Brownshirt mofos.

Junior really is a perfect fit for Trump's Republican Party Freak Show.

T-squared, L-squared

I'd ask how your Internet Poster Tourette situation is coming along but ...

"Isfahan is half the world."

If Trump was your friend, you'd probably take him aside and explain it to him as gently as possible. As a friend, you owed him the truth; as a friend, he would expect no less.

But that won't happen. Because Trump has no friends.

TWINPAC
Re your work with first time writers, I do sincerely wish you well with that. There's the requirement of honesty on your part, as well as (oftentimes) some diplomacy. Folks can feel pretty naked on that page. If they can separate themselves from the words they put on the page, step back a bit, they are really on their way. I recall a photo in writer Brendan Gill's memoir of life at The New Yorker of a page of a writer's manuscript examined by famed editor Harold Ross. Lots of scribbles in the margins and a scrawled shout: "WHO HE?" Somewhere along the way the writer forgot something: the reader.

#8 | POSTED BY BOAZ

Thank you for your service, Pfc SNAFU.

Not even close.
~ Miss Scarlet
~ Colonel Mustard
~ Mrs. White
~ Mr. Green
~ Mrs. Peacock
~ Professor Plum

#29
You on a roll, girl!

A whole 6 GOPers voted to overturn Trump's tariffs on Canada, when such a vote will not actually accomplish anything of the sort?

Wow, hold the presses on the next edition of Profiles in Courage.

"My wife was with me, as were my four children and nannies. I had another couple; they were there as well, with their children. And we had lunch on the island. That is true. For an hour. And we left with all of my children, with my nannies, with my wife."

Such an odd statement. Almost as if attorneys parsed each word before Howie offered up his torturous explanation.

"My wife was with me, as were my four children and nannies ... .And we left with all of my children, with my nannies, with my wife."

Gee, Howie, sounds like you did a count. Good for you. Whataguy!

Our lives, ZED, if we're collectively smarter and luckier than when so many of our fellow Americans decided to take the pill and swallow the brew, thereby condemning all of us to participating in their swirling dystopian fantasies now writ so large and murderously across the national landscape.

Our fortunes? Transferred to the oligarchs.

Our sacred honor? Fuhgedaboudit. Gone.

Probably not.

Driving a pickup with a big Mexican flag flapping at the back: ICE fishing.

Preparing for Trump's trademarked brand of dumbfookery in Mexico?

Citizens rebuking the insanity of Trump and his enablers and lackeys.
More integrity on that grand jury than in the entire GOP congressional membership.

Who's in charge of Old Yeller's medications?

Reminded me of a line in Cornelius Ryan's D-Day classic Tne Longest Day:

On another ship [heading to the coming landong], members of the Canadian 3rd Division held an amateur night with assorted recitations, jigs and reels and choral offerings. Sergeant James Percival "Paddy" de Lacy of the King's Regiment became so emotional listening to the "Rose of Tralee" played on the bagpipes that he forgot where he was and stood up and offered a toast to Ireland's Eamon de Valera for "keepin' us out of the war."

When Trump comments on athletics consider that from a standing/slumped position he cannot see his toes.