TWTWTW

Man, what a week, eh? I neglected to stock up on popcorn, and there I was Tuesday evening with nothing but a leftover pork chop to fix for supper when Twitter blew up.

Because sensing that even the understaffed and underfunded investigation into Russian ties to the Kleptocrat and his Gauleiters might still manage to overturn enough rocks and expose some really slimy things, 45 decided that FBI Director James Comey [hadn’t been fair to Hillary Clinton, wasn’t doing a good job, isn’t obsequious enough; was asking for more money to expand the Klepto-Russian investigation, whatever]—or possibly it’s just that it was Tuesday—so he fired him. In a letter hand delivered by a flunky while Comey was in California recruiting prospective FBI agents.

Honestly, you just cannot make this stuff up.

Moreover, the Chaos Monkey gave his mouthpiece chimps about an hour’s warning before making the announcement, and their efforts to ‘splain the “removal and termination” were caught—at the very least—wrong-footed.

One of the most entertaining incidents was press secretary Sean Spicer literally cowering in the bushes outside the White House, insisting that he would not speak about the sacking on camera and demanding that the newsies turn off the lights.

And then, Wednesday—possibly to reinforce his insistence that there are no ties between the Kleptocrat and the Russians—he received Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov and Russia’s ambassador to America, Sergei Kislyak in the Oval Office. US media were barred (even Fox News and Breitbart; go figure), but Russian photographers took pictures and posted them to the Web.

This apparently came as a surprise to the White House. One can only imagine that the decades the Kleptocrat has spent smirking into cameras in the expectation that photographs would subsequently appear in all manner of media did not prepare him for that happening this week.

Well—as you would expect—late-night comedians and social media have been erupting like Krakatoa around the clock.

By way of sampling—because it’s the end of the week, and if ever there were an embaras de richesses, the past few days have produced it—I give you these two.

WRT the new White House garden gnome, there was apparently an update, because Spicey actually called WaPo to “correct” them on what, precisely, he was doing in the shrubbery:

And in re: the not-a-Russian-connection, not-a-Russian-connection, there was also an attempt to explain the whole khaloshes:

Then—apropos of, just, you know—blonde conservative mouthpiece Laura Ingraham was driven to such apoplexy by the removal of monuments in New Orleans to what you could call the biggest losers in American history that her tweeting fingers got way ahead of her brain:

Poor old Laura is not a credit to her alma mater, Mr. Jefferson's university, oh-so-close to his home.

And I think I’m ready for a couple of fingers of single malt. I’m seriously sick of all the winning.