Y’all, Look Away. Seriously. Don’t Look At This.

August 23, 2016 By: Juanita Jean Herownself

Holy Christian Dior.


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And Trump immediately tweets that he hasn’t read it.


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I think the part that makes me cringe the most is the E Pluribus Awesome.  Ya know, “out of many, one” is the thing that Republicans are messing with the most.  They don’t like the united part of United States and they sure as hell have no intention of ever, ever, ever becoming one with people who aren’t as white as Coulter.

The other thing Coulter screwed with is replacing God’s name with Trump.

A book.  A damn book.

Thanks to Harvey for the heads up.

It’s a Presidential ATM Machine

August 23, 2016 By: Juanita Jean Herownself

So, you’ve heard that the rent on Donald Trump’s campaign offices in Trump Tower went from $35 thousand to $169 thousand, even though he now has fewer employees working there.

Trump_ScumdogTrump nearly quintupled the monthly rent his presidential campaign pays for its headquarters at Trump Tower to $169,758 in July, when he was raising funds from donors, compared with March, when he was self-funding his campaign, according to a Huffington Post review of Federal Election Commission filings. The rent jumped even though he was paying fewer staff in July than he did in March.

The Trump campaign says it now needs more space.  That’s odd being as how he has fewer staff now.

Oh no, Melania!  Have they got Melania under house arrest there?

Thanks to everybody for the heads up.

Nice Try, Kellyanne

August 22, 2016 By: Juanita Jean Herownself

One day after Kellyanne Conway announced that Donald Trump does not hurl “personal insults,” Trump was found with his finger attached to Twitter to … yeah, hurl personal insults.

Trump is now crossways with Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski.


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Joe responded —

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Trump responded to Joe —

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Okay, so maybe Kellyanne is a little bit right.  He’s not hurling personal insults.  He’s coughing them up like fur balls.


So He Put The Cash In A Bag And Then Set Fire To It

August 22, 2016 By: Juanita Jean Herownself

I want y’all to meet another member of the Texas congressional brain trust.

burgessMichael Burgess, a gynecologist from the Dallas area, took Dick Armey’s seat in congress when Armey retired. Now, you’d think that a gynecologist would have basic biology knowledge and might like women but Burgess is down 2 points on the Sane Person scale.

You probably remember Burgess from his statement that fetuses felt “pain and pleasure” and he knows that for a damn fact because he’s seen male fetuses put their hand between their legs.  Hell, even my newborns would poke themselves in the eye while trying to put their hands anydamnwhere.

But speaking of putting his hand between his legs, Burgess loves, loves, loves Donald Trump.  He loves Trump so much that he’s literally throwing money at him.

Only problem is that some of that money is illegal contributions.  According to experts in this area, a politician can only give $4,000 from his campaign account to another politician.  Burgess is so excited about Donald Trump that he shoved his hand between his legs and pulled out $2,000 over the legal limit.

And then what makes this really weird is that I thought Trump was funding his own campaign.  Hmm …

Thanks to Alfredo over at the Dairy Queen for the heads up.

Final Destination

August 22, 2016 By: Primo Encarnación

This is a little preview I whipped up over the weekend.  Anybody who doesn’t like the sound of it better give me two butts – theirs and one other – at the polls on November 8.

Dave arrived at his interview in khakis and a golf shirt. His “interview suit” – 12 years old and only just recently roomy enough to wear again – stayed in its garment bag on the extra bed in his motel room. Belter had been quite clear, “Make sure you dress casual. This ain’t no elitist outfit. You show up in a tie, people will look at you funny.”

Belter was dressed similarly – he had on jeans – and waved Dave to a chair in the interview room. It was outfitted exactly like interview rooms on cop shows: two utilitarian metal chairs, a heavy, nondescript metal table with scratches in its Rustoleumed surface, and a large mirror set in one wall. There were no obvious places to attach shackles, but Dave had the uncomfortable feeling that if he looked closely, the table legs might bear witness. He chose not to look closely. The mirror was a one-way window, an obvious reminder.

Well, it was a prison. No, NOT a prison…

“So, what made you want to work for our little trans-shipment facility?” Belter began.

“Trans-shipment?” Dave was caught off guard.

“Oh, that’s just our little joke, ha ha,” Belter leaned back and held his arms wide. “This here is the premier relocation camp for the South Central US. ‘Undesirables’ drain here from Texas to Tennessee to Ala-damn-bama.   And we trans-ship ‘em to their final destination. You know all this?”

Dave nodded. He was aware that the body politic needed to excrete poisons the same way a physical body does, and all the undesirables – especially Muslims – had poisoned his country to the point where this was necessary. It had decided his vote, in Ohio, way back in ’16. But now the Reclamation was the only growth industry in America, the only thing working in the economy. And this job was almost the only thing between himself and Reclamation, even though he was only half Mexican and didn’t know a lick of Spanish.

“Well, it’s God’s work, for starters,” Dave opened.

“Amen,” Belter said.

“And I’m a patriot. I truly think Americans should be first in all things.”

“Absolutely!” Belter would be beaming, if he knew how.

“Of course, my father was a Mexican. But he ran off on us when I wasn’t even two yet, and I totally repudiate my blood.”

“Yes, I saw your Blood Repudiation Oath in the app pile. I gotta say, it’s unusual for us to get one of you 14th Amendment types ‘round here. But you sure don’t look it. You could have totally passed. Don’t look it a-tall.” Belter looked him up and down, as if bemused by the lack of a tail and horns.

“Real Americans stand up,” Dave avowed.

“Yes, we do. Well, Dave, it’s no fault of your own, and you’ve overcome a lot to get here. You ARE a little long in the tooth…”

Dave held his breath. There was no way to argue around that, except to note that the draining of Social Security had left him with little in the way of a future, and deregulation had obviated the need for his compliance job at the bank, about 6 months before it obliviated the bank. It was Reclamation, or USA-Mart, and Bentonville, Arkansas was on the way back home.

“But you have outstanding data skills, and those are becoming harder and harder to find,” Belter finally finished, with what would have been a smile if it reached his eyes. He stood and held out his hand.

“Welcome to Camp Perry, Texas.”

Thank You, John

August 22, 2016 By: Juanita Jean Herownself

Please feel free to stay and share.


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