Lordy, we seem to have moved permanently into the ghetto of
Crazytown.
Only a
week ago I thought we’d achieved the pinnacle of idiocy, at least for
March. But, hey—turns out we were only at the base camp and had another 500
meters to climb.
Because the Britain Formerly Known As Great is about to carpet bomb
its economy and lay waste its future because Prime Minister Theresa May is
stuck in a permanent Groundhog Day loop trying to get Parliament to approve the
Brexit agreement she struck with the European Union. Her strategy: keep bringing
the same damned “deal” to the same damned Parliament that vetoed it by historic
margins, apparently in hopes that the lunacy fairies will have sprinkled the
MPs with amnesia dust so they will change their votes and support it.
Well, she would be, except the Speaker of the House nixed bringing
the same damned deal over and over to the same damned Parliament without any
visible changes. So now she’s asking the EU to give her an extension of three
months to enlist more lunacy fairies to carpet bomb the House of Commons (or
maybe just the grotesquely inaptly-named Democratic Ulster Party, whose sole
purpose in political life is to prop up the Protestant Ascendancy like in the
good old days of Oliver Cromwell) with amnesia dust.
Like three months is going to make a blind bit of difference.
But hey—the Tories are getting help. From Uday, who got someone with the understanding of English to plant an opinion piece in the Torygraph about how May should have taken his old man's advice on how to Brexit for fun and profit. Man—I even feel sorry for the Conservatives, that they have to put up with this ludicrous guff from the What A Maroon family.
But hey—the Tories are getting help. From Uday, who got someone with the understanding of English to plant an opinion piece in the Torygraph about how May should have taken his old man's advice on how to Brexit for fun and profit. Man—I even feel sorry for the Conservatives, that they have to put up with this ludicrous guff from the What A Maroon family.
Meanwhile, the Chaos Monkey in the White House is sulking because
he “didn’t get thank you’d” for “approving” the funeral last year for Senator
John McCain, and he’s in simultaneous Twitter spats with Meghan McCain (over
his disparagement of her father) and George Conway, the husband of Klepto
operative and alternative facts proponent Kellyanne. Conway has been a thorn in Kapitan Kompromat’s keister for
a while. This week he tweeted screenshots of the DSM 5’s clinical diagnosis of
Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which prompted even more deranged tweets out
of the White House than usual, rather proving Conway’s point.
And that slimeworm Devin Nunes, who can’t be arsed to do any work
in the House of Representatives that might dislodge his lips from Kaptain
Kompromat’s keister has filed
a lawsuit against Twitter and three Twitter accounts—seeking $250M in
compensatory and $350M in punitive damages because the three accounts say mean
things about him.
We need a state funeral for irony.
One of the objectionable tweets cited in the complaint was Devin Nunes' Mom calling Nunes a "presidential fluffer and a swamp rat." Devin Nunes' Cow averred that "Devin's boots are full of manure" and that he's "whey in over his head in crime."
But here’s the grand thing: two of the tweeters are parody accounts (Devin Nunes’ Mom and
Devin Nunes’ Cow—the slimeworm’s cover story being his family dairy farm near
Fresno that they quietly sold—in 2006—so
they could move to Iowa and hire a steady stream of undocumented laborers to work
the enterprise on the cheap). The Mom account has been deactivated, but the Cow
is still going strong.
And—as of yesterday, a day after the ridiculous suit was filed—the
Cow has thousands more followers than the slimeworm.
Also, many other accounts have changed their names to things like
Devin Nunes’ Cow’s Mom, Devin Nunes’ Moose and the like. Republicans may not be
able to take a joke, but the rest of us definitely can.
Which is good, because—man, this year. Shoot—this
month!
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