ms putineska (our natasha) to hatch a plot to procure a compliant idiot (that would be our badass bullwinkle) inside the white house to be a submissive partner with pootin (fearless leader). Admittedly the list of potentially pliable quislings is boundless but they ultimately settled on donjo, the morally and intellectually challenged #1son of our dear leader. Boris dangled the offer of some of shrillary’s dirty knickers to entice donjo into meeting with an ever-growing list of sketchy slavs. The revelation of this meeting comes after months of righteous indignation from all conald-related hacks at the widely held suspicion that there was collusion between the conald’s campaign and russia.

MJE would like to put forth an hypothesis: the louder the conald & co.’s outrage over any given fact, the greater the likelihood it is true.

After being outed by the fake news purveyor new york times, donjo admitted that he, his bro-in-law jarred and the conald’s campaign manager pall manafart (a man too sleazy to even warrant a cartoon character) did indeed meet with ms. putineska among others. The rest of the colorful cast of characters crammed into this clown car include a russian pop star, a russian lobbyist and a translator. But there’s more! Turds continue to bob to the surface with every passing hour. The latest of which was interestingly enough, a rooskie real estate magnate with an unsavory history of laundering rubles through, among other things, fake bank accounts in delaware and, wait for it! acquiring properties in manhattan. Which brings us back to dough-re-mi…(with apologies to julie andrews).

The fat lady ain’t sung yet my friends, but MJE is pretty sure that the entire conald-pootin bromance begins and ends with one thing and one thing only: personal enrichment.

 

 

founding fathers

founding fathers-1

Lordy, 4th of July done and gone, this year Independence day felt more like a national day of mourning instead of a day to celebrate our throwing off the yoke of twitter tyranny. Founding fathers, if you’re listening, please send up a flare, because we sure as hell we need some help down here. Of course, you lot only had to break away from an empire, fight a bloody war, establish a new country based on democratic ideals, codify those in a constitution and bill of rights meant to endure through the ages and finally create a unified nation of peoples who were in most cases more different than alike.

It’s quite another thing to combat an endless barrage of electronic lunacy emanating from an increasingly unhinged president delivered in bursts of 140 characters. Talk about mismatched adversaries! It’s like fighting a thousand acre wildfire fire with an iv drip. Founding fathers, I know this doesn’t make any sense to you, well join the club.

Quick recap: last year lots of people in the country were mad at their elected representatives and government, they wanted to have a president who knew as much about the three branches of government and how they work as they do so they voted for a person they had seen on a thing called a tv. With me so far? What they didn’t realize is that person they saw on the tv was just acting like someone who was capable of running our country but who really just wanted lots of people to tell him how terrific they thought he was. He promised everything everyone wanted to everybody and they were so excited that they chanted “make america great again!” I apologize. That must be hurtful to hear, take a moment if you need it.

So we now have a president who knows virtually nothing about governing, is not interested in finding out anything about it and who’s single most driving life force is feeding his fragile ego. But, props to you guys (in hindsight, coulda had a woman in there but that’s a discussion for another day) you set things up in such a way that the president, even one as potentially harmful to the republic as this one, cannot sink the ship of state by himself. He needs help from congress and the supreme court. And this is where we seem to be in a potentially wicked pickle, because both houses of congress and the supreme court are nominally on the same political side as the president.

So what do we do now? MJE believes that things will eventually sort themselves out but a lot of damage can be done in the meantime. People will realize that all those promises they were so desperate to believe were just a trick to get their votes. And others who were so angry about government being overly involved in their lives will start to lose the safety nets it provides like health insurance, help paying for food, medical care for the poor, housing assistance, loans to pay for education, financial protection for the elderly and many more. Well technically, founding fathers, you don’t get full credit for those things but you did create a democratic society that encouraged them to exist. So an assist on that.

Because, after all, you pretty much spelled it out right from the get go:

We the people of the united states, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity do ordain and establish this constitution of the united states of america. Then frankly you got into the weeds…not to be critical but it is a bit wordy, and sadly people just don’t have the attention spans they used to. Think bullet points.

My guess is that your advice to mje would be something along the lines of don’t just talk the talk, walk the walk girlfriend, Go put on your big girl pantalets and get moving.

Got it.

Hope you don’t mind if I check back every so often, I do feel better. Thanks.

the fawning of america

the fawning of america-1

MJE continues to be flabbergasted at what lengths the conald will go to quench his insatiable desire for adulation. The latest incident involved a cabinet meeting that was presumably meant to be an important discussion of pressing matters of state but was perverted by the conald into a cringe-worthy display of political masturbation.

Generally speaking cabinet meetings are pretty weighty occasions and not thrown open to the press, but as we all know the conald never misses an opportunity to exaggerate his accomplishments or seek affirmation. With that in mind, the meeting opened with the conald blathering at length that he has accomplished more than any other president in us history (he threw a bone to fdr and his handling of the depression, etc) so early in his presidency, despite any actual legislative action. He extoled his many take charge executive orders like rolling back job and people killing regulations. The reduction of government’s obligation to preserve clean air and water is a twofer, it reduces government expense and if people die, hey they are no longer jobless! The art of the deal indeed.

The cabinet members were reduced to fawning toadies. For all intents and purposes it could have been a collection of north korean lackeys addressing their dear leader. One by one they tried to outdo each other in a bizarre limbo land of how low can you go.

VP pap declared that even jesus’s miracles pale in comparison to what the conald has done. Water into wine, meh, what good does that do for teetotalers like el presidente, way more impressive is keeping religious competitors out of our country. Rinse Prebot, chief of staff declared that he had changed his sixteen year old son’s name from madison to donald and is working on a combover in tribute to his incredible boss. Wrecks Dullerson, our reclusive secretary of state, announced that he was divorcing his boring wife of 38 years and was actively wooing young eastern european beauties via tinder. He was happy to report that he has several great prospects lined up and effusively thanked the conald for being such a fantastic role model. Round and round went the revolting group grab ass, each expression of adoration eliciting a nod and smile from our own dear leader.

So this is what america’s top dogs have been reduced to, a bunch of bootlicking flunkeys who have abandoned all self-respect and permanently tainted their reputations in obeisance to a person who deserves absolutely none of it. Yo, what about their obligations to the american citizens whom they are duty bound to serve?

Get off your damned knees, stand up and speak truth to power, you cowards.

howdy saudi

 

howdy saudi

Whew, the trump circus has skipped town, and not a moment too soon. Literally the entire white house staff is going along on this trip, it makes one wonder who’s left in dc to run the ship of state, oh right, pap’s here. Every one of the white house toadies are clinging to our ape in chief like those iron filings that clump around a metal stylus to form a beard on a cartoon man’s face. They are terrified that the moment they are not right next to el presidente one of their colleagues is going to finger them for leaking or lying or even worse telling the truth to some news outlet.

Most experienced politicians who are elected president plan a soft-ball trip as their first foreign state visit, to get to know the territory, protocols, logistics, brush up on the culture, etc.  however, in true trump fashion it’s balls to the wall and screw all that crap. He’s hitting saudi arabia, israel, italy and the vatican (a two fer) and belguim which he once described as a “beautiful city.” If he weren’t coming bearing billions in military contracts, aid or other us largesse I suspect that his reception might be less than cordial considering he has offended most of the people in most of the countries he’s visiting.

On touch down in riyadh the conald was greeted by king salmon himself resplendent in dazzling white (800m thread count egyptian cotton) robes and a head dress held in place by a classic basic black bungee. Trump’s attire for his first foreign state visit did not vary from his go-to navy men’s warehouse suit because why mess with success? Melanoma opted for an all black wide legged onesy, sort of like an abaya but with a bit more panache and a clue to the fact that women do have two legs, and something super special in between too! I suppose black was a respectful nod to the local saudi custom of wrapping their women in dark polyester, but the squint eyed fashionista of fifth avenue couldn’t resist a bit of bling, accessorizing with a foot wide gold lame belt. As much as the conald loves all things gilt, I doubt even he can match the saudis, and frankly it’s really not good manners to try to beat your hosts at their own game. King salmon awarded the conald the gilded collar of abdulaziz al saud, saudi arabia’s highest civilian honor, which dazzled him bigly, probably unaware that there might be a connection between it and the $100B military sales package he inked a few hours later. I did see a video of him and the (male) members of his cabinet awkwardly swaying to a traditional ardha saudi sword dance. Wincing in embarrassment, and perhaps pain at having to keep lifting a pretty heavy sword, he looked like a clumsy adolescent at his first co-ed, but since the intent of the dance is to “re-pledge allegiance to the king” he really should have been partying like it’s 1999.

In his speech to the assembled gingham shrouded heads of state he sounded almost rational, albeit heavily medicated, making just the right noises about how terrorism is a perversion of islam and we all just need to be friends to combat these bad eggs, yada, yada, yada. It was what a cd of trump the campaigner would sound like if it were played backwards. Mind you he does have that muslim ban on hold out in the 9th circuit…wouldn’t it have been a hoot if just as he was speaking, al jazeera interrupted with breaking news that the ban had been re-instituted. AWKWARD.

Stay tuned.

seven days in may…

what a week

MJE has been recently compelled to work triple time, which I resent, to find anything humorous about what the hell is happening in our country at the moment. It wasn’t bad enough that the lily livered, mean spirited repubes folded like cheap suitcases to take health care coverage away from millions of americans. Admittedly under tony soprano worthy muscle from the congressional brute squad led ironically by nerdroid ryan and our scary clown president, who knows about as much about the legislative process as he does about setting the thermostat at mar a lago.

In typical trumpian fashion, our dear leader demanded that this poorly drafted wealthcare bill be jammed through the house minus a CBO score or even having been read by the people who voted for it. Furthermore, this craven bunch was subsequently feted at a celebratory kegger in the rose garden hosted by el presidente, apparently unaware that it takes two to tango when it comes to actually passing legislation. It is perversely comforting that the sniveling scrooges in the house who voted for this bill now cannot even go back to their districts for fear of being jeered off their town hall stages by their constituents.

But it gets so much better, or worse. These guys (literally, almost entirely, white men) walked the proverbial political plank to give a “win” to a president who, before the beer pong table was even cleared, fired the head of the fbi without cause, an act which is virtually unprecedented in american history. He then reverse-engineered the dismissal to justify his action with some sort of fig leaf memorandum drawn up by a.g. assassions (who had pledged to recuse himself from anything regarding russia and trump) and the formerly well respected deputy a.g. ohnosenstein. Trump’s true rationale, in his own words a few days later, was that comey was already a gone pecan because wouldn’t quash the “fake news” probe into russian involvement with his campaign. Inevitably and almost immediately, his inconsistencies and prevarications were promptly outed, resulting in, what else, a series of looney trump tweets, which will henceforth be referred to as twurps, making veiled threats aimed at anyone who might be tempted to leak information contrary to his fictional assertions. Dicey spicey was thanking his lucky stars that he was away from the podium during this debacle fulfilling his national guard obligation. Unsubstantiated, but entirely credible reports are that as soon as he his commitment was concluded he made a beeline to the army recruiting station to re-up for four years on the front line in our new offensive in afganistan. In his absence honey boo boo huckabee was trotted out to spread trump’s gospel of the alternative fact. Lordy girl yur pappy is a preacher, you had better log some hard time in the pew this sunday.

MJE is not a trained fire fighter, except with regard to domestic flare-ups, but even I know that it isn’t wise to throw gasoline on a smoldering fire that you wish to extinguish. Trump however, who in his own mind is a master salesman who can control any narrative, made a boner move in believing that sacking the director of the fbi would somehow divert attention from the mushrooming evidence of russian collusion. But like a lemming racing for the cliff, he just could not put on the brakes, in fact he stomped on the accelerator with his contention in comey’s letter of dismissal, the nonsensical assertion that comey had assured him, on three separate occasions, that he is not under investigation. MJE strongly advises that you give your gawping shovel mouth a rest and quit digging.

Conald, conald conald…this isn’t the sleazy new jersey real estate market you used to game. You have landed yourself unwittingly, in the oval office as the leader of the free world, god help us all. It is arguably the single most powerful position on the planet, but one whose authority, as designed by the framers of the constitution is constrained by two other co-equal branches of government. Too bad they didn’t write that document in a series of tweets, in which case you might be aware of that.

MJE is setting the impeachment clock. Tick tock, tick tock.