Humor Satire The T-Rump Dig

Another crook in the wall …

“Ah, don’t you love the smelly aftermath of an Obamarus speech in the morning? And his wife too. Going tag team against the T-Rump.”

The Stevebannon held court under a new day’s dawn before two dozen Qanonymousarus dinos gathered around him on the Connect-the-dots coast line. He had them hanging on every word.

“They called out their best dinos, they did. A pair of lame-stream legends with some elite emotions to give you the warm and fuzzies until you cried those silly crocodilly tears. I have to admit. I was crying too. Because I was laughing so hard.”

He waited for a chuckle. Or a guffaw. None came. Of course not. Qanonymousarus dinos had no sense of humor. Their tiny walnuts spent each waking moment trying to link, one-by-one, their crazy, cryptic clues to some deep state master plan. The more wild the conspiracy, the more profound the research. There was not a moment to waste. Certainly no time to laugh. The Stevebannon reveled in propagating the myth, grinning devilishly as it snowballed into insanity.

“And the Postalsaurae. Just look at them. It’s scandalous — pure larceny — how they’ve have stolen our correspondence of Novembers past. Fraudulent. They’re all frauds! O-o-o-o-o-h, I hate frauds. They will do anything to stop the T-Rump from ruling the land. That’s why we have to keep the Postalsaurae in check. Slow ‘em down. Send ‘em home. Buh-bye.” 

There was dino murmuring as a smart-looking female dino stepped into the gathering. It was the prominent legal dino, the Audreystrauss, just in from the Manhatinhand region dino court. The Stevebannon’s eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m here for the Postalsaurae.”


“Yes. You are under arrest.”

“Hah! Surely you jest.”

“I told you my name is Audrey.”

“What’s the charge, Audrey?”

“You were mentioning fraud? That’s one. And we also have you on that popular T-Rump pastime that happens so often you’d think it was government policy.”

“What’s that?”

“Washing your moolah-moolah leaves on the wrong banks. That is, moolah-moolah laundering. Again.”

The Stevebannon coughed.

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong dino.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. In fact, I’m so sure, I’m going to sing you a song about it.”

She turned to the Qanonymousarus dinos, who leaned forward as one, cocking their ears and salivating, drooling for any wayward, wild hints they could weave into their tall and growing taller deep state tale.

We don’t need no fake foundation

We don’t need no Bannon mole

Welcome to your dark, legal doom

Like Flynn, Gates and Rogerstone

Hey! Grifter! Your crimes have come home!

All in all, you’re just another crook in the wall

All in all, you’re just another crook in the wall

You took millions in donations 

Do you really have no soul?

You’re now headed to the courtroom

Like Manafort and Michaelcohen

Hey! Grifter! This is your new home!

All in all, you’re just another crook in the wall

All in all, you’re just another crook in the wall


You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!

By David Belisle

I'm a novelist and screenwriter in search of the Great Guffaw. It's kind of like getting hit with a bucket of Gatorade. It's a good time that sticks with you.

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