National INQUISITOR: 500 CRIMES & 5,000 LIES



The latest chronicler of the human shit-gibbon president’s escapades is the National INQUISITOR


WASHINGTON D.C. — David Pecker.  Seriously.  David J. Pecker is the chairman and CEO of American Media, at least for a little while longer.  He publishes the National Enquirer, Star, Sun, Weekly World News, Globe, Men’s Fitness, Muscle and Fitness, Flex, Fit Pregnancy, and Shape.  But what he’s going to be remembered for is buying and burying ugly shit about Donald Trump.  And by doing so, he’s been given immunity from prosecution for his roll in colluding with Trump and his fixer, Michael Cohen, to keep the truth of Trump’s tawdry doings (oh, and the tawdry doings of his adult children, too) out of the flagship shit rag of his publishing empire, The National Enquirer.  He might as well have driven a gasoline tanker trunk into the building, because he’s effectively burning it to the ground in spectacular fashion.  Yeah, too bad.

Well nature abhors a vacuum, so there should be a new shit rag in town, the National INQUISITOR©.   Only instead of demeaning all of Trump‘s enemies the way Pecker did with his shit rag, the INQUISITOR will be savaging Trump— and all of his cronies, until death do them part from our planet.  Godspeed.

FSociety: The Feral Dog Sweats




Faithless readers of this blog will not recognize yet another unheard of magazine atop a post, the reviewing of which is one of our favorite distractions as we hunker down for the inevitable unraveling of TRUMP’merica©.
MAGOT” MAGAzine— an acronym for “Make America Get Over Trump”—  (good luck with that, fellow optimists), is our latest, and tiny hands down, most traumatic find to date.  See other Mags here, herehere, here, here, and WhyTFN, a TeeVee mag here.


Normally we like to regale our occasional readers with the quaint back story of how we come across these often bizarre publications, but honestly, this POS* was found at the local Department of Motor Vehicles, and there’s simply nothing more to be said about that lost-time experience that would do anything but pull the scab off a perennial psychic wound.


Oh yeah.  Some of our fellow Americans don’t watch television, but enough of us do that, chances are, you’ve seen the term “FSociety” in relation to the series, MR. ROBOT.  Their usage of the term is in conjunction with the traditional “F” word.  But in TRUMP’merica©, we’re redefining the “F” word to mean FAKE;  not fuck.  As in “FAKE” Society.  But it’s not the usage of the word “fake” that the feral dog inhabiting the White House has been abusing for the past year.  It’s reality itself.  But Trump only applies the term to any media outlet with the temerity to report the news about him with respect to facts in evidence, facts in reality.

So here we are. In FSociety, the president is addicted to Twitter.  It’s become a daily raging barometer of his griplessness.  In FSociety, the president is a self-admitted justice-obstructing, pussy-grabbing sexual predator, accused by, at last count, sixteen women.  In FSociety, the president has blathered out over 1600 verifiable lies— just since taking office.

In FSociety, the president’s National Security Advisor has pled guilty to lying to the FBI, and before too much longer will very likely give up all the lying, money-laundering, justice-obstructing, treasonous country-fucking turds who he colluded with last year.


Go ahead.  Take a deep, life-giving breath if you can.  And realize this:
If indeed our gut-shot democracy has a breath of life left in it, it’s currently being used to keep Robert Mueller alive.


*Piece Of Satire


LIAR Chooses Conway Over Trump


March LIAR Chooses Conway Over Trump

Naa, that’s not makeup, it’s just death emerging through her skin.


LIAR Magazine lurched into the motherlode of all liars with the election of #FakePresident Trump and his slowly accumulating disintegrating staff of cabinet level fudgebutts.  And they’re apparently already bored with putting T-rump on their cover every stinking month, as someone remembered that Kellyanne Conway, counselor to the #FakePresident, lies just as much and a lot more cleverly than her cheeto daddy does.

But first, what the hell is up with the sugar skull makeup?  I know, who can’t see the rapid soul-sucking collapse of Conway’s face— but why make yourself a walking talking joke just to get noticed at cabinet meetings.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that made me recoil when I first listened to her;  there was some kind of speech impediment going on, even kinda similar to Sean Spicer’s impediment— then I finally heard it:  she sounds like a fourth-grader with the gift of diarrhea mouth.

You will be feeling exhausted after taking in even a part of the verbal landslide of effluvia which flows effortlessly past her incredibly white vampire teeth:


“I do think you’re cherry-picking some appointments in that we’ve got-we’ve even been lauded by some of his naysayers and detractors as having put together HE not we, HE’s put together an amazing cabinet of very qualified men and women people who have done great things in the public and private sector and who are willing to share those experiences in the cabinet, and I would just say you know eight years ago at this time, I certainly, I don’t know about other people but weren’t critical of the cabinet that was in formation because you want the new president um, whoever the occupant is to be able to take his time maybe one day her time, to form that cabinet in a way that helps, will help to execute on their agenda on their vision for the world and for the nation’s economy and, those who at least are giving the president a wide, president elect excuse me a wide berth and the deep breath to do that, I think will be very impressed with who he’s put there in some of these different positions.”

Lisa Feldsher

We used to think she was a maniacal genius, but wished we had her on our team. Now, we just think she’s maniacal. She could however regain some of our respect if she were to quit the verbal gymnastics and simply speak the truth – but then she’d be out of a job.

And for that, we’d thank you, Kellyanne, and God.


RollingPwned: Why Bernie Must Be PrezDon’t let those punchy headlines fool you;  it’s the black and white Bernie who’s telling it like it is.


My twenty-one year old car is old enough to vote, and like Bernie Sanders, is time-worn and tested to go whatever distance.  Like anything worthwhile it requires occasional maintenance, so it was off to Mike the mechanic today for a checkup.  I spent some time in the waiting area, and what I found there, totally hot off the press, was Bernie on the cover of the RollingPwned™.

I heard that, “The what??”  Now I’m no RollingStone subscriber or reader.  I just bump into it more or less irregularly in the circles I travel in, thus I’m a longtime fan of Ralph Steadman and Hunter Thompson in the past and Matt Tiabbi in the present.  But it’s a total coincidence that I learned of the recent endorsement of Hillary Clinton in a recent edition of RollingStone by co-founder, Jann Wenner;  a few days before I discovered this RollingPwned™ in the wait room of an auto repair shop today.
Wenner shorter:  I’m not impressed by multi-millionaire Wenner’s idea of what constitutes his “reality of modern America.”  Like so many other Americans, he’s willing to be told by Clinton what is possible and what is not.  And his dolorous “I have been to the revolution before— It ain’t happening” shtick is pathetic.

So.  I’ve gotta spend a few good hours with this mag, even though I already know why Bernie must be Prez; and the other articles promise to be more than entertaining.

—Matt Tiabbi

The new Democratic version of idealism came in a package called “transactional politics.” It was about getting the best deal possible given the political realities, which we were led to believe were hopelessly stacked against the hopes and dreams of the young.

For young voters, the foundational issues of our age have been the Iraq invasion, the financial crisis, free trade, mass incarceration, domestic surveillance, police brutality, debt and income inequality, among others.

And to one degree or another, the modern Democratic Party, often including Hillary Clinton personally, has been on the wrong side of virtually all of these issues.

Because:  You’ve been to one party, you’ve been to them all.  It’s time to surf. Because every few seconds, another wave washes towards humanity, and if he will catch it, he will ride reality anew.

*prez |prez|
  informal term for president.


BLOWFISH: TRUMPBLOWFISH Megazine always features a human blowfish on the cover.

It’s a thing I do; subscribe to weird magazines.  BLOWFISH has been publishing for a few years now, but wasn’t one of my favorites until this issue.  Like a lot of Democrats and Independents, I like my blowfish with a nice caper tartar sauce.  And like an increasing number of Republicans, I loath the two-legged variety that wears silk ties made in China.

When I was a kid “summering” in the torpid backwaters of the Illinois River, my best friend Philip and I would spend countless hours fishing from my dad’s homemade green fishing boat.  Various species of fish populated the sloughs and shores where we fished, but the blowfish, being a saltwater creature, was not among them.  Truth is, I never heard of blowfish until I joined the Navy;  it turns out the Navy was full of human blowfish.  But shit, that’s another story.

When you say blowfish, most people think of the poisonous pufferfish, or Fugu.  It’s a big family, and the members are variously called pufferfish, puffers, balloonfish, blowfish, bubblefish, bloatfish, bloaters, globefish, swellfish, toadfish, toadies, honey toads, sugar toads, and what the hell is that??   And now, you can add Trumpfish to the list.  

In the BLOWFISH interview, Donald If-His-Lips-Are-Moving-He’s-Lying Trump didn’t really cover any new ground, just the usual scorched earth bravado of recent weeks liberally peppered with the phrases, “I’m tremendously wealthy,”  “that I will tell you,” and “believe me.”  But what was interesting was how transparently stupid he sounds when he, you know, talks; even when he’s just tweeting like an infantile buffoon.

Blowfish bellies are covered with small, short spines, not unlike the soft underbellies of politicians.  The spines make it tough to penetrate their vulnerable underbellies, making their gut more or less impervious to the world around them.  A lot of critics look at Trump and just see a mouthy, out-of-touch troglodyte, pushing his brand into our national political debate as if it were just another marketing opportunity.  Yeah; there’s that.  But there’s an increasing number of Democrats who see his “campaign” as a gift-blowfish;  a surefire victory for anyone the Democrats will nominate to run against whomever emerges from the Republican Clown Car.
Hmm.  How wrong can they be.