“Trump officials cite white supremacists in bid to end birthright citizenship”

Gross.

And we shrug. “Sounds like something the United States government would do, yeah.”

That said, I think the last year or so conclusively disproves the concept of white supremacy and all theories flowing from it. That science is fuckin’ settled. If I had just two words to describe life under the thumb of this new master race, they wouldn’t be “golden age,” y’know? Maybe “turd geyser” or something.

And surprise, surprise, all the latest polling confirms historic majorities now identify as Just About Done With This Shit, Thanks For Asking.

Maybe the American people don’t want to be great again. I mean sure, shockwaves from the self-inflicted fuel crisis reverberate further throughout the economy damn near hourly, but the imaginary marker negotiations have never gone better.

Folks’re mad at Paula White for comparing the world’s most famous rapist to Jesus Christ, but honestly, what deals did Jesus ever make? Nailed to a cross for OTHER people’s sins? Definitely on the sucker/loser spectrum.

Did Jesus ever take one single cognitive test? And the Bible would absolutely mention that, because they’d want you to know how smart He is.

Why, I bet there isn’t any evidence at all of Jesus sexually assaulting a 13-year-old girl, let alone new evidence corroborating existing testimony. Unlike some people I could mention.

Hey, somebody tell Pam Bondi to keep an eye out for any stray Epstein files while she’s cleaning out her desk. Yes, the Pamster is leaving us for the private sector, where rumor has it she’ll be replacing either Diamond or Silk whichever one died who cares?

Didn’t take long for Pam to find her place in history, I see. I’m sure it was super worth it. Who needs a soul, anyway?

And so the weighty task of smearing the halls of justice with poo now falls to another. Perhaps Lee Zeldin or Alina Habba, who I’m told is reading at a seventh-grade level now.

The most intriguing possibility is Judge Jeanine, who has apparently been angling for the gig all along. Yeah, every time she got laughed out of court by a grand jury, she was actually auditioning for a promotion. Kakistocracy seems funny from the outside sometimes, but I think it’s important that we respect their culture.

The defenestration ritual is, of course, central to a religion that worships such a subpar deity. A steady stream of high priests must be excommunicated/immolated to maintain the illusion that there’s anybody anywhere in the whole damn cult that doesn’t absolutely suck.

Tulsi’s next, we’re told, or Lutnick, or perhaps even Hegseth.   

Oh right, the war!

Historically, it’s been traditional to determine war aims before the commencement of the actual war, but we don’t go for your fancy, coastal, elitist “planning” shit ‘round these parts.

We’re trying out more of a going-in-guns-blazing, murdering-hundreds-of-children, inadvertently-gifting-our-adversary-a-massive-financial-windfall kind of thing these days. Don’t worry, we’re safe in the hands of dudes who think we won Vietnam.

Oh well. At least we taught this new Ayatollah how to take the global economy hostage whenever he wants.

Poor Donnie. Pete swore fighting a war in the Middle East was a simple matter of doing push-ups until the enemy fled the field in the face of your fearsome swoleness, and he was wearing his trustworthiest socks at the time, too.

Personally, I think Pete’s taking the blame for the shortcomings of the U.S. military, which is warfighting far too wokely, as I’m sure you’ll agree. Why, despite ongoing purges, some of the officers are still women, or even Black. How’s a fellow supposed to blow up schools under such conditions?

Shucks, how’s he supposed to bomb a whole country “back to the Stone Age” when they keep stubbornly shooting down our planes with those air defenses we totally annihilated weeks ago?

You know, I bet when he sent his broker out on that war profiteering bender, it was more “invest in companies that produce ticker tape for parades” than “back manufacturers of cutting-edge military tech because the idiot Defense Secretary has an established history of making massively expensive mistakes.”

Anyway, while the Dotard managed to get through his little war address without shitting his pants or declaring war on NATO, larger issues, such as “Wait, why the fuck are we even doing this?” and “Could this guy tell a cow apart from a horse right now if his life depended on it?” remain.

Still, I think we should give the boys this trillion and a half dollars they’re asking for. Why spend money on health care, housing, and education when the two biggest dipshits in the history of narcissism have so many war crimes yet to commit and so many messianic delusions yet to explore?

We just gotta find ourselves a new war aim is all. Something manageable. Find some low-level cleric willing to finance the delivery of a single burrito, via helicopter, to Kid Rock’s house, spike the football, and get the fuck out.

The Offal in the Oval took another flaccid swipe at our constitutional rights with an executive order on voting rights that isn’t expected to survive contact with any federal judge not named Aileen Cannon. I look forward to explaining all the nuances to the masked secret policeman at my polling station.

Speaking of ICE, they’re allegedly setting up shop outside Marine Corps graduation ceremonies in South Carolina, not, as you might imagine, to demonstrate their world-renowned water bottle handing-out skills, but to poke around amidst the assembled families for brown people to kidnap. Have fun in Iran, grads!

The wily Eric Swalwell narrowly eluded the FBI’s clutches when, at the pivotal moment, just as he was about to procure concrete evidence of Swalwell’s many crimes, which are big and serious and so, so real, Director Patel was forced to pause operations to wait for a jacket that fit.

A planned operation to deploy the president himself to intimidate the Supreme Court during oral arguments for the birthright citizenship case was forced to abort at the last minute when handlers feared a repeat of the notorious sleep-farting incident from his 2024 trial.

I don’t usually get emotionally invested in celebrity gossip, but I don’t think the Noems are going to make it, you guys. Maybe if Corey n’ Kristi make it legal, they’ll be permitted conjugal visits, which could provide necessary spice for the Oliver Stone biopic.

Aren’t you glad you’re not Bryon Noem? That dude is on the sort of run that seldom occurs outside of William H. Macy films.

And not to join the dogpile, but I’ve decided to run for Congress on a platform of a single piece of legislation mandating the replacement of every banner and statue and coin depicting Donald Trump with the already iconic image of poor Bryon, with his sad, broken eyes and immense, tragicomically misaligned falsies.

I just think it captures the spirit of MAGA more accurately, is all.

I see JD Vance has written a book about his faith. I’ll get to that one once I finish Josh Hawley’s book on manhood and that series of YouTube videos Dennis Hastert made offering tips for coaching high school wrestling.

Normally, there’s nothing I enjoy more than watching Donald Trump lose in court, but if these activist judges steal from us the cultural catharsis of tearing the fat bastard’s precious ballroom down brick by brick with our bare hands, I may be forced to exercise my constitutional right to riot.

In my fantasy, he’s holed up in that bunker beneath it, pissing his way through an adult diaper stockpile that was supposed to last decades in mere weeks, driven mad by the jubilant singing of a joyful nation diligently scraping through however many feet of solid steel. With spoons if necessary, you piece of crap.

With spoons.

So yeah, if you still believe in white supremacy after watching these pasty dorks at work, I don’t know what to tell ya. I do have some NFTs for sale that you may be interested in, however.

Okay, that’s enough for one week. I promise to spend any donations on beer rather than self-aggrandizing memoirs composed by unimpressive hypocrites, so donate freely via Venmo, PayPal, or Cash App as you see fit. Join the cool kids on my email list, or @john_luzar, and stay safe out there, old chum…

PS, we’ve got an update on that guy from last week who says he teleported. Turns out, he didn’t. Imagine that.

Honestly, I haven’t been paying close attention this week. Are we still doing news? I caught a glimpse of Melania with her new robot boyfriend and assumed we were skipping straight to the dystopia.

We’re still at war, excuse me, at excursion with Iran, I think? Total victory has been declared so frequently it’s honestly difficult to tell. The way international diplomacy works nowadays is there’s this rapist who descends further into dementia by the fucking hour, smearing red lines on the all-but-completely-gilded walls of the Oval Office in his own feces, casually concocting fake summits and imaginary alliances as his bluffs are called one by one.

The rapist is fed a daily compilation of ‘splosions, an essential part of every deteriorating megalomaniac’s balanced breakfast. Then it’s off to Truth Social to threaten a war crime or two. Details are left to the fellow with the socks from the push-up videos.

As Sun Tzu so famously said, the most important thing in war is to tip your friends and family off before announcing major strategic shifts so everybody can make a killing in the prediction markets. Also, it’s a fantastic opportunity to hit on Fox Nooz hosts.

We don’t need NATO’s help because the Strait of Hormuz is a Democrat hoax. Or if it does exist, it’s to be jointly controlled, just Donnie n’ the Ayatollah, resort hotels on either side, tourists traveling from around the world to cheer the execution of local dissidents.

Sure, gas prices are up a buck or so, but that’s peanuts compared to what the average Real American is pulling down in crypto bribes, and anyway, the TVs in the Situation Room don’t actually have a rewind button. A lot of people don’t know that.

So it’s full speed ahead. Boots on the ground. Today, Kharg Island, tomorrow Cuba! Then on to Greenland! This is the Don-roe Doctrine, not so much island hopping as careening. The Hungry Hungriest Hippo in Winter, grabbing up all he can before his grabbin’ hand blackens completely.

Can’t be much harder than Iwo Jima, right, Senator Graham? Perhaps that’s merely a unit of measurement in Lindsey’s bloody geometry. An Iwo Jima of young lives cut short. A Guadalcanal of widows.

Speaking of death, the Offal in Oval took a tacky little victory lap when Bob Mueller passed, and everyone was super impressed. And proud. I myself saw a bald eagle cry and a cherry tree sprung up where the eagle’s tear hit the ground and George Washington chopped that cherry tree down and made a bunch of wooden teeth. THAT’S how great America is again.

If you’re mad they’ve decided to slap a certain cognitive test-passer’s filthy signature on our currency, you’re really gonna hate the bit in Project 2029 where they tattoo it on every newborn in the nation.

America has a brand-new sweetheart: U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement! Seems like only yesterday they were gunning us down in the street, but there’s essentially nothing I can’t forgive once I see a guy handing out bottles of water. So I think we can declare mission accomplished on this particular redemption tour and get back to violating everybody’s fundamental human rights.

Incidentally, DOJ confessed that ICE never had the slightest fucking right to stage any of those grotesque arrests at immigration courthouses. If you were illegally detained by ICE, you may be entitled to a coupon good for one (1) package of generic, Oreo-like sandwich cookies at the foreign torture gulag commissary of your choosing.

The airport delays aren’t improving, of course, though future generations may not be able to grasp just how many water bottles those ICE agents passed out. With their muscles. Which are “much larger, and harder, muscles than most,” as observed by our Dearest of Leaders, who famously can guess a man’s shoe size from as much as nine feet away.

One billion taxpayer dollars are to be sent to a French energy company to bribe them into abandoning a couple of offshore wind projects, saving another eleventy billion American lives from Windmill Turbine Cancer, a very real thing that happens all the time.

And as much fun as I had paying for that, coughing up my share of Mike Flynn’s $1.2 million settlement was probably my favorite abuse of the U.S. Treasury this week. On the other hand, there’s that $1.2 billion they’re embezzling from the State Department into the warmongers’ “Board of Peace.” Gosh, it’s so hard to choose. But I don’t suppose we don’t need to. Or get to.

Despite Aileen Cannon’s best efforts, some new details from Jack Smith’s investigation leaked. I guess one of the documents that rapist stole was classified so hard only six people were allowed to see it. Media reports failed to specify how many people were allowed to store this document in their bathroom, however.

I see Pete Hegseth’s pastor wants to crucify James Talarico. Those Trump Bibles must skip over some stuff, y’know? Mike Johnson’s copy is clearly missing the bit about the golden calf, for example.

Given the above, it’s no surprise the Dotard’s endorsement no longer carries much weight in his (heh) home district. Yeah, we’re already doing Sharia law at Mar-a-Lago, which should help with the health code violations.

Short tonight! Definitely missed some stuff this week, as I am making awkward, flailing stabs at networking at C2E2. Speaking of which, big news is incoming about the COMIC BOOK, so be on the lookout, Kickstarter backers! If you didn’t back the Kickstarter, fear not; another opportunity is juuuuuust around the corner.

In the meantime, boy howdy I need a beer. Fascism PLUS networking? That’s just unfair. Feel free to kick a buck or two into the ol’ beer fund (via Venmo, PayPal, or Cash App), or join my email list, or follow @john_luzar. But whatever you do, please oh please stay safe out there, me hearties…

I regret to inform you the men who wear literal, actual, I-shit-you-not-this-is-happening-in-real-fucking-life clown shoes to work (at, heaven help us, the White House and Pentagon) haven’t quite figured out how war works yet, but I’m sure they’ll pick it up. Give it two weeks. How hard can it be?

A whole new expanded edition of The Art of the Deal is being rushed to press, updated to include the Dotard’s deft diplomacy this week, as he briefly attempted to assemble an international coalition for the war he’d already started.

SURE WOULD BE COOL IF SOMEBODY BAILED ME OUT OF THIS MESS I MADE he mused, almost coquettishly, causing a brief, involuntary, “can you believe this asshole” laugh to escape the entire international community at once.

Oddly enough, after more than a year of tariffs and periodic threats of invasion, our longtime allies seem to have misplaced their cavalries. So it is to be Americans alone who have the privilege of dying for Jared Kushner’s private equity firm.

Still, it’s only a matter of time before the whole world lines up behind the hot new war that has everyone wondering, “Are the people running this country clinically insane?” and, “No, seriously, what the fuck are we even doing here?” I fear Japanese recruitment centers won’t be able to handle the sheer volume of volunteers signing up to bleed for the guy with the hilarious, hilarious Pearl Harbor jokes.

Every red-blooded American boy wants to be part of this, just to say he was there! Why, to risk your young life for such strategically sound warfightin’ hardly counts as risk at all!

Take, for example, the way the exceptionally stable geniuses in charge either decommissioned or redeployed our minesweeping ships in the region, even as the Iranian regime mining the Strait of Hormuz was widely expected. Or the way Kash Patel gutted the counterintelligence unit monitoring Iranian threats in one of those purges he squeezes in around taxpayer-funded vacations with his girlfriend.

While these might seem like blunders, your Uncle Sam would rather you considered the possibility that what they really are is OPPORTUNITIES FOR GLORY! Yes, it could be YOUR boots on the ground on exotic Kharg Island, in service to a dying narcissist’s fantasies of empire (plus also the Kushner thing)!

Once you’ve arrived, the president’s BFF will help the Iranian military target you, because there’s a cuck chair in the Situation Room now.

Don’t worry, though; the U.S. government has responded to this treachery by imposing new sanctions on the —hang on, I’m receiving an update. Excuse me, by LIFTING sanctions. It’s a really nice cuck chair. It’s got those temperature-controlled cup holders.

They’re already demanding 200 billion additional dollars for their Special Military Operation (theatrically Russian wink), at least half of which is reportedly earmarked for Badass Action Movie One-Liner workshops for Secretary Hegseth.

How lucky are we to have white Christian nationalism’s smoothest brain running the Pentagon?

Of course I’ve always found fanatical religious certainty unsettling, but in a fellow who has beclowned himself on history’s largest stages with such regularity, it’s more confusing than anything. Or perhaps I just don’t remember the Bible stories about Jesus blowing up schools full of children. You’re way too dumb to be any god’s chosen vessel, Pete.

In special subterranean bunkers designed to emulate their moms’ basements, you’ll find a legion of MAGA’s creepiest weirdos “grinding away on banger memes” to manufacture consent for regime change or re-obliterating the already obliterated Iranian nuclear program or whatever Grandpa said last.

Given that this war, excuse me, “excursion,” excuse me, “flaccid fascist frolic,” polls as the least popular yet documented, perhaps the memes don’t bang quite as hard as advertised. And in 9 out of 10 cases, I get upset thinking about all the kakistocrats drawing government salaries, but I’m happy to open my wallet for counterproductive messaging.

Still, every dignified transfer represents a new fundraising opportunity. Sure, sometimes the family might request privacy, but who cares what the suckers and losers think? Made-in-China baseball caps ain’t gonna market themselves.

One Reich official actually resigned on principle over the war, which sounded promising until you realized it was Joe Kent, because Joe Kent’s “principles” are a fetid porridge of the racist dorkosphere’s zaniest misconceptions. Lord knows the nation is healthier with Joe spooning anti-Semitically with Tucker Carlson rather than directing national counterterrorism operations, but perhaps this can serve as a small launching pad for a wider discussion of human resources issues?

For example, we also learned of a high-ranking official in the Federal Emergency Management Agency who claims to have teleported. To a Waffle House. I don’t want to tell anybody how to staff their kakistocracy, but maybe management isn’t the right spot for that guy.

Anyway, Kent’s facing some retaliatory investigatin’, of course, just like the recently defenestrated comedy duo of Noem & Lewandowski. Don’t worry though, MAGA apparatchiks! He’ll stay loyal to YOU!

Quite a few failed autocrats are hitting the job market these days. Ric Grenell, having bungled his gig so hard that there is literally no work left to do, announced his departure from the temporarily defiled Kennedy Center. Lil’ Greggie Bovino’s officially a free agent too, though I’m hearing rumblings that Erik Prince wants him to spearhead a revival of the old Pinkerton brand.

The security of the homeland will just have to settle for Markwayne Mullin, I suppose. Understanding he’s “not going to be the smartest guy in any room” elevates Mullin miles above the existing Cabinet ethically, but they’ll beat the humility out of him at the hazing ceremony, I’m sure.

You know Linda McMahon runs that shit. Degrading carny rituals from the world of pro wrestling. There’s a photograph of a couple of oiled-up billionaires in a vault somewhere that Scott Bessent thinks about every time they send him out to tell the public that, say, they’re removing sanctions on the country we’re actively at war with.

Though I maintain Markwayne would be happier to be dropped into a bottomless pit alongside Rand Paul so they could hiss and spit and slap away at one another for all eternity.

I like it when they fight. Each other, that is. Mark Levin has a micropenis, but Megyn Kelly is a harlot, apparently. Y’know what? I’m not gonna get a scorecard today; I’m just gonna have a couple of beers and enjoy the spectacle of the worst people alive ripping each other to ribbons.

One of the president’s dirtbag chums got ICE to deport the mother of his child, settling a bitter custody battle with fashy finality. So our oligarch overlords are to be permitted power to commandeer the masked, unaccountable secret police force for personal grudges? Neat! I mean, I prefer what we had under the Constitution, but all this lawlessness is certainly exciting.

Why, I’ve never been so distracted from the Epstein files. If there were some hypothetical new email that contradicted another chunk of the president’s ever-shifting alibi, I was way too distracted to notice it or write about it in my blog.

Oh, and I guess we’re dabbling in a lil’ light human rights violation with Cuba. It’s not as big as Greenland, obviously, but a certain megalomaniac would still gladly settle for the “honor” of “taking” it.

Plus, we’re blackmailing Zambia. Sort of a give-us-your-mineral-wealth-or-we’ll-cut-off-HIV-aid kinda deal, which is…I think it’s fair to call that evil. Blowing up schoolchildren certainly merits that label. The predictable carnage from gutting USAID was pretty dang evil, to say nothing of the assassinated nurses and deportations to foreign torture prisons and I know what you’re thinking right now.

You’re thinking, “Let’s mint this man a gold coin with his face on it!”

The banners were great and slapping his name on another man’s memorial was epic and of course I intend to ecstatically self-immolate at the ballroom dedication ceremony like every other right-thinking patriot, but let’s give the mad king another graven image to tide him over between peace prizes.

Please convert any beer fund donations (via PayPal, Cash App, or Venmo) into golden Trump coins. I heard a rumor that if you use them to pay your gas tithe and your tariff tithe, you can summon minor demons. They can’t, like, cure baldness or anything major like that, but they’ll get you a government job even if you believe you teleported into a fucking Waffle House. You just have to manage your expectations.

(Yes, yes, sign up for emails, follow @john_luzar, and as always…stay safe out there…)

Readers periodically express concern for my mental well-being, which I get. Staring into MAGA’s puckered butthole for a decade isn’t anything I’d recommend as a rest cure, but certain responsibilities come with the bathrobe and luchador mask.

That said, I do ask for your sympathy during this difficult period. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to write satire while men wearing literal clown shoes learn war is hard in real time?

So, I unplugged from the ol’ shit-flooded zone while I went on my birthday adventure, and let me say, as someone who typically spends several hours a day staring into the aforementioned butthole…it’s legitimately shocking how much crazier shit got during those ten days.

The shoe thing makes me mad because I should have thought of it first. I should’ve written a joke, right when Dug Bugman and Congressman Kofi Kingston started dressing like Fashy Daddy, about the whole Cabinet wearing shoes that don’t fit because they lack the strength and self-respect to tell him “guessing shoe sizes at a glance” is not among his many cognitive superpowers.

Y’know, if the Founders could’ve foreseen the breadth and depth of 21st-century America’s brainrot, they’d’ve tacked a companion Bill of Responsibilities onto the Constitution, too. The 11th Amendment would’ve been “Um, if you’re somehow ethically incapable of showing up to work in shoes that fit, you’re not allowed to wage war.” You wouldn’t think you’d a need Constitution to tell you that, but we are very, very dumb.

Madison proposes all this seemingly nonsensical shit after a harrowing visit from a man in a bathrobe, claiming to be a time-traveller. “Verily, though I know not what a ‘reality television show host’ be, James was quite insistent they be barred from public service. We may as well humour him.”

If you’re still reading this, my plan, uh, didn’t work.

Sloppy old fool cannot handle even the ceremonial duties of his office. (The 42nd Amendment of the Bill of Responsibilities mandates caning for anyone who wears merch to a dignified transfer.)

As predicted, the Maduro Excursion gave the Kooky Kakistocrat Kabal both a taste for war and the conviction that they’re awesome at it. Life was to be all skipping and cupcakes and regime change from here on out, surely.

Alas.

Exactly, fucking EXACTLY like Putin sending troops into combat packing dress uniforms for the victory parade that’s only about 1,460 days late, it seems as though no one bothered to prepare contingency plans for any outcome other than instant capitulation.

HEY NO FAIR MINING THE STRAIT OF HORMUZ tweets our hopelessly overmatched Commander-in-Chief, utterly flummoxed at the idea that the country he attacked might fight back. Which is what happens in most wars, when you think about it. See, this is the shit they don’t get to on those cognitive tests.

Yes, because thinking is too much to ask of our government, we get to pay a fun new idiot gas tax on top of all those fun tariffs. Putin, meanwhile, gets sanctions relief plus a big, fat bailout, even though he’s (checks notes) aiding the enemy. I may be just the teeeeeniest bit tired of winning.

Fox Nooz yapping head Brian Kilmeade doesn’t understand why all those sissy-ass tanker captains hesitate to plunge into the line of fire for king n’ country. “Don’t they know that every man who gives his life for the Dotard’s approval rating receives 47 Trump Buxx in table credit to spend at ANY Trump-branded resort in the MAGA afterlife?”

Between the economic carnage and the wholesale slaughter of children, the war has been polling pretty poorly, but what you have to understand is that all that negativity is entirely balanced out by Lindsey Graham’s obscene glee. CUBANEXTCUBANEXTCUBANEXT he bleats, desperate to squeeze as much murder as possible out of the old man before the cankles pop.

Still, it won’t be long before the Reich’s crack comms squad turns things around, public opinion-wise. Personally, all my fears melted away the minute I saw Dear Leader in his widdle uniform, from when his dirtbag parents bought a brief window of peace and quiet by shipping him to military school. And who doesn’t love a good draft, right?

Plus, riding to the rescue of beloved cultural institutions Ticketmaster and Live Nation has to be good for at least three points.

WE’VE BEEN AT WAR WITH IRAN FOR FORTY-SEVEN YEARRRRRRRRRRRRRS!

What? No, we haven’t. There would’ve been something about it on TV. The Iron Sheik would never have been permitted to compete for the World Wrestling Federation title during a live war, don’t be silly.

I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun watching JD attempt to scooch away from the burgeoning quagmire without losing his spot in the line of succession to Little Marco, by the way.

Secretary Funsoxx can’t wait for regime-aligned oligarchs to take over the rest of the American media, so people will stop pestering him about all those children he butchered. Also, no one is allowed to publish photographs where he doesn’t look hot. Gotta look hot while you’re raining death down on schools.

Naturally, Petey wasn’t the only prominent official to melt down at a press conference this week (Nancy Mace must be giving seminars), as Jeanine Pirro blessed us with a glimpse of her famous coping skills following her latest faceplant.

Poor Jeanine was just about to get not just Jerome Powell but his little dog, too, but mean ol’ Judge Boasberg had to go and enforce the dumb ol’ law. And this is right after she had to concede defeat in the Case of Joe Biden’s Autopen, which you’ll remember from Book 12 of the beloved YA paperback series about a bumbling alcoholic wannabe autocrat who consistently fails to indict her fat, stupid, loser boss’ enemies.

I was feeling pretty smug about that MAGA Men Humiliated After Being Duped by AI Foot Fetish Model story until I heard Hegseth wants to appoint her to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Always nice to see the Secretary of State snappin’ selfies with domestic terrorists. That’s when you know your democracy is at its healthiest and stablest.

I see Kristi Noem collected her wages while I was away. Looks like total excommunication, and perhaps even a little corruption investigation to boot. Just because she was a catastrophic failure as DHS Secretary doesn’t mean she won’t make a perfectly functional scapegoat.

Kash Patel was SO excited to tell the world he was bringing in UFC fighters to train FBI agents, and I have to assume the reader has died from embarrassment by this point. Your cats are already eating you.

So I guess one of Elon’s DOGE incels stole everybody’s Social Security numbers? Golly. We should probably arrest that kid, though of course most federal law enforcement is probably still tied up on Stephen Miller’s deranged crusade. Construction workers to torment, preschoolers to terrorize. You gotta prioritize.

Certainly can’t go after anybody in those Epstein files. Say, weren’t we just talking about some rich, powerful dude who was credibly accused of sexually assaulting a minor? I could probably think of his name if I wasn’t so distracted by the war he started.

MAGA Congressdork Andy Ogles has been refining his personal brand of late, honing in on his pathetic, anti-American gutter bigotry. Hope everybody back home in the Tennessee fifth is real proud.

I guess the new head of the College Republicans is this prepubescent groyper dork called Kai Schwemmer, so the future is in appropriately inadequate hands. If you’d like to spend even more time down the dispiriting rabbit hole that is young MAGA manhood, here’s a darrrrrrk little article about a gross little man running in the Republican gubernatorial primary down in DeSantistan.

Say, there seems t’be a bit of a, how shall I put this, a naked, unapologetic hatred problem in the GOP. Some pollster should look into that; I bet they’d find some…hang on, I’m being handed an envelope…YIKES.

Yikes all around, friends. America feels like one of those snowballs that rolls downhill in a cartoon, getting bigger and bigger, only it’s not snow it’s poop.

Oh my goodness, I require beer. Wouldn’t say no to any donations to the beer fund (now accepting Cash App, PayPal, and Venmo!), that’s for sure. Stay safe out there; you don’t want to miss the midterms, because we are gonna whoop these fools from sea to shining sea.

(Follow @john_luzar and sign up on the dang e-mail list, btw.)

Today is my birthday. My 47th, as it happens. While it’s unlikely there’s any supernatural mojo to be harvested there, I sacrificed an extra virgin on my altar to the God of Cankles just in case. Don’t worry, no one ever misses these incel White House interns. Anyhoo, if the deathsplotch requires a little more makeup to conceal tonight, that’s the power of prayer, bay-bee.

Still, the Dotard defied the skeptics, maintaining sphincter control throughout the entirety of the longest State of the Union speech in two hundred and fifty years of this increasingly wacky experiment.

Or maybe he didn’t. Did he shit himself? Or declare war on Iran? Or Denmark? Or Gondor? Perhaps a “friendly takeover” of Cuba? Like most of America, I didn’t watch. I was too busy staring at the page-a-day calendar I bought to count down to the midterms.

Oh man, remember back when Congress was a, whatchamacallit, a co-equal branch of the whole dang federal government instead of a third-rate poodle circus? I’ll admit I was kinda impressed when Troy Nehls got all the way up on his hind legs for that autograph, though.

Mike Johnson is never Christliker than when he’s shielding powerful sexual abusers from accountability, so I look forward to the Mel Gibson movie about defending an absolute taintmaggot like Tony Gonzales for the sake of the majority. “I n-needed his help to fund the concentration camps,” he pleads before a grimly chuckling St. Peter.

I give Speaker Moses a lotta shit, but there’s poetry in the man, if only accidentally. “If we lost the majority in the House, it would be the end of the Trump presidency in a real effect.” Why, Michael, that’s lovely. Direct. Conjures what’s wonderful about the world to come with elegance and simplicity.

…assuming American democracy survives the latest assault from the Flynn/Lindell wing of the MAGA asylum. There is to be an executive order (yes, again) laying claim to vast, extraconstitutional powers (yes, again) in the name of some ill-defined “national emergency.” YES. AGAIN. Chinese bamboo fibers have infiltrated our precious bodily fluids, you see, and thus we cannot be trusted to vote.

The courts probably won’t go for it, but you never know when some nail-gun-wielding true believer might open up a spot for Aileen Cannon. Then we can revisit this tariff thing, too.

Although I suppose we can just keep on charging the new mega-tariffs the Supreme Court unwittingly unleashed under the Nuh Uh Clause, which the president can activate just by thinking about. I’m excited to pay these new illegal taxes to the very government that petulantly refuses to refund the money they previously stole from me. Perhaps I’ll have the opportunity to finance my own tear-gassing someday soon.

The Reich continues withholding big, fat chunks of the Epstein files, in direct defiance of the law. All the bits about the woman who accused the president of sexually assaulting her when she was a minor are missing, of course, likely because the Justice Department is worried that if they exonerate him too hard, the citizenry will enter into an irrevocable state of religious ecstasy.

Just because the president announces he’s sending a hospital ship to Greenland doesn’t mean he’s actually sending a hospital ship to Greenland. Of course, Greenland doesn’t want or need a hospital ship, and there aren’t any hospital ships to send anyway…the bungling is almost kinda charming when nobody gets hurt.

HOWEVER.

I imagine everyone slept extra soundly after hearing about Secretary Funsoxx’s attempt to bully the Pentagon’s AI partners into removing ethical safeguards. Nothing to worry about, just the stuff about mass surveillance and autonomous killing. This is how you get Terminators, right? Obviously they’ll be branded as “Warfighters” in this timeline, and instead of plugging us passively into the Matrix, they’ll force us to do pushups at gunpoint.

We might be better off. Under the current kakistocracy, with beef prices soaring, administration officials keep nudging us towards alternative proteins, so the golden age may be a ways off yet. And sure, history teaches us to beware of machine intelligences bearing steaks, but I am truly, sincerely looking to change horses midstream, folks.

Kash Patel demonstrated admirable fiscal restraint in flying only himself to Milan at taxpayer expense to crash the men’s Olympic hockey team’s victory party, rather than taking his girlfriend along. Frankly, I don’t see how it’s possible to run the FBI, let alone conduct regular purges, without a private mile-high love nest like they’ve got over at DHS.

Boy, MAGA sure tried to glom onto that hockey team (BUT JUST THE MEN HAW HAW HAW), didn’t they? I get that. There’s been so little winning lately they’ve probably forgotten what winning feels like. Then Turd Midas went and did his thing, because even photo ops with championship athletes are beyond the capacity of people this subpar.

The regime announced a fresh round of sanctions targeting Russia this week, after…hang on, that’s not quite right. Targeting MINNESOTA, excuse me. Russia got a half-assed attempt to water down a pro-Ukraine resolution at the United Nations, even after Pootkins didn’t even RSVP to Donnie’s Super Bowl party.

Under Gruppenführer Homan, ICE has largely managed to avoid showy daytime executions, allowing a frankly obscene level of atrocity to slide neatly into the shit-flooded slipstream that is the American consciousness. Who can be bothered to notice the blind refugee you’ve sociopathically abandoned in the middle of nowhere to die in the streets when you’re yanking aircraft carrier groups to and fro?

Candace Owens says Erika Kirk killed her husband in cahoots with The Jews, who didn’t even use a space laser, which feels disrespectful. MAGA figures from Chris Rufo to Alex Jones to Laura Loomer just cannot figure out how such a blatant nutcase/rabid anti-Semite found an audience amidst the birthers and big liars and doomsday prep kit salesmen.

Yeah, it’s a mystery. The newest wingnut YouTube “journalist” calling to “EXPOSE” the “Jewish invasion” is equally mysterious, as is the revelation that a prominent MAGA troll account that enjoyed the recent Obamas-as-apes video has been operated by a White House staffer. Somebody should get to the bottom of all these mysterious, mysterious mysteries.

Byron Donalds (allegedly) affected a Jamaican accent in college in an effort to appear interesting. Must be a relief to wind up in a cult where everybody dresses the same. Well, if there’s one thing we know about the statewide electorate in Florida, it’s how much they love unimpressive men, so go ahead and measure those drapes, mon.

Okay, it’s my birthday; 7I’m allowed to stop now. I’m actually going to take next week OFF to go on a little adventure, so I’ll see y’all in a bit! Accepting birthday beers (via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal) until I pass out in the alley behind Carol’s. COMICS COMING SOON, so stay safe out there, m’lovelies…

America passed the “measles outbreak in the children’s concentration camp” milestone this week, but the President definitely didn’t shit his pants. Whatever you may think of the despotism or the inflation or the raw, racist hate, he did not shit his pants.

He was actually the one Republican anywhere in the country who didn’t soil themselves after Democrat Taylor Rehmet won that special election in a Texas state Senate district that voted Dotard by a profoundly embarrassing 17 points in 2024.

Can’t say I was surprised to see a 31-point red state swing trigger the wannabe autocrat’s cornered rat instincts. He says he wants to nationalize our elections, “take over the voting,” probably count the ballots personally by hand, which’d be hard enough with those stunted baby fingers but next to impossible with a full diaper.

I don’t know why I brought that up, as he did not shit himself this week.

Still, Bannon imagines elite ICE Nursekiller Squadrons patrolling polling places this November, which, I’ll agree, is absolutely what it’d take to stave off the blue tsunami heading his way.

Have you ever been so excited to vote in your life? Why, I’ve asked Ma to sew me a special Referendum on Kakisto-Fascism dress, with a bright red bow and a gas mask just in case.

Anyway, in some setting other than idly scrolling while Susie Wiles powdered his bum during his nightly changing, the Offal in the Oval posted a video racist enough to prompt even Tim Scott to retrieve his atrophied spine from the local pawn shop.

“How uncharacteristically racist of you, sir,” wheezed what passed for the bravest handful of the GOP’s domesticated legislator class. “Please do not target my loved ones for a lifetime of harassment for saying so. Perhaps there are a few remaining powers we could cede to you?”

Of course, the one true currency in the age of a dying megalomaniac is “shit he can rename after himself,” ideally at or around the monument level. He told Chuck Schumer he’d unfreeze the billions in infrastructure funding he’s illegally withholding from the Gateway Tunnel Project in exchange for desecrating Penn Station and Dulles Airport with his sad, flaccid brand. (Rumors that he responded to Schumer’s rejection by shitting himself are just that — rumors.)

I suppose with an essential transportation hub, you’re less likely to need to shut the joint down because no one wants to even enter a building you slapped your filthy name on. Sure didn’t take long for Turd Midas to work his magic on the Kennedy Center, huh? Now we wait and see if he tears it down for materials to build his Big Dumb Arch.

Y’know, I keep hearing we’re in a culture war, but if so, it’s against Lilliputians without the sense to tie us down while we sleep.

Like, I see Kid Rock has been tapped to deliver the Republican rebuttal to the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Yes, the guy who has been a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence for so long that it feels lazy to use him as a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence.

When you heard there was gonna be a TPUSA Counter-Halftime for Muricans Who Dislike Browns, you went to post a joke about how they’d probably get Kid Rock, but you stopped yourself because everybody’s gonna post a Kid Rock joke, and you pushed yourself to find something about maybe Scott Baio’s new cover band that performs only Hitlerjugend anthems, but then they actually couldn’t do better than Kid Rock.

Now, the other big MAGA culture war gambit involves dragging a statue of Christopher Columbus out of the harbor in Baltimore, where protesters dumped it during the George Floyd protests, to display near the White House. It is my understanding that I am to be “triggered” by this action. I’ll…do my best.

Anyway, Kid Kankles wonders what’s the point of weaponizing the Justice Department if none of your persecutors, excuse me, “prosecutors,” can shoot straight? Sorry, dork. Hazards of kakistocracy. Oh, you’re just now figuring out that Ed Martin is part of the problem? Maybe y’all can pressure Harvard into offering Remedial Tyranny.

Under Gruppenführer Homan, ICE has endeavored to violate our fundamental civil rights in a slightly less attention-grabbing manner. It’s easier somehow to get away with setting up checkpoints and terrorizing children when you’re not gunning white people down in the streets.

Working as a lawyer for the masked, unaccountable secret police force apparently “sucks” owing to the sheer volume of the laws they break. Perhaps the next wave of recruitment ads could target white nationalist bureaucrats somehow?

A $500 million bribe lobbed into one of the Trump family cryptocurrency buckets dotting the White House lawn earned the United Arab Emirates access to America’s most advanced AI chips, though no portion of that bribe was paid in adult diapers, whatever you may’ve heard.

The regime released another batch of the Epstein files, though of course censoring the nude photos and redacting victims’ names first proved too complex a task. Maybe DHS can offer a series of intensive boot camps where MAGA’s best and brightest can learn how to read and use a black marker.

Today in Unhelpfully Feeding a Narcissist’s Ego, some crypto douches hit upon the frankly banal idea of building a gilded, $300,000, 15-foot-tall statue of Jeffrey Epstein’s favorite wonderful secret sharer, because it’s been over a year since anybody went broke kissing that particular ass, which, again, did not void itself into his pants during that press conference.

Nancy Mace faced calls from former staffers to swap electoral politics for desperately needed therapy, but I’m sure she alleviated any concerns by launching into a series of easily disproven lies about her drinking habits.

So I guess Tulsi Gabbard is such a threat to national security that even the whistleblower complaints against her are classified at the highest levels. I suppose loyalty isn’t a particularly important quality when your job is undermining your own nation’s elections.

Jeff Bezos decided he wanted to be remembered as the free American press’ greatest betrayer, so I bet his mom’s real proud. “My boy became one of the richest people of all time, forcing himself onto history’s stage through sheer will, at which point he revealed himself to all the world as, at his deepest core, a bag of moldy dicks.”

Keeping with the subject, Elon Musk’s latest contribution to humanity is an AI chatbot that generates ever more deviant child pornography for his carefully cultivated social media audience of white supremacist megacreeps, and I think Democrats should shut the government down until he’s deported straight to CECOT.    

The Reich’s Ambassador to Poland decided to jeopardize relations with one of our strongest allies because a single legislator said Trump “does not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize.” Future generations will wonder how an entire political party fit up a single rapist’s ass.

“They ALL lived up there, Grandpa? The whole time? While he was tanking the economy an’ mocking prayer at the Prayer Breakfast an’ everything?”

They sure did, Timmy.

But he didn’t shit his pants.

Pinky swear.

Hey, did everybody who pledged to the Kickstarter get their digital copy of the latest comic book? I’d love to hear what you think! Tell me in the comments, or @john_luzar. Perhaps you were so moved you’d like to buy me a beer? GOOD NEWS: you can, via PayPal, Venmo, or Cash App!

Okay, I’m spent. Stay safe out there. Don’t shit your pants.

I’ll try to make this quick since I know you’re reading this in line between showings of the Melania movie.

Stephen Miller was so excited, he treated himself to an extra vole. After all the years of creeping authoritarianism, it was time at last to lunge. A small army of Glad Lads n’ Oath Loaders roamed the streets of Minneapolis in masks, picking fights the way only a paramilitary gang promised total immunity can.

“If you raise your voice, I will erase your voice,” proffered one of the warrior poets of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Seems like we may’ve wandered a bit from the path of “Give me liberty or give me death,” but don’t ask me, I’m just a frog sitting in a pot of room-temperature wate-HEY WAIT A MINUTE!  

The Reich, comprised as it is of the dumbest of all possible motherfuckers, truly believed their siege turned the whole dang news cycle into one long, super effective infomercial for their planned police state.

“Once the public has learned to tremble at Antifa’s fearsome war cry (‘I’m not mad at you,’  shudder), they’ll beg for ICE garrisons in every hometown!”

But a funny thing happened on the way to the Reichstag fire. Far from being greeted as liberators, the likes of Trump, Miller, and Noem found themselves immortalized in song as tyrants by no less a laureate than Bruce Springsteen.

Yeah, it took America fifty or sixty stanzas, but we got there. “Okay, so I said nothing about the Kurds or the Haitians or the Somalis or the Ukrainians, but when they came for the ICU nurses, I had to admit certain patterns had grown difficult to ignore.”

Polling got so bad so fast that Greggie Bovino was deemed the Littlest Scapegoat and sent to a farm upstate, where he’ll have plenty of room to march around in his coat.

Attempts to demonize one victim caused President Dotard to casually betray core gun nut dogma, but the Cold Dead Handz crowd could barely muster a handful of scattered, disapproving yaps, because the right to lick a rapist game show host’s boots till they shine like glass SHALL NOT BE INFRINGED.

Hard to understand where it all went wrong, but somehow, between tear-gassing little kids and using them as bait plus abusing and detaining countless legal immigrants and even citizens to say nothing of gunning peaceful protesters down in the street and slandering them as terrorists, ICE wound up the boogeyman even in Republicans’ own fundraising emails. 

Soon the halls of DHS were painted with the flung fecal matter of kakisto-fascism’s assorted bickering factions. Kristi Noem was just following orders, you see, and mostly from stylists. When Tom Homan emerges as the least of available evils, you’re not exactly in the running for the cover of Healthy Democracies Monthly. (I’m told the upcoming Mark Carney centerfold is borderline filthy, however.)

Time to bring the temperature down a bit. Listen to the people. Deescalate.

…or I suppose arresting a bunch of journalists and storming the Ecuadorian consulate is another option, sure.

As usual, they had to elbow past numerous career DOJ prosecutors to find somebody ethically challenged enough to pursue the Don Lemon “case,” presumably Lindsey Halligan with a fake mustache and monocle.

Incidentally, just because Tulsi Gabbard doesn’t officially work with the FBI doesn’t mean she can’t tag along on their shady raid of that elections center in Fulton County, Georgia. Under weaponized law enforcement, stooges are fungible, you see.

Gotta rewrite history just how the dying megalomaniac wants it before he orders the entire hemisphere embalmed and entombed to serve him in the afterlife.

Flustered in his Greenlandic fantasies, he’s taking a flaccid swipe at…wait, this can’t be right…partnering with Albertan separatists? Another foreign policy gambit that reads like a rejected Team America: World Police sequel. I have no idea what Albertan separatists have to be mad about, but I bet it’s dumb.

He’s also trying to sneak ten billion taxpayer dollars out the front door via a lawsuit targeting the I.R.S. and the Treasury Department, while Secretary Bessent pimps “Trump Accounts” as an alternative to holiday gift-giving, because even two dolls is capitalist decadence when you think about it. 

While forgetting the word for Alzheimer’s doesn’t technically constitute failing a cognitive test, maybe the White House press corps should start showing up prepared with a few flash cards with drawings of barnyard animals.

Because Albertan separatists? Fuck you. 

I see some specimen of MAGA masculinity calling itself Anthony James Kazmierczak decided to douse Ilhan Omar with a syringeful of salad dressing, which’ll impress everybody in prison a whole bunch, I bet.

We have enough for a calendar by now, surely. The hammer guy and the nail gun guy and Kyle Rittenhouse, blubbering coquettishly on a witness stand. Get some of that Botox bubblin’ down at Mar-a-Lago.

No, I don’t think the twerp who punched Maxwell Frost deserves a slot. It’s a competitive field, and if you can’t even pull off the most memorable assault on a sitting U.S. Representative in a given week, y’know, leave a headshot, and we’ll get back to you when we’re ready to make the leap to page-a-day.

Where so many see a constitutional crisis, Nicki Minaj sees a branding opportunity, reinventing herself as the Official Rapper of Shooting Moms, Making Groceries More Expensive, and Threatening Wars of Aggression with Denmark. She’ll have her pick of dates at the Kennedy Center anyway.

Enjoy your new friends, Nicki! They think you’re the WAP girl, but definitely not because you all look alike to them!

You can learn all about them in this latest wave of Epstein files. Couple stories in there you might want to brush up on before holding hands, actually.

In conclusion, I do not like ascendant American fascism. I do not like it, Sam-I-Ashism.

Okay. Well, I’m off to seek what solace the local beer dispensary can offer. I sure won’t be mad at anybody who drops a buck or two in the tip jar via Venmo, PayPal, or even Cash App.

Hey, IF YOU BACKED THE LATEST COMIC BOOK KICKSTARTER, your DIGITAL COPIES are now available! Check the latest updates! I’m juuuuuuust about to close late pledges, because GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE #2 is on its way!

As always, sign up on the email list and follow @john_luzar. I’m thinking of upgrading my traditional “stay safe out there” signoff to something like “don’t get killed by fascists.” We’ll workshop it.

Well, the (First?) Greenland War was as needlessly destabilizing as it was unendurably embarrassing, but at least we lost.

I’ve never been so happy to see TACO Trump. TACO Trump is the best Trump by miles.

Drunk with Blood and Power, Convinced Regime Change is Fun n’ E-Z Trump has not been my favorite stop on this particular narcissist’s mental decline.

Regardless, our pants-shitting manchild president sent a threatening letter to the Prime Minister of Norway. AS YOU HAVE FAILED TO HONOR ME AS A MAN OF PEACE, NOW YOU SHALL FIND ME A MAN OF WAR, he furiously mashed out with those stunted baby hands.

(If you’re just waking up from a Rip Van Winkler, we’re toying with the idea of invading a NATO ally, to conquer Greenland, and thus avenge Dear Leader’s Nobel snub. The Peace Prize War. Who writes this shit?)

Then came the tariff threats, naturally. They sure do enjoy threatening folks, have you noticed that? That’s a healthy leadership quality, right? GIMMIE GREENLAND OR I TARIFF YA. JOIN THE FAKE ALTERNATE UNITED NATIONS I JUST MADE UP OR I TARIFF YA.

I shouldn’t mock the Board of Peace, which is a very real organization that cares about peace a whole bunch. That billion-dollar membership fee totally won’t end up in a cave in Qatar alongside pirated Venezuelan oil. Nope, it’s for peace, or perhaps condos on the Gazan territory Jared Kushner has decided he owns.

The effort to manufacture consent for the dumbest conceivable war was, I thought, suitably subpar. Ineffective, certainly. Jesse Watters wants to push on and conquer the Moon next, to establish a sanctuary for men who are afraid to drink from straws.

I thought the draft-dodging coward impugning the courage of allies who bled and died alongside our troops in Afghanistan was a fabulous touch. That metallic creaking sound is the Statue of Liberty physically cringing, by the way.

Still, bursts of authentic imperialist bloodthirst manifested here and there amongst ascendant American fascism’s office dork caste…the Greenland cake was a solid effort, lads, but in the end, we’re talking about an all-time bottom three idea from arguably the dumbest motherfucker who ever lived.

Anyhoo, it was off to Davos for that dementia pageant!

And okay, so he gets a little confused about which nation he’s threatening to attack. I’m sure Hegseth would be just as happy to botch the invasion of Iceland; you can lose $60 million jets anywhere if you set your mind to it.

I thought Carney really showed him up by not getting any countries at all wrong in his speech. Kinda uppity, frankly. Cognitive showboating. Well, it cost you your spot on the Board of Peace, Mr. Smartypants! And now Bessent’s stirring up the Albertan separatists, who’re notoriously susceptible to the wiles of that salt-of-the-earth soybean farmer type.

Putin got an invite to the Board of Peace, but he doesn’t have the billion to spare. Shit, Stephen Miller offered to divvy up Europe Molotov-Ribbentrop-style, but Vlad’s all, “I’d love to, but I couldn’t conquer a Denny’s right now.”

Luckily, the polling was crap and the market screamed, so he chickened out, fabricating one of his famous-if-not-quite-existent “deals,” the details of which will be ready in, you guessed it…two weeks.

While these manic tantrums on the global stage earn the condemnation of Catholic cardinals, it’s on the streets of Minneapolis where Greggie Bovino directs the block-by-block grind to establish a beachhead for a fascist police state, in his widdle coat.

I don’t know if you saw, but we’re not doing the Fourth Amendment anymore. Yeah, there was a memo. I’d always heard you’d need a whole new amendment to repeal such a fundamental right, but no, it turns out all you need is a memo, so if the government feels like dragging you from your home in the freezing cold in your underwear in search of some dude who turns out to be already incarcerated, well…they can do that.

Cuz of the memo.

I wonder if there was a “kidnap children to use as bait” memo, too, or if some enterprising young brownshirt came up with that on the spot? There’s been quite a bit of improvisation, actually, as the masked mediocrity brigade probes the limits of their Miller-granted immunity.

Pam Bondi’s taking wild, enormous swings of her own at the First Amendment, announcing “investigations” into every prominent Minnesota Democrat that fails to send a tasteful gift basket thanking the feds for all the tear gas, and even attempting to prosecute Don Lemon for covering a protest.

Not sure who’ll be handling these cases, since all those prosecutors resigned when they were ordered to go after Renee Good’s widow. Seems the only person in the whole dang state the DoJ doesn’t want to look into is Jonathan Ross, though I suppose all he really did was shoot a human being to death.

It’s not like he expressed disapproval of his government or anything.

Nice to watch the regime backpedal a bit. Even nicer to watch unbowed Americans tell their would-be oppressors where they can shove their unaccountable secret police force.

I see there’s a brand-new blotch on the immortal God Emperor’s non-shakin’ hand, but I’m sure it’s not a parasitic Slovenian blight demon birthing itself into this world or anything. Anyway, if you think his hand looks bad, you should see the portrait hanging in his attic.

Might want to get to work spending that $1.4 billion you’ve grifted off the presidency, boychick, on trophies and hand makeup and one last weekend fling with any remaining piss hookers Pooty hasn’t swapped to North Korea for cannon fodder.

House Judiciary Republicans came at Jack Smith and missed, as is their habit. It’ll be easier to tolerate their bizarre subculture’s incompetence rituals after the midterms, I think.

Looks like one of the DOGE brats leaked Social Security data to a political organization working to “overturn election results in certain states.” Just one more enormous crime we don’t have time to notice. Ah well, let’s sweep it under the rug, with the sayyyyyyyyyyyy whatever happened to them Epstein files, anyway?

During these exhausting times, I try to find solace in nature’s beauty. No doubt you all caught the annual migration of the shitty-bearded warbling cuckold, fleeing its constituents ahead of a winter storm sure to demonstrate the lethal failings of its state’s privatized grid.

Enjoyed watching Bill Cassidy collect his wages. Enjoyed the entire long, humiliating walk to the pay window, actually. It’s always nice to see one of the bad guys lose, even if only to the other bad guys.

Shouldn’t be a senator anyway. Obviously. Cassidy’s not one of the wicked ones; he’s just weak, but weakness gets mighty costly mighty quickly with autocrats constantly testing the fences.

When you look at the path of carnage Bobby Brainworm has hacked through our hard-won public health system…that’s what Bill Cassidy did with his life, y’know? The whole point of Bill Cassidy was to be the guy that said no to this one obviously catastrophic idea…but he was too weak.

Took oaths to do no harm and to support and defend the Constitution, which he has proven too weak to keep.

Leadership is not a good fit for you, Bill. Please step aside before your fecklessness uneradicates any more diseases.

Speaking of the best people, I see Lori Chavez-DeRemer has been running the Department of Labor out of a series of strip clubs around the nation, maintaining a personal booze stash for when they make her work in dumb ol’ Washington. Don’t worry, she won’t be removed from her post or even reprimanded; the whole point of kakisto-fascism is to remove all restraints from our shittiest citizens.

Like Kash Patel, for example. The Failing New York Times gave us a peek behind the curtain at his beclownification of the FBI. Probably not the best idea to let such a vain, petty dweeb purge the senior ranks of such an important law enforcement agency, but we voted to try bad ideas for a while, didn’t we?

The insurance lawyer abandoned her YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME STOOPID JUDGE gambit, so that’s another round to our reigning champ, beat to heck but technically undefeated for just under 250 years…THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT.

Okay. Apologies if I missed an atrocity here or a war there. Shit’s pretty nutty lately.

It goes without saying I need a drink, so if anybody feels like dropping a few bucks in the tip jar (PayPal, Venmo, Cash App, you know the drill), I certainly won’t tackle ya. I’ll keep the comic book Kickstarter open for a liiiiiiiiiiittle while longer, but you can always join the email list and follow @john_luzar. Stay safe (and warm!) out there, friendo…