I know everybody’s scared to jinx it, but you have to admit it’s getting downright vibe-shifty in here. I suppose it’s possible the pollsters are under-sampling likely voters who hate affordable gas, but until they figure out how to tariff hopium, I intend to indulge.

And don’t forget, all the approvals and generic congressionals and head-to-heads you’re seeing this week are before the record diesel spike trickles down to every American grocery store. In hindsight, perhaps outsourcing oil pricing to the Death to America crowd was a strategic error.

Whoever dreamed up that wacky “affordability” word sure knew what they were doing. Probably the funnest thing about having a mad king is paying more for stuff. Sometimes it’s because he’s dumb and starts trade wars, and sometimes it’s because he’s dumb and starts regular wars, but you can count on the dumbness and the paying more.

Plenty of room to get even dumber and more expensive, too. Maybe he’ll cut off all trade with Europe. Maybe he’ll ban fishing. Maybe he’ll order the army to go house to house confiscating all the shoes so we have to buy new ones because that way he could tell everybody he saved the shoe industry.

We’ll miss him when he’s gone, though. The hurricanes will come back, for starters. Then it’s locusts. Caravans. Transgender for everyone. Fast food packaging that differs from that of my childhood. Plus, if this AI stuff turns Terminator after all, we’ll need a high-IQ president, and I can’t think of anybody who’s taken more cognitive exams.

But hey, maybe the plot twist is that Natalie saves us all by printing out so much ballroom/Kennedy Center content that he falls asleep before he can get to Stephen Miller’s no doubt detailed memos urging ICE deployment to “urban” polling stations.

For all his shortcomings, when he wants to see his name on a better man’s memorial, he can be really quite persistent. Either Temu Ahab gets his white whale or it’s surprise demolition time again, huh? Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if all this ended with a Disney villain plummet off that scaffolding because he snuck out in the middle of the night to scrawl DONULD in crayon.

We could handle JD for a couple years. Whimpering for another chance is probably about as good as it gets for MAGA’s rotting remnants.

Because even Mike Johnson can no longer keep the floor of the House open without impeaching Pete Hegseth. Isn’t that refreshingly rational? The only people who actually want Hegseth in that job are autocrats opposed to American democracy; it’s unfortunate that one happens to be president.

Almost everything I know about global shipping routes I’ve learned by watching them fall to Middle Eastern extremists on Petey Push-ups’ watch. They’re having a ball over there because they know he doesn’t have enough ammunition left to do anything about it, but don’t worry, the important thing is that the “no fatties” rule will be enforced at his big speech.

Somehow, it’s just easier to lie about casualties to thin people, y’know? Anyway, if a man’s socks are fun enough, who really cares how many bases he loses? Court-martial the warfighters who leaked those photos, by the way. They can bunk with those sailors who got so mouthy about their so-called “food shortages.”

Also, is there room in the stocks for an AI chatbot? Because apparently we’ve got one that damn near led us into a shooting war with China. Jeepers creepers, if we don’t impeach this dweeb, we’re gonna wind up sacked by Visigoths.   

Two fun things Russia has been doing at the same time are A) helping Iran target our bases and B) paying for Don Jr.’s wedding. Yeah, drop seventy grand on fireworks, and the president lets you blow up American troops. That probably seems low to you, but you don’t understand how much Junior likes his sparklies.

We have “pardon brokers” now, in our exceptionally healthy democracy. Didn’t see that one comin’, didja, Madison? I bet pardon brokers can afford gas. I bet they get to shop at fancy stores where the popsicles have hardly any glass at all.

They’re recalling soap now. SOAP. Hand soap has been recalled in fifteen states “over bacterial contamination fears,” which is something that can happen to soap, apparently. I never imagined. You know you’re in a golden age when you can get sick from washing your hands.

Conventional wisdom says a midterm election is a referendum on the party in power, and I can see how that idea might not appeal to people who made blueberries and soap unsafe, but they can always campaign at these measles funerals.

Or you could…y’know…break with Trump. Quietly delete his name from your campaign site. Shit, Maria Elvira Salazar cut a whole-ass ad, and she hasn’t been visited by a single nail gun- or even hammer-wielding psychopath.

Why, the Dotard has finally grown unpopular enough for Erick Erickson to notice some of the naughtiness within his coalition! Racist naughtiness! FASCIST naughtiness, even! How Erick failed to notice this naughtiness at any point during the decade before the Senate map expanded so dramatically is a question best left to those who study the science of noticing things.

Because yes, would-be Texas Railroad Commissioner Bo French is an odious little bigot, but don’t act like he’s an outlier. You’re running one of the Charlottesville dorks for the state House in Florida. Greg Bovino’s been on a tour of European ultranationalist hazing rituals since losing his job to slightly quieter racists. And while I don’t want to impugn anyone unfairly, I suspect that Stephen Miller fellow may have a blind spot or two.

On the bright side, the demon Baal will not be permitted to enter this world through a golden bull statue in Serbia, thanks to the watchful eye of Deputy Secretary of State Chris Landau. We’re so lucky to have our diplomacy conducted by people who know so much more about Baal than, say, the Iranian regime’s ability to control the Strait of Hormuz.

Anyway, the Offal in the Oval banned CNN, MSNow, and Politico from the White House, which, okay, feels sorta tyrannical, but to be honest, I don’t like people watching me while I sleep, either.

Took a few decades, but Mitch McConnell finally found his best self. I like him quite a bit better without agency. Harder to steal a Supreme Court seat this way, y’know?

If you’re ever worried you’re too proud of being American, picture your government conducting a raid to smuggle an accused pedophile out of the British embassy in order to avoid charges. I wonder if they gave him puppies on the flight home. Ghislaine Maxwell got puppies.

Even as we continue to demand further transparency regarding the Epstein files, I think it’s equally important that we forever bury every detail of whatever the fuck prompted Kash Patel to waive the automatic bestiality disqualifier at the FBI.

You want it to be funny, but it won’t be. It’ll be the saddest fucking thing in the fucking world. Like Bongino keeping a “comfort cassowary” locked up in the basement to deal with the stress of having a real job, until Kash walks in on them. “I’ll expect your resignation on my desk in the morning. Of course the bird will have to be euthanized.”

“Of course.”

…but not till after a wild, taxpayer-funded weekend at the Boondoggle Ranch!

Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.

The wee ideological warning signs they’re putting up around the Smithsonian are funny, too. Cory Mills’ grenade factory blowing up is pretty funny. Not as funny as the old man’s meltdown when the Supreme Court stopped his little post office scheme…but funny.

Oh, and glorious victory has been achieved on the Greenlandic front! I’m told America gained as many as 10,000 free hours of AOL in this historic settlement!

I only hope there’s enough beer in the world to celebrate this triumph. I’ll buy as much as I can, assuming grateful readers donate to my beer fund, which you may have heard accepts Venmo, Cash App, AND PayPal.

ON THE OTHER HAND…

Yeah, it’s that time again. It’s COMIC BOOK TIME.

Y’all made the first issue of GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE such a smashing success that I just had to make a second. Teasers and trailers are on the way, but for now, why not sign up on our KICKSTARTER PRE-LAUNCH PAGE?

Okay, stay safe out there! Follow @john_luzar! Join the email list! MORE COMIC STUFF SOON!

What’re you gonna buy with your 5,000 Trump Buxx? I figure I’ll have to spend mine on buckets to contain my liberal tears. Curse his flawless political instincts! Checkmated again! Well, I suppose that’s what makes us libtards.

Temporarily unburned heretics within the lamestream media claim we can’t afford this $1.3 trillion bribe, but all we have to do is use the money we never sent out for those $5,000 “DOGE Dividends.” Lemon squeezy. Shit, when you factor in the $2,000 tariff rebate that also didn’t happen, we’re way ahead.

Don’t worry, we’ll find the money on the tariff shelf. The trillions in foreign investment that have never existed outside his decomposing mind. Toll revenue from the Strait of Trump. Perhaps he’ll let us in on one of the family crypto scams, though I can’t imagine we’ll be taxing any of our kleptocrat overlords’ newfound billions.

One way or another, I think you’re gonna need a bigger bribe, kid. Five grand doesn’t buy what it used to. Might get me to and from the grocery store once or twice, provided I’m willing to settle for the Argentine mystery meat. Full disclosure: I’m budgeting for at least one medical emergency, like licking a popsicle with glass in it, because that’s just what life’s like in America now.

He was so proud of himself. Just like that time he cured Covid. “Solved the midterms, you’re welcome. Say, somebody should probably work up an agenda to wield all the power we’ll have. Anyway, get Natalie; I’m full again.”

The party unveiled this master stroke at something called a “Midterm Convention,” one of a series of pre-balls designed to keep President Princess satiated before he is officially proclaimed Fairest of Them All for Life and descends into his ballroom bunker for a Saddam Hussein-like last stand.

He needed extra satiating this week because they wouldn’t let him defile the 9/11 anniversary ceremony with self-aggrandizing lies about his conduct at the time. I think that’s a shame, because I bet most of the survivors and families and first responders don’t know about the “b” in dumb, and they would profit from hearing about it.

Many have raised doubts about the veracity of the Dotard’s story about being hauled away from Ground Zero by firefighters, but it totally makes sense that he’d get caught looting.

Anyway, yeah, Midterm Convention. I didn’t watch because I don’t hate myself, but at a glance, it looked mostly like the idolatrous binding of a handful of dead-enders to a political anchor, punctuated by moments designed, for whatever reason, to raise awareness of Ken Paxton’s physical unattractiveness.

“Pretend I’m on the ballot.”

Heh. Only too happy to, sir.

The vulnerable Republican candidates desperately scraping your name off their campaign sites might not appreciate being yoked to the fellow who made diesel fuel cost six bucks a gallon for the first time ever, but well, fuck them.

Polling’s getting pretty sexxy, innit?

Why, Kansas has turned such a tantalizing shade of purple that somebody finally decided to do a little opposition research on “Doctor” Roger Marshall. Turns out that prior to his current gig as a power-mad half-wit’s rubber stamp, Roger was something of a Dickens villain, sending 81 of his filthy taker patients to debtor’s prison.

May I interest you in the campaign of his opponent, Adam Hamilton, who is significantly less likely to be visited by three ghosts at Xmastime?

Plus the Missouri gerrymander officially imploded, though I did enjoy that day or so when everybody got all feisty and secessionist. It was both rootin’ and tootin’, you guys. Everyone was really impressed.

Enemies of the state James Talarico and Jimmy Kimmel won’t be pooling their free speech rights any time soon, not on Brendan Carr’s watch. Blocked from airing their interview on television, this Axis of Disloyal Jims settled for YouTube, where they attracted significantly more viewers than a certain super-showman’s latest celebration of self.

Iran-backed Houthi rebels seized key Red Sea ports and islands in Yemen, catching the Secretary of Warfighting and Push-Ups completely fucking flat-footed just like the last time a hostile enemy force seized control of a critical Middle Eastern shipping route. On the bright side, there can’t be many of those left.

Pete has far too many polygraph tests to administer to pay attention to the war he’s losing. See, everybody at the Pentagon keeps leaking to the press about all the things he’s fucked up. Which is…a lot of things. I probably wouldn’t want people to know about the ammunition shortage I caused or the sailors I forgot to feed or the schoolchildren I blew up or the bit about needing my wife around to stay sober or the bases we may permanently lose either. The leaks may not be the issue here.

Big week for menacing lunging, from the gubernatorial campaign trail in Ohio to the exotic airport tarmacs of Dallas, TX. Could this be the next big craze sweeping a death cult in decline, or are they okay sticking with measles?

Speaking of MAGA trends, have you noticed how they can’t seem to stop hiring white supremacists? Sure, Nate Hochman got kicked off Ron DeSantis’ doomed ship for posting Nazi imagery, but look at him now: Marco Rubio’s chief speechwriter!

And then there is the case of young Stephen Woytek, campaign staffer to Ohio Senator Jon Husted, who not only “once used a photo of Nazi soldiers as his Facebook profile photo” but also “recently added to a playlist of songs celebrating Rhodesia, a defunct White-minority-ruled nation often venerated by white supremacists.”

Stephen is also a Panzer LARPer, who ”follows several suppliers of SS military uniforms on Facebook,” whereas your run-of-the-mill American follows zero, having little interest in being supplied with SS military uniforms. But I suppose one has to wear something while rocking out to songs about Racist Brigadoon.

Natalie Harp received a $45,000 cash bonus for printing out screencaps of tweets so worshipfully, which seems like a lot until you realize the very last thing a deteriorating strongman wants is to under-tip the diaper steward.

Joseph diGenova resigned from his post as Jack Smith But Dumb, alleging ethical breaches by a Department of Justice that was still trying to persecute Olympian David Hearn for a contractor’s mistakes last time I checked.

I always find it amusing when one of these bottom-feeders discovers their limit. Remember Betsy DeVos resigning two days after the Capitol Riot? Still makes me chuckle. How brave. You’ll all slither back like Michael Cohen if the money’s right.

If you want to hear something adorable, apparently Corey Lewandowski thought he was smart enough to pull off high-stakes international political corruption. The Wall Street Journal reports he attempted to cut side deals with Qatar and the UAE, who were mostly just confused as to why the Homeland Security Secretary’s sex pet was speaking.   

Congratulations to this month’s recipient of the Jesse Watters Manhood Prize for Manly Achievements in the Masculine Arts: Markwayne Mullin, who ordered a costly redesign of the DHS seal so that the eagle on the seal faces the (badass) talon clutching some arrows, rather than the (cuck) talon holding the (sissy) palm leaf.

The prize itself is a milkshake with a straw, to be displayed undrunk on the winner’s desk as a symbol of his steely resistance to the sinful mouth suction acts consumption would ask of him.

Markwayne narrowly edged out Vivek Ramaswamy, whose steamy batting cage photo shoot redefined erotica for our dystopian post-shame shithole society.

Y’know what? Watching such a prominent MAGA figure retreat in humiliation puts me in a mood to rout their fucking forces.

Makes you wanna VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS, doesn’t it? You don’t have enough ICE agents to keep us away from the polls, dorks.

There’s still a lingering flash of that Vivek footage in my memory, but I’m confident my old friend alcohol can be of service there. If these ravings drew a smirk, feel free to buy your humble blogger a beer via Cash App, PayPal, or Venmo, sign up on the email list, and/or follow @john_luzar.

And stay safe out there, okay?

It’s said a fish rots from the head. I have no idea if that’s actually true; I only know I’m trapped in a country that’s giving the theory a rigorous round of testing. And this particular head really wasn’t much of a head to begin with, y’know?

I think the low baseline has helped mask the deterioration. You never imagined you’d have to differentiate the stages of a below-average game show host’s mental decline, but now that you mention it, I suppose bragging about discovering the “b” in “dumb” represents a substantial step down from the endless preening about “acing” cognitive screenings…

…or does it? He was already the dumbest motherfucker alive. What, philosophically speaking, constitutes “worse”? It would almost be fun to contemplate, were he employed in a field more suited to his talents. Something like…well, propping a door open. Maybe. Assuming he’s properly supervised.

Don’t get me wrong, I prefer this feebly redecorating phase to last year’s Project 2025 Blitzkrieg, but history has shown this specific wannabe autocrat will entertain some positively zany proposals when faced with an electoral spanking like the one he’s got coming.

I guess I just worry about what guardrails might be left if Natalie accidentally prints out the real polls while he’s immersed in one of his AI slop fantasies about raining death down upon Iran, and he turns to Hegseth and says, “Do that, but to Atlanta,” ten minutes after Pete finally finishes rerouting the chain of command around the last sane voice in the Pentagon.

The president ordered us to unleash the ducks!

The ducks?

From the video. Of the geese with machine guns. They’re marching, and they all have his hair, and we’re supposed to unleash them on urban d—

I thought they were ducks.

They’re geese. Though I suppose they’re ducks now, aren’t they?

…and it’s geriatric wingnut “military influencers” and creeps who got kicked out of TPUSA for kiddie porn making these these calls, because everyone else is fired.

So no, I don’t think ICE needs a national voter database. I think you should have to go at least five years without murdering a nurse before you’re allowed to even ask about a national voter database.

Another suggestion I plan to offer if I ever get this time machine up and running is a law that explicitly prohibits the president from weaponizing the U.S. Postal Service to meddle in an election within one (1) calendar year of being ordered by the Supreme Court to pay a multi-million-dollar settlement for sexual abuse and defamation. That’d be a nice little Bill & Ted adventure, right?

Meet the Press moderator Kristen Welker has been reported to the FCC for “rebuke or punishment” for impugning the virility of Dear Leader’s mighty endorsement, in the strongest sign of strength yet from our strong, strong, strongman. I hope all those candidates he endorsed that lost enjoy their thrilling new lives in Siberia, by the way.

So apparently Fox Nooz fired Maria Bartiromo after she stooged the company out to the White House when management issued guidance directing employees to kindly refrain from pushing the $787 Million Dollar Settlement button.

MAGA mythology is nothing if not rich in tales of dirtbag Icaruses, but since no one in the movement is capable of learning, we get to watch it happen over and over.

Elite Trump University businessologists reverse-engineered the bleeding-edge innovations behind those Dotard-affiliated “Freedom Fuel” stations that’ve been selling gas at below-market prices, and it turns out the secret is stealing. See, they take a bunch of gas from a supplier, and instead of paying for it, they just…don’t.

On the bright side, the issue of energy has been permanently solved thanks to an artful, if somewhat less than legal, deal with the unelected puppet government of Venezuela, wherein Venezuelan mineral wealth will profit the United States instead of Venezuela. The Venezuelan public will surely tolerate this arrangement forever and indeed compose poems and songs in its praise.

One less thing to worry about, which is nice in a world where half your grocery cart gets recalled before you make it through the checkout line. Even the pet food is unsafe now, but at least we’re finally free of those uppity food inspectors, always mouthin’ off about what is and isn’t poison.

The Iran warscursion is still technically happening, I suppose, but that’s “small potatoes,” particularly to the families of the 18 service members who’ve been killed. The regime will submit to the president’s relentless meme campaign any day now, so tell that one widow lady to knock it off with the complaining, wouldja?

The real action is the BALLROOM, bay-bee! That dreary ol’ Army Secretary kept droning on about boring shit like ammunition shortages and sailors driven to suicidal madness by tortuously long deployments when we could’ve been discussing the chariot I’m taking to the ball, which will be made from an enchanted pumpkin, and then at midnight we lock the doors so everyone has to serve me eternally in the afterlife.

And while it is not technically legal to begin construction on the Arch, Dug Bugman doesn’t want to end up on the scrap heap with Kristi Noem and Tulsi Gabbard, so he’ll dig that foundation with his fucking incisors if he has to. With a smile on his face. Wearing shoes that don’t fit.

Rough week for Missouri Republicans, who don’t get to gerrymander their congressional map on behalf of a rapist after all. Not only that, but state House candidate Thomas Christopher Ross got arrested for scheming to plant cocaine on his primary opponent, with what turned out to be the last of the good coke, so that’s a real drag.

Can’t figure out why the Dutch don’t want us looking after their gold anymore. They’re probably worried we’ll get so much American Greatness on it that it will increase in value until it destabilizes their sissy Euro-cuck economy.

Hey, if you ever wished for a racist version of Tetris…congratulations, I guess. I bet a bunch of mega-cool dudes are playing Racist Tetris at Greg Bovino’s place right now. If you brought pizza rolls, I bet they’d let you come over.

What I desperately need is to drink until I forget that Racist Tetris is a thing that exists because my government used my taxes to create it, so all donations to my beer fund, via Cash App, PayPal, or even Venmo, will be profoundly appreciated. As always, I encourage you to sign up on my email list, follow my Xwitter account, and stay safe out there if you’re able…

I almost didn’t blog tonight, as the readership no doubt spent the evening smashing windows in their own individual hometowns’ “Little Canada” neighborhood. Then I figured it’d be nice to have something to read in the enlistment line. You’ll probably be there all day, because after the week’s triumphs, what red-blooded American can withstand the urge to spill the filthy Canuck’s maple-sweet blood?

I’m afraid there may not be much of the foe left to rout, alas. Why, the mere opening salvo of the branding blitzkrieg left them helplessly trembling as their precious “Lake Ontario” was reduced to a smoking crater, upon which gleaming LAKE MURICA sprang up overnight. We used only the best contractors for that, by the way. Any algae is Antifa’s fault.

You can find me on the front freakin’ lines, next to all the MAGA tough guys like Sean Duffy and Jesse Watters. There are no straws in American foxholes, by gum. We ask those of you on the home front to restrict your care packages to manly goods such as beard oils and popsicles with glass in them.   

Actually, we’ve arrived at the stage of American greatness where feeding our armed forces with products recalled over safety concerns would not only provide plentiful options, but constitute a concrete step in a positive direction, as the crew of the USS Abraham Lincoln will tell you.

After a record 250+ days at sea, those poor bastards are finally set for some long overdue R&R in…wait, in Thailand? Gracious me. I predict this shore leave will result in 8-12 great American novels. Sexual misadventures of every genre.

Have a good time, kids, but maybe stay away from the guac. Probably the goldenest thing about this golden age is checking the news before you go grocery shopping to see which everyday foodstuffs have turned lethal.

Yeah, here in the indispensable nation we’re pretty much…well, I guess you’d have to call it rotting, right?

We have decided to die from measles again, for example. Well, if horse dewormer doesn’t cure it, the good lord didn’t intend us to survive it, I suppose.

Okay, so we’ve un-eradicated a few diseases, and half the grocery store is trying to kill us; nothing Senator Darline Graham can’t handle, surely, with her nigh-Klobucharian grasp of the issues. Darline’s Work Sick, Die Young health care plan lands right on the intersection of her party’s “fiscal conservative” and “death cult” wings.

We’re told Pete Hegseth is building a Pentagon troll army to flood the information superhighway with dank memes celebrating all the missions he’s accomplished. These efforts have earned Secretary Funsoxx the lowest approval ratings in a despised kakistocracy, which tracks with what we already knew about his mad leadership skillz. At least they haven’t blown up any schools yet*.

Amazingly, Pete seems to have convinced himself that voters will leap at the opportunity to promote him even higher up the chain of command. “They’ll forget all about the war I lost and the inflation it caused, to say nothing of my buffoonish intelligence blunders and petulant racism, once they understand just how many push-ups I can do.”

…yeah, that’s a Pete Hegseth plan alright.

The Department of Education posted a video comparing Trump to Hitler (favorably, of course), because Linda McMahon is still using the calendar from the first edition of Project 2025, back before they had to make a bunch of adjustments when everyone turned out to be so fucking dumb. She’s gonna show up at the next state dinner in the uniform they were supposed to have rolled out by now, with the boots and the armband; just you wait.

The regime proposes handing a chunk of Yosemite National Park to private real estate developers to build a private road on, because while our natural heritage technically belongs to everybody, surely it belongs to the rich a little more. That’s just basic populism.

Country superstar Jelly Roll was revealed as the mastermind behind the Butler shooting, 9/11, and a fat joke about a svelte, 6’3”, 239 lb Adonis. He is to be deported to CECOT, where he will share a cell with Milo Yiannopoulos, who has been detained by an ICE agent who ran out of children to terrorize.

Look, JFK was great, but you’ll agree the demolition of his memorial is necessary, as no patriot could argue it’s reasonable to ask Dear Leader to endure the repeating narcissistic injury of its continued existence. Also, they’re gonna install this big-ass TV at the Lincoln Memorial to make it look like Honest Abe decided to spend eternity rocking out to Trump rallies and Apprentice reruns, and if you libtards don’t like it, we’ll just blow it up, assuming there’s any ammunition left.

MAGA congressman and Senate hopeful Mike Collins pledged to shepherd legislation mandating that greeting card companies offer Oops, I Hired Another White Nationalist cards for sale at all retail outlets, because that is a normal thing that happens to normal people all the time.

Obviously, no roundup of the week’s news could call itself complete without a brief discussion of Ted Cruz’s tiny dick. While the tininess of even such a uniquely dislikable senator’s dick may strike you as less than newsworthy, it was Senator Cruz himself who lent his hard-won platform to this issue, and I think it’s important that we honor his wishes by letting the whole world know about Ted Cruz’s tiny dick.

Anyway, I just stumbled across a story about the FBI lowering their hiring standards around bestiality, so I think it’s time to log off for the weekend.

If you’d like to buy me one last beer before I set forth for the primordial wilderness of Canadia to cover myself in glory, know that I accept Cash App, Venmo, and even PayPal. You may join my email list or follow @john_luzar if you are so inclined. But stay safe out there either way, chum…

*…that we know about…

I’ve been a Democrat my whole dang life, but now that Jon Ossoff has single-handedly unleashed the Pandora’s Box of INCIVILITY upon our unsoiled political discourse…I just don’t know. I’m still fairly certain fascism is bad, but surely we can fight it without casting aspersions on President Rapist’s creepy stepford handmaid.

He just wants to travel with Natalie, you guys.

I myself almost never leave home without my psychotically devoted disciple who will travel in the trunk of a car to be near me. I mean, how’re you supposed to get through your day without your higher purpose bride?

Holy crap, this story. I think Natalie accidentally won naming rights to the Streisand Effect.

You’re idly doomscrolling. Oh, is it Ossof’s turn in the Two Minutes Hate? Good for him. Gosh, it sounds like he really stepped outside the bounds of polite society, no easy task in a nation governed by a fellow who periodically depicts himself dumping thousands of tons of shit on the public.

Hang on, they’re really circling the wagons around this person. Natalie, Natalie…why does that sound so familiar?

Oh, the human printer? Wait, why is every Scott Jennings-level telestooge indignantly defending the honor of the human freaking printer all of a sudden?

Because she’s a deteriorating narcissist’s final fraying tether to reality, you say? Wait, not the deteriorating narcissist with the nuclear codes, surely?

…well, drat. Y’know what? Let’s hear a little more about Natalie, actually.

Apparently foreign leaders text her when they can’t reach the Dotard directly. What an interesting fact.

‘Allo Natalie! Zis is Macron again! Remind ze big guy what we agreed about not invading ze Greenland! Merci!

Wait…is Natalie one of the most important people in the world? And she refused to submit to a background check for more than a year, you say? Another interesting fact! Plus her brother is a Sandinista? This isn’t news; this is Mad Libs.

We should be fine so long as she hasn’t subsumed her entire sense of self into serving a personal messiah. Well, we better take a look at these letters, just in case…

…I see. That is unfortunate.

In other news, we’re switching sides in the Korean War. Still technically ongoing, y’know. His life is 95% redecorating, peppered with sporadic assaults on the global order.

Normally you hate to see the Supreme Court give any ground to the regime, but allowing the ballroom to proceed feels like sound strategy. Harm reduction, y’know? I think we want to maximize the amount of time he spends looking at swatches.

Find him some sandbox to mash about in, gurgling I’M VERY GOOD AT FLAGPOLES! I doubt it, but I bet you’re less bad at flagpoles than you are at war or economics or running casinos or closing umbrellas or…look, let’s focus on flagpoles is all I’m saying.

Because we’ve arrived at the “blueberries may kill you” phase of American greatness. I really thought we had that one licked. Sure, we managed to un-eradicate measles, but I just assumed the wily blueberry had been definitively domesticated at some point in our agrarian past.

Oh, also, there might be a teeeeeeensy bit of glass in your popsicles now. Turns out you can dismantle a substantial chunk of a nation’s food safety apparatus if you’re dumb and crazy enough. Remember, what’s left of RFK Jr.’s brain are the bits the cranial parasite didn’t want.

Yes, under our decomposing kakistocracy, we’re hurtling backwards as if fired by an obsolete steam catapult installed at the behest of a mad king. Perhaps that Odyssey movie was such a big hit because we subconsciously understood we’ll need to remember how to make bronze soon.

Turns out the ol’ approval rating takes a hit when the blueberries turn deadly. Suddenly even Republican primary voters are rejecting his skeevier henchmen. Gosh, I imagine Cory Mills’ long-term plans relied heavily on the impunity of office.

Secretary of Pushups and Warfighting Pete Hegseth lacks the self-control to travel without a chaperone, which is an awfully comforting thought. So if his wife gets caught up in a hot streak on Candy Crush and Pete wanders off to crack open a bottle of cotton candy vodka in the middle of a Walmart, he might do even dumber shit than Signalgate and the Iran war? What, was Lindsay Lohan unavailable for this gig?

You watch, though; Byron Donalds and Dug Bugman are gonna get emotional support blondes of their own, just like when they all started wearing too-long red neckties.

WHERE’S THE BEEF…FROM? Your government won’t tell you, but that other story about slaughtering wild horses is probably a coincidence. Yes, to the chagrin of American ranchers, tariffs have been suspended on Cow From Someplace. It’s probably fine, at least by the reigning “blueberries may be fatal” standards.

As expected, shiny new Attorney General Todd Blanche pointedly refused to pledge independence from his autocratically inclined boss, but I suppose it’s healthy that we’re still askin’.  He’s already going after Kilmar Abrego Garcia again. The human smuggling charges were obviously bullshit, but apparently there’s video of him carving a 350-yard gash in the Reflecting Pool.

Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy released a long-delayed YouTube show starring Sean Duffy, which probably isn’t the sort of thing government officials devote time and resources to in countries where you can eat the fucking blueberries.

DeSantistan Republican Mike Caruso appears to have wandered perilously close to a life story arc worthy of an EC horror comic. On page one, a zealous state congressman with a dark secret votes to enact a law allowing the death penalty for the unforgivable crime he commits on page three. Even the Crypt Keeper looks away in disgust.

Ok, that’s enough for now. Please enjoy the weekend’s festivities, which apparently include a bumper car race between the president and Jeffrey Epstein. Remember, if you encounter any blueberries, DO NOT APPROACH; contact the nearest ICE agent and tell them the blueberry is a nurse exercising their First Amendment rights.

You’ll agree it’s unreasonable to ask me to face this sober, so here’s the part where I invite you to toss a buck or two into my beer fund via Cash App, Venmo, or even PayPal. Of course, seeing new sign-ups on my email list and new followers @john_luzar releases equally pleasing chemicals in my battered brain, so that’s another option. NEW COMIC COMING SOON! ANSWER YOUR SURVEYS! STAY SAFE OUT THERE!

PS: That is so how French people text.

If I had to choose just one favorite part of life under a strongman, it would definitely be the strength. I can’t wait till they clear all that woke shit out of the Smithsonian so there’s room for this catering cart. It should be an interactive exhibit where you crawl inside and cower and pick which members of your family have to go on the decoy plane.

Sorry, Dad. Shouldn’ta made me eat my peas.

In the interest of fairness and balance, I think it’s important to highlight the moments, however rare, when the regime gets something right. And Mr. President, leaving Stephen Miller on the decoy plane was inspired. I say this with tears in my eyes, sir: Stephen Miller might be the greatest decoy anybody has ever seen.

I’m not a general or anything (heaven knows I couldn’t handle the pushups!), but I bet when you’re bogged down in a Middle Eastern quagmire, all sorts of situations must come up where it would be super handy to have something (or someone!) to draw the enemy’s fire, and I just want to make sure we’re maximizing your talent for human resources. Sir.

I think even the brownshirtiest masked secret policeman would admit ICE has a few problems to sort out, but surely nothing that $20 million worth of electro-shock gloves can’t fix.

Reminds me of an old joke: How many taser-fisted thugs does it take to disrupt a midterm election? Sounds far-fetched, sure, but “stranger things have happened” than a cornered autocrat declaring a national security emergency to stave off an electoral butt-whoopin’, right?

Fortunately, we needn’t worry about the fiscal consequences of outfitting Off-Brand Orbán’s personal army with supervillain tech, because we’re saving a bunch of money by not feeding the crew of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

We’re so lucky to have a Secretary of War who understands that if you pump ‘em full of enough testosterone, warfighters don’t need food at all. You can lock ‘em up on a boat in the middle of the ocean and forget about ‘em. For nine months. Sure, every now and then a guy’s gonna snap and try to fling himself into the sea, but ya gotta cull the sissies.

Personally, I find it shameful that the lamestream media mocked Hegseth for helpfully modeling grooming techniques deployed sailors can apply utilizing only their own self-manufactured bodily fluids.

Why, it’s only a matter of time before the Strait of Hormuz is declared a territory of the United States! Achieving this new war goal will be at least as easy as obliterating Iran’s nuclear program and changing the regime, so you may want to think about investing in a new pair of victory parade boots.

And sure, our stockpiles (not just missiles but drones now) have fallen to the point where I half expect the Bundy ranch to attempt secession, but that actually fits rather snugly with the president’s new “de-modernization” policy, wherein we abandon the cutting-edge for the obsolete.

“Trump orders Navy to use ‘outdated’ steam catapult”

Of course he did. No doubt Junior or Eric lost a few rounds of Uno to a steam catapult magnate in some riverboat casino.

Although it could just be spite. You see stuff like “Trump cancels Biden-era bid to speed power line construction” and “Treasury Scales Back Scrutiny of U.S. Shell Companies”; at a certain point it starts to feel like revenge on the world for outliving him.

Because it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake through all those boring-ass meetings, and it looks like his body is rejecting the hair transplant from Lindsay Graham’s corpse. Ah well. How dangerous can a dying narcissist be, really?

While funding cuts have undermined progress in many sciences, American teams still achieve thrilling breakthroughs in the field of stoogery with some regularity. One crack squadron of invertebrates actually dreamed up some bullshit workaround to keep their rapist dork boss’ name on the side of the fucking Kennedy Center, for example.

Breathtaking. I didn’t know my species was capable of such obsequiousness. Like the moon landing of self-degradation. Voting to add “Restored and Renovated by President Donald J. Trump” to that building is so subhumanizingly embarrassing I assume one instantly devolves upon the casting.

“Say, didn’t you have opposable thumbs the last time I saw you?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a funny story…”

Karoline Leavitt will depart the administration at the end of the month, presumably to open a chain of puppy mills. A reality show competition to crown the Next Mouth of American Fascism will launch right after the federal government gets a handle on that whole Reflecting Pool thing, so I wouldn’t hold my breath.

They’re still trying to pin it on that Hearn fella, of course. That poor guy stumbled right into a Hitchcock movie, didn’t he? You wake up one day and the whole goddamn government is trying to throw you in jail so the president doesn’t have to admit he actually sucks at the only fucking thing he’s supposed to do well. And it might be worth it if Eva Marie Saint showed up, but otherwise, it looks like a pain in the ass.

I see Max Miller decided to not only stick around, but bring colleagues in competitive races down with him, which I enthusiastically support. New York Congressman Mike Lawler acquitted himself so poorly in an interview discussing his refusal to return Miller’s campaign donations that he triggered a fresh new wave of interest in his creepy, cringey obsession with Michael Jackson.

Yeah, I think the midterms’ll turn out pretty well, barring the violent intervention of an unaccountable paramilitary force with taser hands. People’re upset. About the gas prices and the foodborne illnesses and the illicit cattle roaming to and fro.

Normally there’s nothing I enjoy more than watching the dastardly Deep State steal an election from a real American patriot, but I sincerely believe the spectacle of one single Klobuchar/Lindell debate could’ve healed the world.

Until that blessed day, at least we have the Pen Ad to tide us over. I know Ken Paxton is a slug who leaves a trail of opposition research behind him wherever he goes, but how is it possible that there’s actual security footage of him stealing some dude’s pen?

Okay, I’m gonna go pour one out for that lost debate. Why, if you enjoyed this post, you could buy me that very beer via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal! Otherwise, join my email list and follow my Xwitter account, because it’s almost time for another COMIC BOOK KICKSTARTER!

Stay safe out there, old chum…

Look, I don’t want to get all swoony, but doesn’t Dear Leader excel in SO many fields? Identifying drawings of animals, detecting the secret “b” in the word “dumb,” closing umbre-well nobody’s perfect. He is of course a prolific rapist.

But of all the things he does better than anyone who ever lived, it is the playing of golf which he does betterest. He just won his forty-third championship (that we know about), leaving his vanquished foes strewn across the course like so many Iranian schoolchildren.

Since another trophy would only blend in with the rest of the gilding in the Oval Office, the prize this time was a fresh new head of hair that we promise wasn’t harvested from Lindsey Graham’s corpse.

Hey buddy, can you spare a Patriot missile? A reckless manchild lobbed all of ours at a theocracy. Why? Fuck if I know. They must not get too deep into modern warfare tactics on those cognitive tests.

Anyway, if any expansionist neighbors felt like taking advantage of our depleted ammunition stockpiles, I’m not exactly saying I for one welcome our new Canadian overlords, but there might be room on my couch for a reconnaissance team that brings enough beer.

Marjorie Taylor Greene, Thomas Massie, and Joe Kent want Tucker Carlson to run for president on a MAGA-fracturing third-party ticket, which I would generally support, though of course you worry the platform, explaining in detail the schism between two factions of the dumbest motherfucking movement in human history, would open a rift to some sort of nightmarish alternate dimension populated by many-angled beings who feed on the seething resentment of the mediocre.

Speaking of which, Andy Ogles lost his primary? Had no idea that was even on the table. American kakistocracy might have some limits? Wonderful! Like finding twenty bucks in the pocket of your winter coat.

Golly, maybe the old man’s endorsement doesn’t pack the same punch it did back before he taught the Ayatollah how to make our gas more expensive.

Actually, it’s a bit of a funny story; in one Michigan district, he endorsed a fellow named Amir Hassan, and I don’t even need to tell you how that worked out, although I certainly hope American history teachers of the future remember the detail that the dude who won the blowout victory dropped out weeks before the election, because that shit would make a killer extra credit question.

I’d like to tell Amir Hassan not to worry, though, because us Dumocrats (no “b” in that one) are going to evict MAGA from power before they can deport you to a Salvadoran torture gulag, so, y’know…you’re welcome.

So, “Capital One says it closed hundreds of bank accounts associated with President Donald Trump and his businesses in 2021 ‘for anti-money laundering reasons,’ according to a recent court filing from the financial institution.” 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my share of bank accounts closed for anti-money laundering reasons. It’s just that when you reach the point of hundreds, one issue is that you’re shitty at money laundering.

No wonder the Dotard is grifting so hard. After a lifetime of failing at every single thing you try, when the fucking casino business proves too difficult for you, it must be delightful to finally find something that’s too easy to fuck up.

Of course, the money’s not really any good anymore unless it can buy a cure for cankles. Anyway, Junior n’ Eric are just gonna trade whatever’s left for magic beans the second he’s gone. War turned out to be hard, so he’s primarily focused on redecorating as much of the planet as possible, though here the “awful at everything harder than leaving a bribe jar outside the White House” issue again rears its head.

Can’t say I hate watching Jeanine Pirro suffer the wrath of her narcissistically injured boss, but if that algae comes back again, he’s gonna nuke us all. While the courts are certainly correct to halt construction on his precious ballroom, we’re probably safer with him in the playroom than the Situation Room, y’know? Let him fiddle with his “red brick pavers” till he gets sleepy; celebrate one more day got through.

Boy, this Max Miller kid sure is a dead-eyed creep, huh? 3-time winner of the Um Actually I’ll Wait for the Next Elevator pageant. When Max isn’t leveraging his two-year-old daughter’s mental health to score pettiness points in his “acrimonious divorce proceedings,” he likes to unwind by writing laws the rest of us have to obey.

In the early drafts of the Bill of Rights, there was an amendment that would’ve formally enshrined the right to pelt any member of the community who would actually withhold a stuffed animal from their own fucking child (Madison’s words, not mine) with small rocks and/or animal droppings until said community member understood themselves to be exiled from all decent society forever, but it was ultimately decided that ten was a nice round number.

Regrettably, we cannot yet move on from the distressingly specific topic of ultra-skeevy dudes serving in the House Republican Conference, as we must first consider the sad, gross tale of Chuck Edwards. I recommend you wrap yourself in your fluffiest blanket before clicking any links leading to detailed descriptions of Chuck’s ham-handed advances on his young staffers, because if you don’t, you will cringe yourself right in half.

One of my favorite little shows is the one where your Cornyns and your Tillises squawk a bit before folding, your Collinses and your Muskowskis issue Brave Statements Demonstrating Independence, and then everybody pretends that some all-but-translucent nonentity, say maybe a Bill Cassidy, would ever, could ever summon the intestinal fortitude to protect the nation from just ONE of Donald Trump’s unqualified thugs. It’s an amusing little show. The Attorney General Todd Blanche Show looks kinda dum*, though.

Incidentally, as long as we’re breaking laws about putting living politicians on currency, I’d love a coin capturing (the husk of) “Senator” Cornyn’s defeated impotence as he wheezes, “Well, there’s nothing we could do to, uh, rein in the president…” The coin should be worth four cents.

Rand Paul and some other dorks formally pronounced Dr. Fauci in contempt of…shit, I don’t know. Something. Contempt of horse dewormer, I suppose. In America, we do this thing sometimes where senators shout fake science at real scientists. You may find our culture mystifying, but we’re mostly just idiots.

All in all a largely manageable week, though I did feel burrito-shamed by Dan Crenshaw. No doubt beer will aid me in restoring emotional equilibrium, as it has so many times. If you enjoyed this lil’ rant, you can buy me a beer, or perhaps even an extravagant burrito, via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal.

I have an email list and a Xwitter account, plus there’s that second issue of GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE coming soon to Kickstarter. Oh, and we still have the slow-motion, slapstick collapse of the regime to look forward to, so stay safe out there, old chum…

*Apologies, I meant “dumb” of course. Sneaky little astrard.

“Remember, stupidity always brings losing and death!”

Y’know what? Amidst the sacrilegious AI slop and the ceaseless fucking whinging, he haphazardly careens into a nugget of authentic, folksy wisdom once every decade or so, like some damaged clone of Chance the Gardener.

Stupidity definitely brings losing and death. I can state that with high confidence, because I live in a country that proves it damn near daily.

In fact, our entire political system has configured itself to test this theory with frankly irritating regularity. I would like it if stupidity could bring puppies or rainbows or Toll House cookies fresh from the oven just once, but I suppose I should lie back and enjoy the golden age of losing and death.

Let us take, as an example, one soul-crushingly typical headline from these days of misrule:

“US government map of Africa mislabels every country at global conference”

Damn near any given map of Africa, in its natural state, is probably gonna label the countries right, y’know? It’s such a big part of why we make maps in the first place. Think about how far out of your way you have to go to create an inaccurate map.

This is the State Department, by the way. If your dentist has a mislabeled map of Africa on his wall, that’s weird and concerning, but at least it’s theoretically still possible he knows not to stick the drill up your nose.

Turns out entrusting foreign policy to drooling fuckwits who cannot successfully assemble Power Point slideshows is a good way to wind up bombing schoolyards en route to quagmires. Since we’ve already arrived at the point in the War-ish Iranscursion when the Pentagon is hiding causalities from the public while admitting, however accidentally, that winning is “not an option,” I think it’s fair to conclude that yet again, stupidity brought losing and death.

And since the regime announced the end of a Medicare drug subsidy in the name of war financing, we’ll get to share in the losing and death on the home front, yay!

We even got to explore the storied history of stupidity bringing losing and death, thanks to Rand Paul’s dorky little community theatre show trial. The DOGE cuts definitely reached any agencies tasked with curing Fauci Derangement Syndrome.

America’s Handsomest Epidemiologist sure drives ‘em batty, doesn’t he? Why, Bernie Moreno became so hysterical, he uttered a swear! And this is Bernie Moreno we’re talking about! He’s so mild-mannered you can throw hot water on his daughter and break his granddaughter’s collarbone, and he won’t make a peep!

It’s often difficult to discern what Ron Johnson believes since he’s even worse at talking than he is at thinking (I assume his personal healthcare regimen is largely leech-based), but he counts the good doctor among history’s “most famous infamous villains.” A poet as well, Ron? That’s just unfair.

Tommy Tuberville claims Fauci “killed millions of people.” Which isn’t technically “true,” per se, but once Tommy’s anointed Caliph of Alabamastan, look out. They’ll build a wicker man or some shit. Some slow news day next fall, you’ll scroll past the story three or four times, assuming it’s AI or satire, before you realize no, Governor Tuberville actually did get caught building a wicker man for Dr. Fauci.

Representative John McGuire denounced a process he calls “the BLT sandwich,” of “using human fetus baby parts in the vaccine when they could’ve used ivermectin.”

Like you walk into the vaccine store and the guy behind the counters goes, “Dead baby or livestock dewormer?”

Dead baby.

“Very good, sir.” And he leads you to a tank and you pick one.

I thought it was touching, the way the Dotard went above and beyond expectations at Lindsey Graham’s funeral. He’ll fall asleep damn near anywhere these days, but public demonstrations of his declining motor skills are for special occasions. The irony of a man who (falsely) claims to be “number one on Tic Tac” struggling to get a Tic Tac all the way to his mouth is awfully profound, you’ll agree.

Now he’s saying he’s done more for us than our parents, which isn’t megalomaniacal at all. I’ll wait for an official verdict from the fact-checkers, but just eyeballing the NTAFP* metric, Mom and Dad come out way ahead.

*That’s “Ninja Turtle Action Figures Purchased,” for the economically illiterate. Plus, they gave me life and taught me a bunch of stuff and fed me a bunch of stuff and introduced me to Dr. Strangelove, admittedly a little earlier than they probably should have. Whereas the other party mostly makes things more irritating and expensive.

Some Correspondents’ Dinner, huh? Watching a malignant narcissist sit and squirm while journalists win awards for exposing his revolting private correspondence with a child sex trafficker turns out to rock fairly hard. Put that shit on a commemorative passport, maybe I’ll get one.

The Wall Street Journal did a story on the president’s…Bribery Czar, I suppose you’d call her. Her name is Meredith O’Rourke, they call her the Princess of Darkness, and she tells the bribers where the bribee wants the suitcase of unmarked bills dropped. Meredith, you’ll want to get that pardon in writing, ideally before the next Regularly Scheduled Walter Reed Visit.

I tried to work up a gag about Cornyn and Tillis as lame ducks nipping at the fading autocrat’s cankles, but of course the resulting image proved too nauseating to further contemplate. That said, not confirming Todd Blanche as Attorney General and ensuring the demise of the taxpayer-financed terrorist tip jar are certainly outcomes worth pursuing, so nip away, lil’ duckies!

Rumors that Mitch McConnell has died are silly. In fact, he’s RIGHT BEHIND YOU!

Apparently “Donald” has hit a record low as a baby name, which is weird, because I feel like half the kids I grew up with were named after their parents’ favorite rapist.

Despite clear evidence of 1st-degree arrangement of seashells with the intent to do murder, it looks like Jimmy Comey is gonna walk on a technicality. It’s infuriating how many enemies of the state escape punishment simply because they haven’t broken any laws.

The Reflecting Pool guy got off, too, so he’s roaming the streets free now. Carving 350-yard gashes into shit. Eating the pets. I bet he teams up with the sandwich lobber to concoct elaborate plots to humiliate Jeanine Pirro by allowing her to follow her impulses.

Googly-eyed Kremlin bitch Kash Patel cannot sue a dude for calling him a blatantly incompetent chud because the Constitution is really quite clear on the right to call a googly-eyed Kremlin bitch a blatantly incompetent chud. In Kash Patel’s case specifically, I suppose it’s theoretically possible to describe him without the words “googly-eyed Kremlin bitch” or “blatantly incompetent chud,” but it wouldn’t be terribly efficient, so if you’re arguing that there’s no constitutional right to concisely state the obvious, well, that’s just stupid.

And remember, stupidity always brings losing and death!

If you don’t believe me, tune in next week. I can damn near guarantee hearty portions of both.

Similarly, blogging about American politics always brings, in me at any rate, a powerful need to drink beer. Oh, I abstractly understand that I cannot target the specific brain cells that retain the memories I’m so desperate to obliterate, but I intend to keep on trying until they turn down my card at the beer store.

If you enjoyed this diatribe, you may contribute to my experiments via Venmo, PayPal, or even Cash App. I have an email list you can join and a Xwitter account you can follow, if you are so inclined. And even if you’re not, stay safe out there, okay?

PS: I’m also getting tantalizingly close to launching the next Kickstarter, for issue #2 of GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE! (Still waiting on some surveys, ya survey-non-answering nogoodniks!)

Feels like we hit the Let’s Just Do It And Be Legends stage of imploding American kakistocracy, doesn’t it?

Let’s restart the Iran war. Let’s go back to ICE gunning people down in the street. Oh, and weren’t we going to assault the very foundations of the country’s electoral system? Have you seen the latest polling? We gotta get on that shit.

Also, I don’t want to get greedy or anything, but if there were some way to cause, say, an explosive diarrhea outbreak, that would be amazing. Have we tried intentional, malicious negligence? Because we’ve had a lot of luck with that.

The dude making all these decisions thinks magnets break when they get wet, by the way.

Nice to have that one back in rotation; it’s a personal favorite. He’s been so enamored with the ‘b’ in ‘dumb’ since he found out about it in his late seventies that we’ve forgotten how he believes that “When a little water touches the magnets, it doesn’t work anymore.”

No wonder we’re on the cusp of such a golden-ass age. Any minute now. Two weeks. Just wait till the revenue from the Strait of Hormuz tolls starts rollin’ in, baby! Why, running a massive protection racket on the other side of the globe is as easy as stealing a magnet’s magnetizing power with a small amount of water!

Boots on the ground? Well, why the heck not? Dear Leader’s mastery of the art of war is matched only by his negotiating prowess, after all. How many times has he either achieved glorious, total victory or graciously delivered the peace for which he is renowned the world over? No war in history has ended as many times as this one, and he doesn’t get enough credit from the lying liberal media for that.

As compensation for this slight, he gets a coin with his face on it, yes, in defiance of the dumb ol’ law, plus THREE scoops of ice cream tonight and a little light blasphemy on the official White House social media accounts. That’s only fair.

OH, and if it’s not too much trouble, he’d like to end American democracy.

Right! We reelected the guy who broke our centuries-old peaceful transfer of power streak. Autogolpe me once, shame on you…

And yes, there’s a level on which all this Big Lie stuff comes off like an old man arguing over an expired coupon in a Piggly Wiggly, but at the same time, we’re definitely not living through a golden age of refusing to follow unconstitutional orders, y’know?

Markwayne Mullin may be a soft little man with a smooth little brain, but he is still, for reasons certain to perplex and amuse scholars for generations, an extremely powerful fellow, so I can’t say I love watching him threaten election officials with imprisonment.

Wouldn’t want to tell you how to do your job, Markwayne, but maybe worry less about bamboo fibers and more about getting ICE’s murder numbers down? Hey, I’ve got an idea! You could like, check a dude’s background before you give him a badge and a gun (and a mask), and if he’s like, a violent psychopath, maybe he has to find some other job where it’s harder to kill people. Just a thought.

Pete Hegseth is gonna restore masculinity to the United States Armed Forces if he has to personally palpate every scrotum in the joint. Yes, the Secretary of War mandated testosterone screenings because we live in a deleted scene from a low-budget remake of a second-tier Steven Seagal movie.   

So I guess Marco Rubio is Viceroy of Venezuela now. Golly, that sounds like an important job. Hope none of the duties require shoes that fit.

They’re gonna sell priority access to the Dotard’s social media posts to anybody willing to sift through the messianic and/or homoerotic memes for tips about the next stock he’s pumping, just like in all the healthiest democracies.

If nothing else (and it’s pretty close to nothing, honestly), they’ve built a vibrant culture of corruption. Shit, even the fucking teleprompter guy has been grifting on the prediction markets. You better check these creeps’ pockets when they come sniffing around the Smithsonian, or we’ll live to see the Apollo 11 Command Module up on cinder blocks behind Mar-a-Lago.

So they drained the Reflecting Pool, and of course there’s no 350-yard gash. That’s one of the hazards of fabricating imaginary gashes, I suppose. Are we still prosecuting the Olympic canoeist over the gash that isn’t there?

The Senate Judiciary Committee convened to consider the absurd proposition that Todd Blanche should be Attorney General of the United States. Todd’s such a consummate lackey he can’t get through a confirmation hearing without referring to himself as Donald Trump’s lawyer, so it’s cute that we’re pretending there’s the slightest chance he’d wield the power of this office ethically.   

Chuck Schumer (allegedly) farted audibly on the Senate floor this week, which I am honor-bound to mention here in the interest of fairness and balance.

Seems Republican Senate candidate Mike Collins’ son-in-law is “a pro-White nationalist social media influencer with a track record of sharing antisemitic material and Nazi imagery in comments across the internet.” Ho hum. We’ve normalized worse.

(I think I’m actually going to enjoy this subplot quite a bit, because it turns out Jon Ossoff has a talent for playing with his food.)

Article I, Section 8, Clause 1) of the U.S. Constitution grants Congress the power to collect taxes to provide for the “common defense and general welfare,” which I’m sure you’ll agree encompasses flying JD Vance’s kids to luxury golf lessons on military helicopters with Secret Service protection.

History books tend to ignore the Founders’ heated debate over this very issue, which was ultimately resolved during a game of strip poker that established a well-regulated militia to escort a young John Quincy Adams to and from his trombone lessons.

Speaking of JD, he went on Joe Rogan to show the world what a likable, bro-ish sort of fellow he is beneath the eyeliner and the hatred, only to prove incapable of navigating the conversation without commenting on the sexxxiness of former President Biden’s ice-cream consumption technique.

Elon Musk likely broke Wisconsin’s bribery laws when he offered all those bribes during the 2025 state Supreme Court election. Gosh, I hope the trial doesn’t interfere with his efforts to incite white supremacist violence in Ireland.

Hey, you know who sucked?

Lindsey Graham sucked.

I shouldn’t say that. He was probably good at lots of things. He was amazing at betraying oaths, for example. Take the oath a United States senator swears:

I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

Yep, betrayed the shit outta that one. Damn near daily for a decade. And for what?

For war.

There was no degradation Lindsey Graham would decline to endure for the opportunity to make a little war. To a reasonably decent human being, blowing up a school full of children is an atrocity. To Lindsey, it was Xmas fucking morning.   

Lindsey lived such a shameful life that any honest obituary reads like a cautionary tale told by an insult comic. It’s a crying shame his parents ever met. And I’m sure that when South Carolina Republicans replace him with some freak who got kicked out of the Oath Keepers for sexual deviancy, I’ll even come to miss the relative gentility of his tragically weak character, so fuck him for that, too.

Anyway.

This is the part where I ask you to donate to my beer fund, which is actually extra urgent this week, as I spilled a bunch of beer on a bunch of magnets and thus must replace both. (Venmo, PayPal, and Cash App. You know the drill.)

Join the email list. Follow @john_luzar. Stay safe out there.

PS: WHY OH WHY WON’T YOU FILL OUT YOUR KICKSTARTER SURVEYS? I just want to send you the comics you bought from me. They are packed up and ready to go, but I need you to answer the survey so I know where to send them.