I’m impressed.  Ron DeSantis and his wife walking hand in hand on a beach.  So sweet and such a damn miracle.

Not only has he grown at least three inches so he can be taller than she is while not wearing his two inch heels. Not only can she walk on her dress while wearing it.  Not only do their shadows go in several opposing directions. But, Honey, they can walk on a beach without leaving footprints in the sand.  That is one damn miracle and if you say Jesus is carrying them I will slap you.

I think it’s a damn shame that they live in a state that has no beaches so they had to go to a studio and have their picture taken in front of a poster and then pay a 12 year old to photoshop it.

Look at his stupid feet, y’all.  That’s not how a human walks.

Who does crap like this?

So … people have an excuse to talk crazy in Texas right now because the heat is short circuiting the synapse in our thinking mechanism, which is the scientific term for blubbering insane.  But, folks in South Dakota have no such excuse. They have a high of 79 degrees today.  Screw ‘em. If you’re talking gibberish in South Dakota today it ain’t because of anything external.

For example, please meet South Dakota Republican State Representative Joe Donnell.  You can deep fry the brain of most of our Republicans and even then they wouldn’t talk this crazy.

Mt. Rushmore is a demonic portal to communism?  Dude, Ron DeSantis is going to be so disappointed.  He thought it was in Minnie Mouse’s shoes.  I swear he did.  Well, I can tell you one thing, he’s not going to South Dakota. He’s on a tether of irrationally bolted to Daytona Beach and that’s a fact.

By the way, I do not know where the woman interviewing him gets her Botox, but I’m pretty sure it’s discounted because it’s way pass the “use by” date. A couple more treatments and her lips can be an entry in the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade.  And, yes, I’ll take my milk in a saucer.

Another day, another Republican political consultant goes to prison.  The DOJ issued a press release.

The consultant is Jesse Benton, a 45 year old from The Woodlands, Texas. But, he’s not just any ole consultant.

This ain’t Jesse’s first bull riding contest with the DOJ.  He started as a consultant with Ron Paul. He married Ron Paul’s granddaughter and then left the Paul campaign to work on Mitch McConnell’s campaign, where he took a deep dive into the latrine.

You can scamper over to Wikipedia to read about the long road to payoff deals that helped Republicans and enriched himself.  In 2020, Trump gave him a pardon. But hell, money is money and Benton figured his political connections kept him safe,

Then Donald Trump lost but come to find out, Trump’s signature wasn’t dry on the pardon before Benton hit up some money to pay for the pardon.

According to court documents, Jessie R. Benton, 45, of The Woodlands, schemed with another political advisor to funnel political contributions to a 2016 presidential campaign from a Russian national seeking to meet and take a picture with the presidential candidate. Benton arranged for the Russian national – whose nationality Benton concealed from the campaign and the candidate – to attend a campaign fundraising event and to take a picture with the candidate.

It was $100,000 from a Russian national. Benton gave $25,000 to Trump, and kept $75,000 for himself.

He got 18 months in a Texas prison in Beaumont.  It’s a low security joint and he gets his own cell but it’s kinda like boot camp.  He’ll work at a desk job and there will be air conditioning. He’ll get paid anywhere from 25 cents an hour to $1.00 an hour.  He can use it at the commissary.

I’m wondering how much more illegal cash he’s got buried in his backyard.

Oh y’all, the deep state has all gone dandy deep. Majorie Taylor Greene thinks her teevee is spying on her.

https://twitter.com/mtgreenee/status/1672968710141747202?s=61&t=k-j6B4133Y0-zKSPxlzkFg

I, too, have seen some weird things on my teevee.  Zombies are real and so is Ron DeSantis.

In addition, I have appliances in my house that spy on me, too.  For example, I have a pint of Blue Bell ice cream in my freezer that out of the clear blue will call me by name. It will beg me in the most pitiful voice to come let it live in my warm and wonderful digestive system.  It won’t stop until I put some of it in a bowl.

My dryer hollers at me. If there is company in my house, it just buzzes loudly, but if I’m alone it clearly hollers, “Come get the clothes out of me, you dumb bitch, before they get all wrinkled up.”  My toilet calls me annoyingly, “Come jiggle this handle right now, Susan.”  How the toilet knows my name, I don’t know but I suspect there’s some kind of governmental DNA testing involved.

Like Ms Taylor Greene, I will now share my deepest secrets with you.  I am happy but only if I’m getting my way. I am overweight because of, well, the Blue Bell thing for one.  Like Willie, I no longer smoke but I do enjoy the edibles, my friend.

I am fully vaccinated, even against polio, so I worry about everything, most of them are rare tropical diseases the doctors have never heard of, or falling and not being able to get up but only because the teevee tells me I should. I am 76 years old and my heart rate, blood flow, and brain are all in working order today so who who the hell cares how long they are going to last? I figure that they’ve worked so far and that, my crazy friends, puts me way ahead of the game.

When you go to bed tonight, please take the time to thank God that you’re not whoever it is who has to spy on Majorie Taylor Greene.

Too good not to share right now.

In the search for honesty, we’re pedaling backwards.

Apparently we can’t tell the truth about telling the truth.

To make matters worse, it took ten years and a whole mess of repeating the false study before somebody thought, “you know, that doesn’t sound right” and checked the data.

The 2012 paper reported that asking people who fill out tax or insurance documents to attest to the truth of their responses at the top of the document rather than at the bottom significantly increased the accuracy of the information they provided. The paper has been cited hundreds of times by other scholars, but more recent work had cast serious doubt on its findings.

If you’re slapping your palm to your forehead, you’ve good aim.

Okay, we’ve been dealing with some serious stuff over the last several weeks, so here is something from the lighter side of the news. Feel free to insert air quotes around news at any time. A “news” report is circulating around Facebook from a group that calls themselves the Belmont News Network. Apparently, a 24 year old woman is convinced that she was impregnated by Big Foot. See, it’s a logical conundrum. Her 53 year old husband is apparently sterile, so there is no other logical explanation.

She went on a camping trip with her friends and one thing apparently led to another. Apparently Sasquatch has some game. Was alcohol involved? Come on, what kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course alcohol was involved. Maybe Big Foot brought in some meth as well. A Sasquatch gotta do what a Sasquatch gotta do. Hubby is not having any of it. Apparently, he’s going to give that hairy beast a piece of his mind when he sees him.

It’s at this point that I need to point out two important things. There is nothing remotely on the level about this story. It’s not even a particularly original piece of satire. Ultimately, it’s an important piece for a couple of reasons. First, it is becoming increasingly more difficult to tell fact from fiction. It used to be that you knew straight off that something was completely bogus. The tabloids would ring out their tried and true farce stories on the daily. Someone saw Big Foot the other day. Some actor has put on a ridiculous amount of weight. This aging star will die next week. Sonny Bono was elected to Congress. You know these tales. Occasionally they could combine some for some real entertainment. What if Big Foot discovered a miracle diet plan?

The second part of this is something I commonly refer to as magical thinking. Obviously this story is false, but the details in the story could be tweaked to reveal real beliefs by real people. Instead of believing the simplest and most logical explanation both seem to jump to the ridiculous. Is the belief that Trump is somehow still president, really sacrificed anything by being a soldier a fortune, or that JFK Jr. is still alive any less bizarre? Naturally, the fact that these people seem eerily immune to simple follow up questions is fantastical in a clinical sense.

Alright. I have one question for hubby in this scenario. If we are to assume that Sasquatch exists then wouldn’t it also make sense that there would be more than one Sasquatch? Big Foot is clearly a mammal. Clearly you believe that Big Foot reproduces sexually. So, wouldn’t it be logical that there would be multiple Sasquatch (what is the plural for Sasquatch)? If that is the case, then how could hubby possibly give him a piece of his mind? What if it is the wrong Sasquatch? Could this Sasquatch be given a polygraph? Would you need a warrant for DNA testing? I just have too many questions.