TRUMPLIGULA’S DIAGNOSIS: Malignant Narcissism. President Fuckface Von Clownstick is a Psycho Fuck and Needs To be Put On Horse Tranquilizers and Caged!

trump_fuck_a_duckExperts the world over are so aghast at the twisted horror of the election of senescent trust fund twit Fuckface Von Clownstick that they can barely get their righteous hate and rage down on paper, surprisingly being left to sputter choice phrases about the sickness that puts shoes on every day and calls itself Trump.

Read: Johns Hopkins’ Top Psychotherapist Releases Terrifying Diagnosis Of President Trump

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31yates-master768Hero Goddess of the Republic, Sally Q. Yates of what’s left of the Justice Department, took a stand against the twisted, neonazi ban on browns today, exhibiting the immense fucking gonads of a fucking AMERICA!n who just won’t take fascism in the mouth like the rest of you pieces of shit that voted for the metrosexual trust-fund twit, President Fuckface Von Clownstick.

Yates, who unlike the rest of the sad sacks who work in Justice in the last days of the Obama Administration, carries her balls in a wheel-barrel, said, “I am responsible for ensuring that the positions we take in court remain consistent with this institution’s solemn obligation to always seek justice and stand for what is right,” Ms. Yates wrote in a letter to Justice Department lawyers. “At present, I am not convinced that the defense of the executive order is consistent with these responsibilities nor am I convinced that the executive order is lawful.”

CRUSH! Von Clownstick’s FUCKING FACE!, Hero Goddess Yates! CRUSH IT! Make that piece of shit understands there’s one steely fucking crusader for justice left in the Justice Department that won’t suck his cock because his daddy wrote him a check.

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Shit in Steven Bannon’s Mouth and Hold His Fucking Nose Until He Swallows

bannonInsane neonazi psychopath Steve Bannon’s declaration of war is a moment which should steel all writers, foreign and domestic, simple and majestic, and editors of any media instrument who give a flying fuck about anything, anything at all, to strike back with truth and fury and with extreme fucking prejudice to drown this twisted freak in shit.

Here’s the plan to deal with neonazi Sarah Palin biographer drunk Steve Bannon. Locate the largest drums of rancid clams you can find – the skunkier the better. Duct tape your nose closed and woof them down with all the purpose you can muster, inspired with the knowledge that this piece of dog shit must be discredited and ejected from the civil society he claims to defend.

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Meet Me in St. Louis

Never again for the first time.

Traveling to the United States on a tourist or business visa is a straightforward process: You apply at the local embassy or consulate, sit through an interview if someone wants to know you better, pay your fees, and done. Depending on season and demand, takes three to six weeks.

This is how nineteen of the twenty 9/11 hijackers entered our country. The twentieth arrived on a student visa.

None were refugees.

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The Gatherings

Baby, it’s cold outside.

We’re not sure what we expected. We’re not sure we expected anything. Coming of age in the Seventies, in liberal college-town Eugene, “protests” were such a tired tool that we mercilessly mocked each week’s low-attendance chantfest. “Moral preening” was not an expression in currency at the time, but it would have fit.

So we woke up Saturday morning, saw the initial reports of the crowd in DC: Good for them. No, really: It already looked more packed — and clearly more joyous — than the Inauguration the day before, and symbols matter a lot these days. Just ask the Hamilton cast.

And then we saw a video of the Denver crowd.

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Even Nixon Smiled

Say Jeez.

We know that Donald Trump takes his persona very seriously — he’ll watch tapes of his television appearances on mute to make sure his scowl is Just Right. It’s all about the presentation, since the substance is all sand.

And, fresh from his hostile takeover of the Twitter @POTUS account, here’s the Official Look for America’s new Fascist Era, all sunshine and optimism and—

Well, no. If this starts showing up at post offices, you’ll be forgiven for mistaking it for a Most Wanted poster.

Now I Am Become Death, The Destroyer of Worlds

Which Horseman are you?