Sunday, November 25, 2018

A Farewell to Arms

Hear any good jokes lately?

Me neither.

Unless you want to count Nikki Haley's farewell lovefest, where she promised to campaign for "this guy" and waxed poetic about Jared Kushner's "hidden genius" (good Lord, I hope we've seen the last of her, but I'm not optimistic).  And possibly Trump's call for decorum was funny, or would be funny if it weren't so freakishly bizarre coming from the calumnious mouth of President Surly.

Actually, it was pretty funny.  So maybe it's me.  

It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find the silver linings of humor amongst the clouds in Trump's brain.  Likewise for the bottom-feeders who encourage him.  His supporters are funny only when you turn off the sound and look at what they're wearing.  And the only thing funny about Jeff Sessions (besides his ears) was Kate McKinnon.

I have Trump Fatigue.  With any luck, it's contagious.

So I'm winding this down.  I don't want to degenerate into just another sour, angry voice.  And I have confidence in our newly elected Democrats in Congress.  This is NOT to say, however, that I won't be back if Sarah Sanders runs off with Kellyanne Conway's husband.  Or if Donald Jr. runs for Senator of Alabama.  

I'll leave you with two things.

First, I have the perfect solution to Russian influence in our elections.  Get off of Facebook.  And Twitter.  And whatnot.  Now.  No excuses.  Easy, right?  And remember, the Internet is for one thing:  shopping.

And secondly, this shocker from a biography of the Trump family which my husband gave me to read for research purposes (and which, thank God, I no longer need):

Eric is the smart one.



Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

It warms the cockles of my heart to hear you label something you heard on "Fox & Friends" as Fake News.  And it's about time.

Could this be the start of something beautiful?  Like Republicans turning on themselves in an orgy of mass self-cannibalism?  One can only hope.

Wishfully thinking,

Underemployed



Monday, November 5, 2018

Out on a Limb

I know I'm going out on a limb here.  I'm not predicting a Blue Wave tomorrow, but a Blue Tsunami.  I think there are a few groups of people who are being underrepresented in the polls:
  1. Women.  Who are just too through.  (Looking at you, prehistoric Republican arthropod on CNN who made fun of our pink hats.  Guess the message was too subtle for you.)
  2. Young adults.  Who are tired of being lied to.  And shot at.  And probably wouldn't mind legal weed.
  3. People with pre-existing medical conditions.  Which is fucking everybody.  (You morons.)
And I'm pretty sure the vast majority of these groups have:
  1. Better things to do than communicate with pollsters, and  
  2. Caller ID.
So forget the polls and here's my prediction:  The House is going Blue...

...AND the Senate.  The Governors, too.

Think of it:  Investigations!  Subpoenas!  Grand Juries!  Indictments!  Russians!  TAX RETURNS!  It's going to be glorious.

YOU can be part of the magic.  And have a really good excuse to party tomorrow night. 

Get out and vote Blue.  


Thursday, November 1, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Saw your press conference today.  And I have to say, whereas I appreciate your concern for the safety and well-being of the American Woman in the shadow of an "invasion" of Central American migrants, to tell the truth I'm more afraid of Brett Kavanaugh.

For real,

Underemployed


Wednesday, October 31, 2018

While You're at It

Dear Mr. Trump,

As long as you're picking apart the Constitution, can we address the "well regulated Militia" part of the Second Amendment?

Punctiliously yours,

Underemployed

Dear Kanye West

Dear Kanye West,

No shit.

Welcome back,

Underemployed


Sunday, October 28, 2018

Dear Mike Pence

Dear Mike Pence,

I agree.  Everyone has a style.

Mine, for example, is "Classic Minimalist".  Trump's is "Scary Birthday Clown".  And yours is "Freeze-Dried Clutch Cargo".

Tell Mother to shop accordingly.

Yours in healthy debate,

Underemployed

Friday, October 26, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

I completely understand why you don't want to talk about all this "Bomb" stuff right now.  (I think I do.  God help me.)

So.

Can we talk about the stock market crashing instead?

Perceptively yours,

Underemployed


Monday, October 22, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

You do know that Fox News is playing you for a chump, right?

Think about it,

Underemployed


Thursday, October 18, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

I have a natural instinct for surgery.  Can I do your next scalp reduction?

Call me,

Underemployed


Monday, October 15, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

You've had an amazing past 24-hours of stupid, but this is the jewel in the crown:


But where have I seen that before?  Oh, yeah:


You should call that artist again.

Woof,

Underemployed


Saturday, October 13, 2018

Dear Scott Wagner

Dear Candidate Wagner,

Where did you learn that word and what do you think it means?

At sea,

Underemployed


Friday, October 12, 2018

The White Suburban Woman Blues

Well, I woke up this morning
Now they're sayin' I'm a mob
Oh yeah, I woke up this morning
And they're sayin' I'm a mob
Well, it hurt me so deep down inside
I cut my hair into a lob.

There's an Orange Man in the White House
And he's givin' me the blues
There's an Orange Man in the White House
And he's givin' me the blues
He's talking' about winnin'
But we're payin' heavy dues.

I'm a White Suburban Woman
Like my wine and yoga mat
Yeah, I'm a White Suburban Woman
Like my wine and yoga mat
And I don't need no man with tiny hands
Grabbin' at my pussy cat.



Monday, October 8, 2018

Count Me Out

Dear Mr. Trump,

Per my previous request, please stop speaking on my behalf.  I, for one, as a free citizen of the "nation" you so blithely referred to in your little skit tonight, choose not to apologize to Brett Kavanaugh.

Mr. Kavanaugh, being - maybe - slightly smarter than you are, might possibly already understand this.  Have a drink, Brett, it will make you feel like a real Justice.

Not your nation,

Underemployed

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

I just saw you on TV, talking about how so many women are REALLY HAPPY about Brett Kavanaugh becoming a Supreme Court justice.

Really?

Well, the women I know - with a very few possible exceptions - think that Brett Kavanaugh, and Chuck Grassley, and Lindsey Graham, and Mitch McConnell, and the rest of the bottom feeder Republicans in Congress*, and Kellyanne Conway, and Sarah Huckabee Sanders, and Rudy Giuliani, and Jared Kushner, and Steve Bannon, and Nikki Haley, and Steve Miller, and General Kelly, and Mike Pompeo, and John Bolton, and Betsy DeVos, and Steve Mnuchin, and Mike Pence, and Sonny Perdue, and Wilbur Ross, and Jeff Sessions, and Ryan Zinke, and Ben Carson, and Rick Perry, and Kirstjen Nielsen, and EVERYBODY at Fox News (hi, Hope!), and Ivanka, and Fredo, and Eric. 

And you.

Are deceitful, amoral, pusillanimous, idiot douchebags.

Did I leave anybody out?  Oh, what the heck.  And Ted Cruz.

Thought you should know,

Underemployed


*Not Lisa Murkowski.

Friday, October 5, 2018

Dear Brett Kavanaugh

Dear Mr. Kavanaugh,

Congratulations.  You will now be known as "Justice Asshole Frat Boy" for the rest of your life.

Hope it was worth it,

Underemployed


Dear Chuck Grassley

Dear Senator Grassley,

Did George Soros also pay more than 2400 law professors and the National Council of Churches?  Or is that consideration beyond the combined brain power of you, your friends at Fox News, and Donald Trump?

Apparently,

Underemployed


Thursday, October 4, 2018

For Your Information

Dear Mr. Trump,

Per your tweet of today about Brett Kavanaugh:  "The country is with him all the way."

No.

As a free American woman, let me state for the record, YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR ME.  Now or ever.  

Is that clear enough?  I mean, even for you?

Probably not,

Underemployed



Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Dear Donald Trump, Jr.

Dear Fredo,

Stepping up to be the poster boy for Castration Anxiety is, in your case, epically poetic.

Literally.

Don't forget your meds,

Underemployed


Sunday, September 30, 2018

This Just In

In an independent poll, 3 out of 4 American women say that Brett Kavanaugh reminds them of their rat bastard ex-husband.

Dear Donald

Dear Donald,

So just like that?  There's someone else?  That little fuck can't even shoot a tiger.

Excuse me, I have to go.  JUSTIN TRUDEAU is on the other line.

So over it,

Vladimir


Saturday, September 29, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

In your dreams.

Stop calling me,

Kim Jong Un


Dear Michael Avenatti

Dear Mr. Avenatti,

What does an Italian girl say when a guy proposes to her?

She says, "Yeah, okay."

You know why.  It's on account of she knows what she's getting into.  That's because Italian families spend all their waking hours in one room together, usually the kitchen.  So the girl has seen what marriage is really like, from her mother and father, her sisters and brothers, her uncles and aunts, her cousins.

And everybody else who's hanging around the house because:
  1. their families are non-Italians, and are therefore incredibly boring, and/or are the types that send their kids to "Bible Camp";
  2. they got no place else to go;
  3. the food's good.
So there's little romance in getting married and few surprises.  You want happy tears of excitement from an Italian girl?  Ask her if she wants to go to Vegas for the weekend.

This explains why there's so much drama amongst the medigans.  They hide stuff.  Or they think they're hiding stuff, which makes them act like stiffs, but it all comes out in the end and then they are SO shocked and outraged that you know what they've been up to.  Like, how dare you.  And that's why they have midlife crises.  And nervous breakdowns.  Their past catches up with them.  What a surprise.

(Sound familiar?  Brett Kavanaugh maybe?  I swear to God, in the Italian dictionary, next to faccia di cazzo is that guy's picture.)

Not the Italians, though.  Past, present, future, it's all in the kitchen.  The really bad things are talked about in Italian, a great motivation for the kids to learn the language.  But the kids also learn that they would have to move to Siberia if they want to hide something.  They don't even try.  My grandmother could tell if you were knocked up just by the look on your face.  Better to fight it out in the kitchen, even if you get hit with a shoe. 

So in my house there was no hiding anything.  Unless you count the stash of guns in the attic, hidden in the secret closet behind the big dresser.  I can tell people about that now, since the house is long gone and the individuals involved have passed away.  Anyway, I'm not worried about being investigated by the FBI.

Nobody's asked me to be on the Supreme Court.

Buona fortuna,

Connie Staccato
Actually Sicilian, but married to a Napolitan


Friday, September 28, 2018

Dear Lindsey Graham

Dear Senator Graham,

Today you said, "If I'm nothing, I'm practical."

We know.  You've made both points abundantly clear.

Disaffectedly yours,

Underemployed


Invasion of the Trump Snatchers

I expected to wake up in a really bad mood today but I was pleasantly surprised.

True, silly optimist that I am, I spent more than eight hours yesterday watching the Kavanaugh "hearing" (their word, not mine), desperately hoping to detect some shred of human decency amidst that appalling display of mass hysterical castration anxiety.  And there were shreds.  But simply not enough.  Lady Justices of the Supreme Court:  Don't give him beer.

I have two takeaways.

First, I watched two people turn into Donald Trump before my very eyes.  

Yes, I'm talking about YOU, Brett Kavanaugh and Lindsey Graham.  As I watched the tantrums, your hands began to shrink.  You grew tires around your middle.  Your skin and hair turned orange, and creepy white pouches bulged beneath your red-rimmed eyes.  Your hair turned into Medusa-inspired rat's nests.  And the lies and deceptions and deflections spewed in torrents from your mouths.  

You became host bodies for the Great Orange Blight.  (Nice audition for Jeff Sessions' job, Lindsey.)

Was I scared?  Last night I was.  And depressed.

But this morning, I had a breakthrough realization.  I remember reading in a book by Ray Bradbury something about the monsters who come and eat your soul when you wake up in the middle of the night.

We all have them.  I do.  You do, too.

The big realization, though, was that Mine are SO much smaller than Theirs.  And those monsters WILL haunt them.  At 2:00 in the morning.  For the rest of their lives.

While I will simply shoo mine away.  And go back to sleep.




Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

It took three glasses of wine, but I managed to listen to your entire disjointed, rambling, babble-packed press conference (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon.  Without entering a convent.  But just barely.

Dude, what was that?
  1. A skillful and nefarious manipulation of language, power, and the media designed to deflect attention from your administration's disastrous occupation of the White House?
  2. An appalling and calculated outpouring of lies, half-truths, veiled threats, and blame composing a series of desperate defenses against the indefensible?
  3. An hour-and-a-half-long infomercial on dementia?
You got one thing right, though.

Women are SO angry.

Me too,

Underemployed

Honestly

In lieu of anything - and I mean ANYTHING - funny happening this week, I would simply like to point out that if Nikki Haley wore her AirPods upside down, she could easily be mistaken for Rudy Giuliani.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Do Us All a Favor

Will somebody please feed Donald Trump, Jr. his lunch and put him back in his playpen?

Thank you.


Sunday, September 16, 2018

Econ 101

Let's talk about money.

I'll start with a question:  Why would anybody pay $52,000 for curtains?

Curtains?  Curtains???  Curtains are a piece of cloth in front of a window, right?  At least, that's what they are on MY planet.  So, unless you're curtaining the entire Taj Mahal, that would have to be some major fucking curtains.

The curtains in reference here are the ones in Nikki Haley's official Ambassador-to-the-United-Nations residence in New York.  To be fair, Ambassador Haley had no choice in either the residence or the curtains, both of which were the brainchildren of the previous administration.  Until recently, American ambassadors to the U.N. lived at the Waldorf Astoria.  (Oh, pardon moi, no tea today, Elizabeth.  I'm off to play the grand piano.)

Apparently, the curtains cost $52,000 because they are mechanized.  (Mechanized?)  

The rationale?

"All she's got is a part-time maid, and the ability to open and close the curtains quickly is important," sez Patrick Kennedy, top management official at the State Department during the Obama administration and acclaimed genius.  

Really?

No wonder Scott Pruitt and Ben Carson thought they were entitled to their feeding frenzy.  But, and this is pure conjecture on my part, I'm pretty sure that the vast majority of able-bodied people, rich or poor, can manage to muster the time and effort to open their own curtains.  Without a decline in quality-of-life.

(Or why not just spring for a full-time maid?  That way, the curtains get opened and closed without undue burden to the occupant, and somebody gets a steady and decent paying job.  Just a thought.)

I don't care who bought the curtains.  That's not the point. 

The point is I'm tired of listening to the words "million" and "billion" and "trillion" tossed around by politicians, oligarchs, and other forms of human leeches while the homeless have become a permanent fixture on our streets.  Something politicians, oligarchs, and human leeches might be left unaware of in the course of their $52,000 mechanized lives.

It's a global problem, to be sure.  Not an easy one to solve.  One person's luxury is another person's necessity, and where's the cut-off point?  (Python jackets.)  Does one forever eschew lipstick and venti lattes in order to better be one's brother's keeper?  (For a more in-depth, and thoroughly entertaining, discussion on the subject, read my book, Pass the Vodka, an Underemployed Reader's Companion, chapter 15, "Logical Extremes".)

So who am I to judge?  All I know is that the Washington Post has put the tab for the 2016 elections at 6.5 billion dollars.

And we sure didn't get much bang for the buck.



Friday, September 14, 2018

Dear Lindsey Graham

Dear Senator Graham,

I've got some bad news for you, sweetheart, and her name isn't Florence.

Let's face facts.  Even though you are currently camped out in the West Wing, and even though you have amply (and ignobly) demonstrated your recent penchant (perhaps significantly recent) for spouting glowing rationalizations in defense of the political mustard gas emanating from the White House, the sad truth is:  

Trump's just not that into you.

(And here I had a flash of Lindsey Graham and Rand Paul, locked in a life-or-death struggle, teeth filed to points, vying for notice from the Oval Office.  It wasn't pretty.)

Though you may be the Flavor-of-the-Month, let me explain why Trump doesn't really like you:
  1. You didn't go to an Ivy League school.  Something Mr. Illiterate values very much.  In lieu of a python jacket.
  2. You have a southern accent, which firmly places you alongside Jeff Sessions in what passes for Trump's mind.
  3. Trump will forever, and I mean forever, associate you with John McCain, try as you might to distance yourself from that good man.  (You will probably get some help here from Megan McCain.)
  4. You are short.
  5. You are a toad.  And Trump knows you are a toad. 
All that golf, all the proffered friendship, all the moonbeams you've shot up Trump's ass in the course of your tenure as Head Boy, all of this is for naught.  You will go the way of Paul Ryan, your predecessor in the Department of Mooncow, meaning you will be kicked to the curb as soon as your dweebiness starts to wear thin.

Remember what Jared did to Chris Christie?  That's what Bannon is going to do to you.

And you will never recover.  In spite of the fact that the people of South Carolina don't listen when the New York Times - or, presumably, any other source of reliable news - speaks.  Sez you.  Personally, I don't think you can be on the White House pep squad and remain in their good graces.

You have but one chance.  If you can get General Mattis to run screaming into the streets (there are indications we're almost there), you might be able to score a cabinet post.  If you can also get Jeff Sessions dislodged, there will be one for you and one for Rand.  And everybody lives happily ever after.

Except for the rest of the planet.

Disillusionedly yours,

Underemployed
(You wrote that op-ed, didn't you?)



Thursday, September 13, 2018

Three Reasons Why

Three reasons why John Hickenlooper should be President of the United States:
  1. He's not Trump.
  2. He's the governor of Colorado, where marijuana is legal.
  3. His name is John Hickenlooper.
What more could you want?

And maybe Tammy Duckworth as his vice president?  Think of the merchandise.  Think of the t-shirts.  Think of Americans smiling again.  There is immense potential here.  Would I spend good money to drink my coffee out of a "Hickenlooper/Duckworth 2020" coffee mug?  

Hell, yes.


Sunday, September 9, 2018

The Winning Ticket 2020

Kamala Harris/Beto O'Rourke.

You heard it here first.  And I was RIGHT about Biden/Duckworth being the winning ticket for 2016.  Y'all didn't listen, and look what happened.  So pay attention.


Thursday, September 6, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Kim Jong Un has "unwavering faith" in you.

Oh.

I guess we're okay then.

Whew,

Underemployed


Dear Lindsey Graham

Dear Senator Graham,

One of the curious side effects of your lobotomy is you seem to think everyone else in South Carolina has had one, too.

Good luck with that,

Underemployed


Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Dude, calm down.  It might have been Ivanka.

Just saying,

Underemployed


Dear Lindsey Graham

Dear Senator Graham,

You sound nervous, honey.  And very, very out of touch.

See you in Woodward's book,

Underemployed


P.P.S.

Maybe it was Pence.  See previous post:


God works in mysterious ways...


P.S.

My money's on Kirstjen Nielsen.  C'mon, girl, make some history!


Dear "Part of the Resistance"

Dear Mr./Ms. Part of the Resistance,

To begin, let me thank you for your service.  If it weren't for your prowess and expertise, bravery and dedication, genius and sterling morality...

...we might have gotten rid of this asshole by now.

Since you don't have the courage (like so many of your colleagues) to identify yourself, and sound the alarm loud and clear, please keep in mind that the fate of the world is depending on you.

I hope your abilities are as great as your sense of self-importance.

Underwhelmed,

Underemployed


What a Surprise

Dear Mr. Trump,

Bob Woodward's book has barely reared its long-awaited head, and I think we already have a consensus:  He's not telling us anything we don't already know.  "We" being everybody on Earth who isn't flat-lining. 

The book is, apparently, a confirmation.  Not a revelation.  Certainly not a fabrication.  Calling the book a fabrication only exacerbates your own Godzilla-like credibility issues, if that's even possible.  For starters, the man has tapes.  Lots of them.  He also has receipts (look it up, on Google), like 2 Pulitzer Prizes, 5 years in the Navy, 12 best sellers.  

And one presidential notch already on his belt.  

Furthermore, I appeal to whatever sense of self-preservation you may possess to think twice about calling for tougher libel laws.  First of all, it's too late; and secondly, you'll only be opening yourself up to a hundred million lawsuits (Ted Cruz might have one.  Certainly Mrs. Cruz does.)  If you think Woodward's book is libel, my advice is to stop paying so much attention to professional barnacles like Tucker Carlson and Sean Hannity, and start paying more attention to your Google search results.  

Grim as all this might seem, however, it's not your biggest worry.  Don't look now, but your Vice President thinks that God is "calling him" to be "president-in-waiting".

Personally I think God has the wrong number, but what does that even mean?  It means that your biggest worry is, perhaps, how your Vice President thinks God is going to help him out on this.

Consider:  Either Pence thinks he's going to step into your office when God gives you a heart attack, or Mueller gives you an indictment.  Or he thinks he's going to take it in 2020.  (Because you're not there for some reason.  Heart attack?  Indictment?)  Or he thinks he's going to run in 2024.  And win.  Unlikely in my opinion, despite the power of God, unless he seriously lightens up on the Juvederm.

So that leaves the first two options.  There might be other possibilities here, of which I'm not nefarious enough to conceive.  

But I'm sure Mike and God are working on it.

Watch your back,

Underemployed


Dear Marco Rubio

Dear Senator Rubio,

You blew it.  You should have punched his lights out.  It would have clinched 2020 for you.

For real,

Underemployed


Thursday, August 30, 2018

Dear Beto O'Rourke

Dear Beto O'Rourke,

Your wife ever leaves you, you know where to find me.

Rock on,

Underemployed


Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Dear Lindsey Graham

Dear Lindsey Graham,

Keep playing your cards right, and you could be the next Rudy Giuliani.

Congratulations,

Underemployed

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Food for Thought

Dear Mr. Trump,

Is it possible - just maybe, mind you - that the reason you get negative results when you google yourself is that you are a really REALLY bad person/"president" and that NOBODY, in spite of what you may have been led to believe by certain self-interested parties, actually likes you?

Give it some thought.

(And, yes, you really are that orange.  Now google "weird hair".)

Searchingly yours,

Underemployed
  

Saturday, August 25, 2018

Rest in Peace

Blessings on you, John McCain.  America owes you her admiration, her respect, and her gratitude.  You gave us an ideal of a hero.

May those who love you find peace in their memories.  And may we continue to honor your legacy of bravery.

Friday, August 24, 2018

The Future

In the future, when the tales of our era have been written, and have found their way into the chronicles of history, our children will read about how Mr. Trump was taken down by Mr. Pecker.  

And they will laugh.

I hope.

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Not So Fast

Bad Idea:  Impeach Donald Trump.

Hear me out.  Two words:  President.  Pence.

Could be even scarier.  The Great American Theocracy.  In other words, everything will still be awful, but he'll be doing it because that's what Jesus wants him to do.  At least that's what the voices are telling him.

I think I'd rather have someone who bribes porn stars.  


Sunday, August 19, 2018

Dear Michael Avenatti

Dear Mr. Avenatti,

St. Anthony heard my prayers and now you're running for President!  

I don't even care if you win or lose.  I just want to watch you on TV.  And don't go getting all reasonable and middle-of-the-road on me.  We have enough of those jadrools already.  Just give me some full-on, St. Louis Italian, and let the games begin.

I've been thinking about offering you my daughter Nicola's hand in marriage, you being without a wife at the moment.  But I'm going to wait and see how this plays out.  I really can't picture her as First Lady, unless you're okay with her sleeping in all morning and wearing flats.  But she's beautiful (like a Botticelli!), and makes sauce.  So things don't work out, keep it in mind.

In bocca al lupo.

Your fan,

Connie Staccato


Truth Isn't Truth

Per Rudy Giuliani.

I won't even elaborate on that.  Yes, Rudy, truth IS truth.  Go ask God.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Wow!  Your very first Stalinist purge!  Can gulags be far behind?

I'm in SUCH a tizzy about your security clearance hit list that I can't bring myself to pay ANY ATTENTION WHATSOEVER to:
  1. Omarosa.
  2. Paul Manafort.
  3. Roger Stone.
  4. your new bromance with Rand Paul.
  5. Ivanka's "low point".
  6. Michael Cohen.
  7. Wilbur Ross.
  8. the resuscitation of Steve Bannon.
  9. Melania's fashion choices.
  10. a sneaking feeling I have that Donald Jr. once dated Mariia Butina.
Just kidding, I'm paying attention to everything.  

Wish I were in Congress,

Underemployed



Sunday, August 12, 2018

Dear Sarah Huckabee Sanders

Dear White House Communications Lady Sanders,

I don't write about the White House ladies very often.  With the notable exception of Hope Hicks, you all seem so abjectly miserable.  At least when you're in front of a camera.  I can only assume, given the evidence of my eyes and ears, that you're:
  1. pathologically in need of attention.  Any kind of attention.
  2. dumb as a box of rocks.
  3. completely amoral.
  4. and/or
  5. scared shitless.
Whatever the reality is, the books are being written (can't wait for Bob Woodward's!) and we will all be enlightened some day.  And your problems will follow you long after Donald Trump is but an unpleasant memory.  So I try to confine myself to wishing that you'd just go home.

That being said, I had to drop you a line today.

Because I want to point out that there is something wonderfully, almost magically, pharisaical about you criticizing someone for their lack of character.

Team Omarosa,

Underemployed


Clowns and Losers

Dear Mr. Trump,

You're referring to members of the FBI as "clowns and losers"?  With that cabinet??

Ludicrously yours,

Underemployed

P.S.  Pardon me for asking, but did you buy your new teeth from Giuliani's dentist?


Thursday, August 9, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Stop picking on grandmothers.  It's lame.

Sorry about your dick,

Nancy Pelosi


Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

My Creep-o-Meter is going off.

For some time now, I've been wondering why a senator from Kentucky would:
  1. be mugged by his own neighbor.
  2. suddenly become such a fervid devotee of the Orange Party.
  3. feel the need to visit Russia.
  4. perm his hair.
And I'm not coming up with anything that makes sense here.

Now I find out that Senator Paul had the "honor" of delivering a letter from you to Vladimir Putin.  (Note to Senator Paul:  Talk like an American.)  Which immediately conjured up visions of 5th grade and getting a friend to pass a note to your boy crush.  

And the juxtaposition is definitely creepy.

Since I can't imagine you as the author of any sort of a coherent letter, I am going to speculate that this "letter" was perhaps simply a list of names of people you would like to see win the mid-term elections.  For now, I'm going with that as a working hypothesis, until I get a plausible explanation.

Bafflingly yours,

Underemployed


Monday, August 6, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Let's see if I have this right.  Rich Republican guys are giving you gazillions of dollars to pay your legal bills.  And the best you can do is Jay Sekulow and Rudy Fucking Giuliani???

Giuliani clearly has cognitive challenges.  Seculow can't even buy a decent toupee, and thinks that facts can "evolve".  By which, I surmise, he means that he gets to change his story whenever the truth comes out.

Let's be real:
  1. Sekulow was lying.
  2. Sekulow is probably lying now, too.
  3. And - this is genius! - I'm willing to bet that he lies to you on a regular basis.
Apparently, staffing wasn't your strong point during your legendary career as a businessman.

You're fired,

Underemployed


Ohio Special Election

Dear Mr. Trump,

If I were you, I'd watch that "Danny Boy" stuff.  Unless, of course, you want to add several generations of Irish immigrants and their children to the list of immigrants you've already insulted.

Just a suggestion,

Underemployed


Sunday, August 5, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

So the infamous Trump Tower Meeting was "totally legal" and "done all the time in politics".

Whew!  Thanks for clearing the whole thing up.  I knew that a "good boy" (your words) like Donald Jr. wouldn't do anything (advertently) wrong.  In spite of the severed elephant's tail, and the fact that he thinks silencers are a good way to introduce children to guns.  Oh, and the cheating on his wife thing.  But, you know, the son of a frog is himself a frog, and all that.  

Yeah.  

Well.  

Let's move on.

At any rate, now we know that meeting up with foreigners to get dirt on one's political opponent is completely legit.  And that makes me happy.

It makes me happy because - if I'm reading this right and Lord knows I'm trying - this means that the infamous Steele Dossier is also completely legit.  And that Robert Mueller and his sundry investigations are safe and sound and alive and well.

And you're going to stop whining about it, right?  

By the way, please tell Ivanka that Nirvana plus blue hair does not equal punk.  I think she might have missed something there.

Gleefully,

Underemployed


Wednesday, August 1, 2018

Dear White House Officials

Dear White House Officials,

I finally figured out why you have weekly Bible study classes:  you're looking for loopholes.

Thy neighbor,

Underemployed


Saturday, July 28, 2018

Good to Know

Dear Mr. Trump,

You recently said, 

"What you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening."


You mean there isn't a large, flabby, orange, greedy, stupid, uneducated, possibly senile, certainly sociopathic, compulsive liar with the temperament and moral reasoning of a clinically paranoid two-year-old, cherishing delusions of grandeur, white supremacy, and world domination, currently occupying the Oval Office, surrounded by a pack of equally repulsive offspring, lawyers, "advisors", and invertebrate politicians?

Oh.

Good to know.

Figmentally yours,

Underemployed



Dear Darrell Issa

Dear Representative Issa,

You know what I've noticed about liars?  They think everybody else is lying, too.

Spuriously yours,

Underemployed


Monday, July 23, 2018

Contempt of Congress

As entertaining as I find a celebrity smack-down between Whoopi Goldberg and Judge Jeanine Pirro, it's the guys who have my attention today.  Specifically, the ones in Congress.  Here are some random thoughts and observations:
  1. Trey Gowdy.  I noticed the new haircut.  A little punk, a little Jamie Lee Curtis.  Don't get me wrong, I approve.  It makes you look a lot less like a Death Eater.  I also noticed the 2nd-day beard, and I think you're getting ready to go full-on Al Gore.  
  2. Lindsey Graham.  Obviously, hanging out with John McCain didn't leave much of an impression on you.  
  3. The Manchurian Randicate, Rand Paul.  You announced today that you're "honestly undecided" about whether you're going to support Brett "White Bread and Mayonnaise" Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court.  (A perfect opportunity for a dweeb to grab a few headlines that don't involve assault charges.)  Well, I have "honestly decided" that you'll do anything Trump says.  Which makes me wonder what he's got on you.
  4. That Loser from Georgia.  My daughter thinks Sacha Baron Cohen is going to save the world.  And I'm beginning to think she's right.
  5. Marco Rubio.  Looking good, Marco.  Keep it up and you will be just the guy to knock Trump out of the box in 2020, if he makes it that far.  However, at some point you might want to consider putting a little daylight between you and Ivanka.  Just a thought. 
Also on my radar:  Devin Nunes, Dana Rohrabacher, Jim Jordan, and Jason Lewis.  I'm looking forward to hearing more from you boys.  

Hopefully, real soon.


Saturday, July 21, 2018

My Favorite President

Well, I think he was a very good president, but I wouldn't say Barack Obama did nothing wrong!


Thursday, July 19, 2018

Dear Representative Jason Lewis

Dear Representative Lewis,

That word is reserved for me.  And my fellow sluts.

You slut.

Sincerely,

Underemployed


Trump Derangement Syndrome

Dear Senator Paul,

I agree that Trump Derangement Syndrome exists.  However, I disagree on the symptoms.

A person with Trump Derangement Syndrome acts like a scared rabbit with a gun being held to its head.  Like you.  And Kirstjen Nielsen.  Among so many others.

What you describe is called, "Trump Anxiety".

 And the only cure for that is a presidentectomy.

Diagnostically yours,

Underemployed

 

Dear Kirstjen Nielsen

Dear Secretary Nielsen,

I have looked into my crystal ball and have seen your future:
  1. The public displays of the shocking depth of your idiocy,
  2. Will basically render you unemployable for life.
  3. And you will be reduced to appearing on talk shows, where people will make fun of you.
  4. Sort of like Sarah Palin,
  5. But not as funny.
And "Kirstjen Nielsen" will be defined by Urban Dictionary as "That one girl in high school nobody liked."

Nice going,

Underemployed


Dear George Will

Dear Mr. Will,

Word salads and the Oval playpen:


Thank you again,

Underemployed


Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Please stop calling the news media "the Enemy of the People".  It makes you sound so...what's the word I'm looking for here...?

Despotic.

Irrepressibly yours,

Underemployed


Dear Mariia Butina

Dear Mariia,

That new jumpsuit is just FABULOUS with your hair!

Your fellow fashion girl,

Underemployed


The Long Walk Back

Dear Mr. Trump,

In reference to your press conference with Vladimir Putin:

Aside from the outrage and skepticism of everybody with a functioning cerebral cortex, I think you might have emerged the winner in the "would/wouldn't" controversy of late.  I mean, when the laughter subsided, we all just moved on to the next catastrophe, right?

Which brings me to my point.

"An incredible idea!" you said.  (Twice, by my count.)  And it's on video which makes it harder to blame the "fake news" (though that didn't deter you when it came to your Theresa May comments).

You were referring to Putin's generous offer to allow Special Counsel Mueller access to interviews with the indicted Russian hackers.  In exchange for allowing Russia to question certain American citizens "of interest" to them.

I don't think that's gonna fly.

I'm guessing even YOU won't be able to sell this idea.  So you'll have to walk it back:  What did you really mean?  What did you really say?  What did you really mean to say?

And I have some suggestions.

Instead of "incredible", you meant to say:
  1. "indelible"
  2. "inedible"
  3. "ineffable"
  4. "insensible"
  5. "illegible"
  6. "illiberal"
  7. "intangible"
  8. "impeccable"
  9. "umbilical"
  10. "hilarious"
None of this makes sense, of course, which you would realize if you could read.  (How about "impeachable"?  That would make sense.)

But people are used to that.  I can imagine the august members of your "base" nodding sagely and saying, "See?  He just misspoke."

Incredible. 

Unfathomably yours,

Underemployed




Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Grammar Police

Dear Mr. Trump,

I'm pretty sure you wouldn't know a double negative if it bit you on the ass.

Grammatically yours,

Underemployed


Monday, July 16, 2018

Helsinki

Dear Mr. Trump,

Personally, I think you looked - and sounded - straight-up, flat-out terrified.

Of what?  One might wonder.

Curiously yours,

Underemployed



Sunday, July 15, 2018

Dear Michael Avenatti

Dear Michael Avenatti,

"...every time I watch him work, I think, 'This is what it must have been like to see the Sistine Chapel being painted.'" 

- Stormy Daniels

I couldn't have said it better myself.

And I love how she brings the Holy Father into play here.  Seriously, you guys are keeping me off the Galliano.

In bocca al lupo,

Connie Staccato
President
Italian-Americans Against that Boombots in the White House


Friday, July 13, 2018

Dear Paul Ryan

Dear Congressman Ryan,

No, your car was not "eaten by animals."

Your car was eaten by me, my friend Jan, and thousands of angry, rabid Wisconsin voters.  With our bare teeth.  And we're still hungry.

My advice:  Don't buy a Lamborghini.

You've been warned,

Underemployed


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

The Big Reveal

Three things more interesting than Donald Trump's Big Reveal on Monday night:
  1. The Thai children trapped in the cave.
  2. The immigrant children trapped in the United States.
  3. George Clooney's pelvis.
I admit that I wondered - briefly - if Trump would use his "Mussolini" face or his "I'm a big boy now!" face for the occasion.  Mercifully, the curiosity was not overwhelming enough to inspire me to turn on the television.

So I guess I'll never know.


Saturday, July 7, 2018

It's Perfectly Simple

  1. Google Donald Trump.
  2. Google Robert Mueller.
  3. Read their biographies.
Enough said.


Dear State Senator Steve Fitzgerald

Dear State Senator Fitzgerald,

"Outside of Western civilization, there is only barbarism."

You can say this?  With that beard???

Woof,

Underemployed


Nursery Rhyme

Pussy Grab, Pussy Grab, where have you been?
I've been to London to visit the queen.
Pussy Grab, Pussy Grab, what did you there?
I saw a big Trump Baby up in the air!

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Dear Sadiq Khan

Dear Mayor Khan,

Thank you.  We'll be watching.

Your cousin across the pond,

The United States


The Next President

Judging from the depth of my revulsion whilst reading excerpts from Scott Pruitt's resignation letter today, I predict that the next president of the United States will be the first Republican who says to Donald Trump,  "Fuck you. You're an asshole."  Children of Trump excepted.  I hope.

I can't be the only person thinking this. 


Friday, June 29, 2018

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Dear Trey Gowdy

Dear Trey Gowdy,

I had the impression you were taller.

Compensatingly yours,

Underemployed


Monday, June 25, 2018

On the Other Hand

Dear Sarah Huckabee Sanders,

I saw your press conference today.  And I fully understand how and why you got asked to leave a restaurant.

Lying isn't nice either, Sarah.

Honestly,

Underemployed


Manners Are the Happy Way

You shouldn't throw people out of your:
  1. Bakery,
  2. Flower shop,
  3. Chicken restaurant,
  4. Trump rally,
  5. Opium den,
because they are:
  1. Gay,
  2. Not gay,
  3. Annoying the shit out of you,
  4. Republican,
  5. And/or wearing khaki shorts.
You just shouldn't.  It's not nice. 

And Lord knows, we need some adults in this room.



Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Tactical Pants

Dear Scott Pruitt,

Could you please explain to me what a pair of "Tactical Pants" is?  I mean, other than a really good name for a band?

Dazed and confused,

Underemployed


Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Thorbjorn Jagland just said that you are no longer the moral leader of our country or the world.

Thorbjorn Jagland is one of the five members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, which awards the Nobel Peace Prize.

I'm guessing you can kiss that puppy goodbye.

Nice going,

Underemployed


Dear Kirstjen Nielsen

Dear Kirstjen Nielsen,

What did you think would happen if you went to a Mexican restaurant last night?

Just curious,

Underemployed


The Best Is Yet to Come

"You know, Lars, we are two very good people."

"That is true, Olav."

"In fact, I would say that we are two of the Best People in the whole country."

"I would not disagree."

"Look at us!  We are handsome, smart, and well-educated.  We have good jobs, nice apartments, and new cars.  Our girlfriends are scientists and super-models.  And they can cook!  Great soups, which we do not slurp."

"You are right, Lars.  But what is your point?"

"Well...Olav, I think we should emigrate to the United States."

"But why?  We have great lives here!"

"That is correct.  But their president..."

"The Russian?"

"He is not Russian.  Only dresses like one.  Their president says he wants the Best People to emigrate to the United States.  And we are the Best People."

"But why?  Don't they have their own Best People?"

"No.  Have you ever watched Fox News?"

"Lars, why should people like us, who are the best and are enjoying their lives, want to live somewhere else?"

"Because the United States is the Greatest Country on Earth."

"Oh.  Yes.  Sometimes I forget."

"And the president obviously needs some Best People. The Best People could show him how to comb his hair.  And go suit shopping with him.  Olav, did you know that he is orange?  The Best People do not let things like that happen."

"People shoot each other in the United States, Lars.  A lot."

"They will not shoot at us.  We are tall.  Olav, this is a great opportunity, though the reason escapes me at the moment."

"Then what are we waiting for?  We could take our whole families!"

"Yes!  They are all Best People.  Except for your ugly cousin Dagmar.  Not even blonde.  If we bring her, our country will lose foreign aid from the United States."

"Lars, our country doesn't get foreign aid from the United States."

"Perhaps, if we send them some Best People, they will start giving it to us.  But now that I think of it, our girlfriends might leave us for NBA stars."

"True."

"And if we don't come over on the Queen Mary, they might separate us from our parents."

"Really?"

"And then there is Kentucky, Arkansas, Alabama, Jeff Sessions..."

"Stop!"

"Olav, let's stay home."


Monday, June 18, 2018

To Infinity and Beyond

Dear Mr. Trump,

Dude.  If you can't handle Central American children, you DEFINITELY should not be dominating the universe.

Just saying,

Underemployed


Zero Tolerance

Let's have a zero tolerance policy for liars, racists, assholes, and sniveling cowards.

Then we wouldn't have to impeach him.

Dear Manuel Padilla

Dear Mr. Padilla,

Today, you pointed out that, "We created this situation by not doing anything."

Fair enough.  But the point is that the children didn't create this situation.  And they're the ones being punished for it.

And we're still not doing anything.

Nice try,

Underemployed


Sound Familiar?

"His primary rules were: never allow the public to cool off; never admit a fault or wrong; never concede that there may be some good in your enemy; never leave room for alternatives; never accept blame; concentrate on one enemy at a time and blame him for everything that goes wrong; people will believe a big lie sooner than a little one; and if you repeat it frequently enough people will sooner or later believe it."

- U.S. Office of Strategic Services Psychological Profile of Adolf Hitler

Multiple Choice

A compilation of Kirstjen Nielsen's greatest hits:
  1. "I actually do not know that, sir."  (i.e., that Norway was predominately white. 1/16/18)
  2. "Operationally what that means is we will have to separate your family."  (5/10/18)
  3. "I do not believe that conclusion that the specific intent was to help President Trump win.  I'm not aware of that."  (5/22/18)
  4. "We do not have a policy of separating families.  Period."  (6/17/18)
Based on the above information, Kirstjen Nielsen is:
  1. Insane.
  2. Really, really dumb.
  3. Inexplicably terrified by some horror yet to be named.
  4. A bad liar.
  5. All of the above.
Whatever she is, she's also - incredibly - the Secretary of Homeland Security.

Feeling secure?


Sunday, June 17, 2018

Dear Children

Dear Children,

I'm sorry that we took you away from your mothers and fathers.  And I'm sorry that another day will come and go and nobody will do anything about it.

But here's the good news:  Everybody (except for, maybe, Jeff Sessions and Steve Miller) HATES what's happening to you!  Mr. Trump hates it, and Paul Ryan hates it, and even Kellyanne Conway (who should never wear green, ever) managed to come up with a shred of maternal-like feeling. 

Mrs. Trump hates it so much that she sent her very own spokesperson to tell everyone how much she hates it.  (Ivanka doesn't seem to care one way or the other, but she's busy with her plans to sell tampons in China, so don't take it personally).  And lots of Senators and Members of the House of Representatives are all really concerned.

However, the need to separate you from your parents seems to be a law of physics.  Nobody, not even The Most Powerful Man in the World Who Has Accomplished More than Anyone in History (to hear him tell it, which we do, every single day, ad nauseam) is apparently able to put an end to this sorry state of affairs.

Now, if it were me, I would probably pick up the phone, ask to speak to the person in charge of things at the border, and say, "Stop it." 

And I doubt I would get an argument.

There's hope.  We will just have to put up with all this grandstanding until Mr. Trump gets his $25,000,000,000 in extortion money, or the 2018 election rolls around in November.  Whichever comes first.

Until then, little ones, be brave.  You've already shown that you're braver than anyone in Congress.

Regretfully yours,

Underemployed


Friday, June 15, 2018

Dear Jeff Sessions

Dear Jeff Sessions,

Jesus thinks you're a jerk.

Posthumously yours,

Frank Zappa


Your Attention, Please

Dear Mr. Trump,

Today, during some cringe-worthy, glowing observations about your new boy-crush, Kim Jong Un, you wistfully remarked:

"He speaks and his people sit up at attention.  I want my people to do the same."

Well.

Aside from the obvious, which is that Kim's people only sit up to avoid being sent to a detention camp, I take umbrage with this.

First of all, the only person I can imagining myself sitting up and paying attention to is Robert Mueller.  Secondly, I certainly do not consider myself one of your people.  

But I worry about where all this is going.  I can only surmise that your vision of a Great-Again America includes that we should also:
  1. Eat our vegetables.
  2. Take out the garbage.
  3. Clean our rooms.
  4. Do our homework.
  5. Go to bed on time.
And my guess is that it wouldn't end there.  You'll probably want us to stop hitting our brothers, too. Perhaps you have an obedience fetish, along with some other issues Ronny Jackson failed to notice.

Don't hold your breath,

Underemployed



Wednesday, June 13, 2018

The Fourth Deadly Sin

Justin Trudeau is the new Barack Obama.

Shocking

Dear Mr. Trump,

I admit to being somewhat taken aback when I saw that you used the word "promulgated" in a sentence today.

I would have been really shocked if the sentence had made sense.

Lexiconically yours,

Underemployed


Don't Be Silly

Dear Congressman Matt Gaetz,

I'm sorry, but I find it hard to imagine ANYONE shaking in fear on account of Rod Rosenstein.  But perhaps I'm made of sterner stuff.

I sure hope you weren't driving when you came up with that one.

Dubiously yours,

Underemployed


Sunday, June 10, 2018

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Betrayed!  By a (younger than you) back-stabbing (better looking than you) Canadian (and way smarter).  Brownie points to Peter Navarro (a blithering idiot) for pointing out (lickspittle) that there is a special place in hell (next to the one we're in right now) for those who double-cross (infamia!) you (and, by extension, God, I guess).

Hang in there (Putin's got your back).  And trust your instincts (because you sure can't trust your brain).

Inconceivably yours,

Underemployed

Dear Canada

Dear Canada,

I'm sorry.

Sincerely,

The United States



Thursday, June 7, 2018

Truer Words

"If you're involved in a sort of slimy business, that says something about you..."

- Rudy Giuliani, Donald Trump's lawyer



Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Monday, June 4, 2018

The Game

"I've got an idea."

"Another one, Your Worship?"

"Don't call me 'Your Worship'.  We're not in public, Jared."  

"Okay, Dad."

"Don't call me Dad.  Call me, 'O! Legitimately-Elected Greatest Leader Ever of the Free World."

"Can I use an acronym?"

"A what?"

"Never mind.  What's the idea?"

"I think we should tell everybody that I have the absolute right to pardon myself."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow!  It's great.  I get people thinking I can pardon myself, and I get to use the word 'absolute' which will get people thinking I have absolute power.  And it's okay.  Fucking brilliant."

"Are you sure that's legal, Dad?"

"We'll make it legal.  That's what absolute power is all about.  And don't call me Dad.  Ever.  If you have to, call me 'Don Corleone'."

"But we're not Sicilians."

"Thank God.  They got some good ideas, though."

"Who should we have break the news?  Kellyanne?"

"Not Kellyanne.  Nobody believes anything she says.  Not even her own husband."

"Sarah?

"Same thing.  Give it to Numb Nuts."

"Giuliani?"

"Sure.  He'll be on all the shows saying some crazy-ass shit, and he can just slip it in somewhere."

"And you think people will buy it?"

"Of course they will.  They buy MAGA hats, don't they?  Anyway, just say it enough times and even you're gonna believe it.  Which you do already, right?  Where's your MAGA hat?"

"At the cleaners."

"I got one right here.  Twenty bucks."

"Thanks, Dad."

"DON'T call me Dad.  Call me 'The Most Legitimately-Elected Stable Genius in Human History'."

"Can I just call you 'The Most'?"

"I like that."

"One question:  What are you going to pardon yourself for?"

"Well, it can't be collusion because collusion's not a crime, and besides, THERE WAS NO COLLUSION.  That's just a WITCH HUNT conducted by 13 ANGRY DEMOCRATS and..."

"Dad.  Calm down.  It's me.  Jared.  You're not tweeting."

"DON'T CALL ME DAD.  How's Ivanka?"

"Working on her Mandarin.  Slow going."

"Well, it can't be obstruction of justice, either.  Because I AM JUSTICE, and I can't obstruct myself.  My lawyers say so.  That's fucking brilliant, too."

"Then what?"

"Let's start small.  What's Stormy Daniels up to these days?"




Thursday, May 24, 2018

Wait...

Dear Mr. Trump,

Let me see if I have this right:
  1. Today you pardoned Jack Johnson.
  2. An athlete
  3. Who was the victim of "racially-motivated injustice"
  4. (your very words),
  5. Which is the same thing
  6. That NFL athletes,
  7. Whom you persecute and vilify, 
  8. Are protesting.
Do I have that right?

I thought so.

Bafflingly yours,

Underemployed


Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

You cancelled the summit because somebody in North Korea said that Mike Pence is stupid?  If that's really the case, you do realize that you're going to have to cancel the whole world, right?

Lame excuse.  I don't know if anyone has mentioned this to you yet, but you're giving the unfortunate impression that you're just too chicken shit to have a meeting with Kim Jong Un.

I have an idea:  Call Keith Schiller and have him come over and punch you in the nose.  Just so you know what it feels like.  When you recover (and I promise you will) I think you might be less likely to worry about what people think about Mike Pence.  You might find Vladimir Putin less enthralling.  And maybe you'll feel less of a need for a big, beautiful wall to keep you safe and warm.

Who knows?  You might even stop looking for spies under your bed.

It's worth a shot,

Underemployed