Category: Humor

The Mediacircustops elbowed each other for position. It was another impeachment scrum and the news was positively juicy. Dinos couldn’t wait to take a bite out of it.

The Moscowmitch stepped up to the rocky lectern.

“I just want to remind our Grandoldparty dinos that we will be staying lock-step with the Tyrumposaurus, the Oval Dwelling and all his legal dino hangers-on throughout the upcoming Sin Hut trial. No surprises. Everything I do, we will be coordinating with the Oval Dwelling, every single step of the way.”

“Excuse me, Moscowmitch?”

It was the Hogangidley, a Mediacircustops sub-species on the T-Rump communication team.

“Not now, Hogan. I’m in the middle of some quality shock-and-awe news. Please be quiet so they can feel the full affect.” He turned back to the Mediacircustops melee. “Again, we already know the outcome. There is positively no way the T-Rump will be impeached.”

“We’ll see about that!”

The Jerrynadler jumped up onto a nearby rock that gave him a leg up on the Moscow Mitch.

“You took a special oath to the Continental Divide when you sit in a dino impeachment trial. You pledged to do impartial justice and you just said you’re going to work with the T-Rump and his team? That’s a violation of your oath. A complete subversion of the Continental Divide scheme. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Now, now, Nadler, don’t get your tail in a knot. I do recall the …”

“Moscowmitch?” It was the Hogangidley again.

“Hogan! Don’t you have a home to go to?”

The Hogangidley withdrew somewhat.

“As I was saying, the Duckbill Clintonsaurus spoke a couple of times with his Grandoldparty dinos when he was being impeached for lying.”

“While the T-Rump is approaching 15 thousand lies,” said the Jerrynadler.

“Ah, but not one under oath.”

“Because you won’t let him talk under oath. You know he would perjure himself in three syllables.”

“Moscowmitch?” asked Hogan.

“What in bluegrass blazes is it, Hogan?”

“I – I … well, I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you.”

“Well, uh … that’s nice, Hogan. I don’t know if this is the time or place for it.”

“I wrote you a song.”

“You did. Well, imagine that.” The Moscowmitch paused. No one had ever written a song for him. He perked up and forgot about dino party biz for a minute. “Maybe that’s what we need,” he said, warming to his audience. “A little pick me up from these past few weeks of negative, partisan division. Go ahead, Hogan. Let’s hear it. Ahem. Sing it loud now so the dinos in the back can hear you.”

Your cheatin’ heart

For all us sheep

We lie and lie

Then buy some creep

That creep’s so dumb

What can we do?

Your cheatin’ heart is right on cue

When T-Rump gets down

And acts insane

I hit the ground

And find no shame

To pout some more

The way I do

Your cheatin’ heart looks good on you

Your cheatin’ heart

So much to say

Push comes to shove

You’ll save the day

Their facts, ho-hum

Impeach? Can’t do!

Your cheatin’ heart, our world view

Ukraine shake-down

Seems pretty plain

Corruption found

Cuz that’s our name

You’ll walk next door

To T-Rump’s crew

Your cheatin’ heart will see us through 

………………………………

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!

“In conclusion,” said the dinosaur inspector general, the Michaelhorowitz, “Our investigation of the investigators showed that while they made a few mistakes in their treatment of that vapid vagabond, the Carterpage, that otherwise it was a perfect process with no bias, no spies, literally nothing of what the Grandoldparty was grandstanding upon. No witch hunt. No hoax. No deep state. I trust they will finally stop beating this dead dinosaur.”

The Williambarr raised a short arm.

“With all due respect, dear dino whom I might yet dismiss, I disagree on principle and the very fact this is how I intend to keep my job. I will hereby be launching an investigation of the investigators’ investigators’ investigators.

“Uh, that’s one too many investigators.”

“You might think so. I’m just staying one step ahead of the deep state.”

“I just said there is no deep state.”

“I’m not listening.”

“I’m listening.” The Jimjordan jumped in. “And I can’t believe my ears. Let’s repackage this right now so we can feed it to our friends, those good ol’ Foxsquawkbox dinos. Your report, Horowitz? News flash. We don’t care what you found out. Whatever it is, I officially declare a stunning victory for the Grandoldparty faithful and a colossal defeat for the Donkeykongrus. Got that? Now then. I have four facts here I need to drill into the Milkanhoney Preservation because you know what they say about confirmation bias. It wears off! Hah! Here goes. Fact number 1. The T-Rump is a great dino. He’s lied 13,400 times so, yes, of course he’s a pathological liar. To quote the Mickmulvaney, get over it! Number 2. The Ukraine Plain interfered in our election even though they desperately needed our military aid to avoid extinction at the hands of those pesky Russodinos. Don’t you see it? The fact they interfered makes no sense at all. Absolutely none. At. All. That’s why they did it! Fact number 3. That’s right, we have three facts. The Rudygiuliani was over in the Ukraine Plain again. And he’s going to keep going back. That little dino may cause a lot of trouble for us, but hot damn, tell me if deep, deep down beside those little butterflies in your gut you don’t feel something, I mean, you gotta hand it to the guy, right? And finally, fact number 4, this just in. One of Giuliani’s grubby, I mean, buddy dinos, the Levparnas, okay, he did receive a million moolah-moolah leaves from the Russodinos. But just hold on there. Before you go pointing fingers, you just give Rudy a fightin’ chance to go and find the Ukraine Plain link, okay. Because he’s a dino on a bloody bone. You owe him at least that.”

“Are you done?” came a voice from the side.

“Am I done? Don’t start with me, I’ll kick your …”

The voice belonged to the T-Rump.

“I’ll kick myself right in the teeth … before I ever use that tone again with you. Good to see you, boss. Have I groveled enough? You just tell me to roll over and I’ll play dead.”

But the T-Rump had already forgotten him. He turned to the rest of the Kongrus Kave.

“I saw some snow outside and there were some dinos exchanging gifts. It must be the holiday season and I remembered that its been awhile since you all have shown your loyalty to me. And gratitude. Don’t forget the gratitude.”

“We’re doing our best to save your bacon,” said the Moscowmitch.

“Do I look worried?  Oh, sure, I may have grumbled a bit. But I decided to do something about it. Fight fire with fire, so I wrote a little song.”

He looked around the Kongrus Kave. Nobody was going to ask him to sing it. They needed his backing. Not his voice.

“Alright then. Thanks for asking.”

I’ll be impeached by Christmas

I won’t cop a plea

It will be a great big show

To suit my vanity

Kim Jong Un will send me

A nice big gift that gleams

I’ll be impeached by Christmas

Just listen to those screams

I’ll be impeached by Christmas

When the Zelensky

Will finally come to know

That Putin is with me

Abuse of power. Who me?

Obstruction? In your dreams!

I’ll be impeached by Christmas

It’s just not what it seems

………………………………

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!

“Where’s Rudy?” 

It was the popular refrain these days. The Impeachment Days. Or the salad days for unsuspecting herbivores who once trusted their governing dinos. The Grandoldparty defense of whataboutism-hearsay-bad process-repeat had done little to allay the Donkeykongrus’ overland, hill and dale, methodical, calculated attack on the Tyrumposaurus, who squatted nervously in the Oval Dwelling with the Devilnunes, the Jimjordan and the Dougcollins at his tail. The Mickmulvaney had been given another week off. Something about a long walk-about for the ol’ walnut.

The T-Rump’s tongue slithered out and snapped back in his mouth. He wasn’t about to ask again.

“The Rudygiuliani?” scoffed the Dougcollins. “Who needs him?”

“Don’t talk about my lawyer that way. We wouldn’t be here without him.”

“Uh, that’s not a good thing, boss. Rudy’s nothing but trouble. He’s going to be in the Solitary Sinkhole by the end of the month.”

“I give him two weeks,” said the Jimjordan. “Any takers? How ‘bout you, Devil?”

The Devilnunes didn’t answer. He was sulking under a cloud of embarrassment since it had been discovered he’d traveled to the Ukraine Plain prior to the scandal and had then kept quiet about it during the committee hearing even though it was a blatant conflict of interest.

“Where’s Rudy?” asked the Jimjordan before remembering where he was. “Oh, sorry. This distraction-obfuscation thing, been doing it for three years now. Kind of forget where I am sometimes.”

He put a short arm around the Devilnunes.

“Don’t take it so bad, Devil. Hey, how about Dougie here? That Rhodescholarus dino, the Pamelakarlin, she really gob-stomped you yesterday, didn’t she? You insulted her, Dougie! Insulted her!”

The Jimjordan and the Dougcollins exchanged high- and low-fives … about eight inches apart.

“I oughta give you a raise, Doug,” said the T-Rump. “Except, well, you know.”

“I know, I know. You don’t have any moolah-moolah handy.”

The T-Rump never had any moolah handy.

“It’s all tied up on the banks,” he explained for the thousandth time. “Drying out. Should have some leaves for you soon. Next week maybe.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

The Stephaniegrisham poked her nose into the Oval Dwelling. The T-Rump’s nose rose.

“What is it, doll?”

“That, that old battle-dino, the Nancypelosi. She announced that they’re drawing up articles for your impeachment. How dare she! I mean, who does she think she is? That’s not in the Continental Divide!”

“Actually, it is,” said the Dougcollins. “This is getting serious, boss. Who are we gonna call?”

“Where’s Rudy?”

Miles away the Rudygiuliani muddled through his own walk-about. But his was no ordinary walk-about. He was a dino on a mission with just one thing on his mind. A light rain began to fall, the raindrops dancing off the leaves around him. His thoughts turned melodious and he began to sing … 

The ugliness of this farce, it seems more baseless and malicious

Than their first attempted coup — a take-down so fictitious!

Fuhgeddabowdit, I can’t lay low, forgotten in Manhattan

I’m going home to find more willing prey 

I left my heart in Kiev, Ukraine

Deep in a cave, Shokin calls to me

To be where my little smear and clear got Yovanovitch outta here

And even though I’m under investigation, I don’t care!

I would love to shift the focus to Kiev, Ukraine

And those bad Bidens, unlike my pals, Igor and Lev

When I come home to you, Kiev, Ukraine

Your golden dirt will set the T-Rump free!

……………………………………………………………………

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!

“This is one big Picklesaurus we’re in,” the Rudygiuliani said with his freakish grimace —  his googly eyes bouncing around his forehead. He’d been doing this a lot lately.

“Did somebody say Picklesaurus?” asked the Tyrumposaurus. “I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. Why do I have to tell dinos that? Don’t they know? Stephanie,  you do know I’m hungry don’t you? Do something!”

The Stephaniegrisham knew better than to ask where she was going to find a Picklesaurus at this time of the night. Were Picklesaurae nocturnal? She didn’t know. She cursed the Huckabeecyclops and her long laugh that had echoed through the Oval Dwelling when she’d left. 

The T-Rump and his cavalcade of legal dinos had gathered to discuss their strategy. The dino depositions were over. The Grandoldparty dinos had complained long and loud about all the witnesses’ hearsay and how the T-Rump had been shut out of the process. Never mind that this was the very definition of how dino depositions had been carried out down through the ages. These days if you looked at the Lindseygraham wrong you were accused of dino-slaughter.

Next up in the impeachment process was the dino judge committee hearing. The Jaysekulow rose from his squat.

“Sorry to say, but it looks like we’re screwed. If we participate, we legitimize the process and just make the T-Rump look guilty. If we don’t participate, we could continue our story that there has been no due process and the whole thing is just a hoax. But the Donkeykongrus will nail us then for more obstruction and call it a big cover-up.”

“That’s it?” gasped the T-Rump. “And you’re working for me for free? You should be paying me to squat here and listen to this garbage. I’m a sick dino, you know. Not that kind of sick. You’re killing me here!”

Legal dino after legal dino rose from their squat, raised a short arm, remembered they had nothing to say and squatted back into languishing embarrassment. How did a dino defend the T-Rump? You may as well try to put the lava back in the volcano.

A tail whack at the entrance caused them all to breathe the sigh of reprieve. It was their arch-enemy. The Jerrynadler.

“What are you doing here?” snapped the T-Rump. “Don’t I see enough of you at work?”

“Yes. Be that as it may, I’m here to let you know of this week’s plans, what with the hearing we’ve planned. Ahem. You know, for your impeachment?”

“You had to remind me. Hurry up. Get it over with and be on your way.”

“Uh … do you mind if I sing it to you?”

“Every dino’s a musician this month. Well, I know you won’t be singing like the Gordonsondland. Or the Mickmulvaney if he ever thinks I can’t keep my fat foot on his scrawny little yellow neck. Did I just say that? I, uh … didn’t know you could sing, Nadler.”

“I can’t. I just like the tune.”

The Jerrynadler tapped his tail on the ground and outside the wind in the woods arrived with such brass.

I can see we’re thinking about the same things

Yes, I see your worry when a crony sings

We both know there’s an impeachment happening here

There’s no sense dancing around the subject

Immune you’re not, you simply cannot deflect 

Well, you know now.

There’s something here to fear.

You can talk to us.

Talk to us.

You can talk to us.

You can understand the fuss, maybe

Now is your chance for your story to be heard

There’s a deadline to participate inside

Again, this means you

I know you think it’s hard

To come out of hiding

But just so you know who’s barred

No, Hunterbiden

No Whistleblower, but there’s something you can do

You can talk to us

You can talk to us, I know you’re down now

You can talk to us.

T-T- ahem … Talk to us.

Now, you may lie to our face, we’ll turn the other cheek

So the legal dinos can find the penalty they seek

Your wall runs high against what we hold dear

Let that wall come down

Seems right to me

You can make amends or get the third degree

You need some friends who see the danger here

You can talk to us

Talk to us, time to take your bow

You can talk to us

You can one day be free. Maybe.

Well, just remember that I’m pulling the strings

And like the judge said, we don’t need any kings

Do not disregard. We’ll just call this tough love.

Because we know of all your schemes, that should be enough

You want to see who? Maybe.

Some advice for you? Maybe.

Talk to us. Yes.

Sorry to say, no, you can’t have everything.

…………………………………………………………………………

You can hear the musical version of this post this Saturday — and other past T-Rump Dig posts — at Podbean. Enjoy!

Within his bloated stomach, his intestines growled angrily erupting with a long-drawn-out, guttural burp. The Tyrumposaurus had eaten a bad Cheezbuggabugga and been forced to make an emergency visit to his dino doc. Following a healthy sip of unhealthy swamp water, the T-Rump was recovering in the dino “Be Better Den”. He looked up, recognizing the other dino beside him.

“The Rickwilson? What are you doing in here?”

“Doc said I had an acute attack of Snarkiness. And I think I’m about to relapse.”

“No, why are you in here? I should have my own den. You know I don’t share anything.”

“Don’t worry, the doc said I wouldn’t be here long. Something about laughter, however sarcastic, still being good medicine. My therapy dino is arriving shortly.”

There was a tap-tap tail rap at the entrance and a handsome dino, the Stingosaurus entered the den.

“Here he is now. Sting!” the Rickwilson greeted him. “How’s our project coming?”

“Great. I was just putting the finishing touches on it.”

“What project is that?” asked the T-Rump.

The Stingosaurus looked at the Rickwilson.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“About what?” asked the T-Rump.

“We wrote a song for you,” said the Rickwilson.

“Isn’t that a coincidence?”

“You’re all I think about,” the Rickwilson said with a cheesy grin. 

“That’s great. Just great. I’ve been meaning to commission a song about me for a long time. Nobody would do it. I mean, I just never got around to it. I mean, look at all the great things I’ve done. So many great things. And how I’ve made the Milkanhoney Preservation a better place for every dino.”

“There are so many,” said the Stingosaurus.

“Well, what are you waiting for? I don’t have all day. Sing, dammit. Sing me my song.”

Everything you touch and every move as such

Every useless crutch, every tweet too much, all are dead from you

Every single day with every boast you bray

Every law you slay, every name betrayed, all are dead from you

Oh, can’t you be locked up, toss the key 

How this green earth quakes with every hand you shake

Every rep your snake, and every swamp your lake

Every day you wake, every oath you break, all are dead from you

Since day one you have been a huge disgrace

That ugly smirk crawls again right up your face 

As you pull the wool o’er your sheepish base 

I feel so bold, we have your impeachment case

I keep crying, “Maybe, maybe, please”

Oh, can’t you be locked up, toss the key

How this green earth quakes with every hand you shake

Every Sean Spicer and every McMaster

Every Bob Corker, every Kurt Volker, all are dead from you

Every smug Kushner, every T-Rump Jr., all are dead from you

All are dead from you

Every Chris Christie, every James Comey

Every John Kelly, every Rick Perry (all are dead from you)

Every Ryan Zinke, every Mulvaney

Every Sally Yates, every Ricky Gates (all are dead from you)

Every poor McCabe, every weak Ukraine 

Every sad Jeff Flake, every heaven’s sake (all are dead from you)

Every Reince Priebus, every James Maddis

Every Don McGahn, every Lindsey Graham (all are dead from you)

Every Gary Cohn, every Pompeo

Every Jeff Sessions, every Tillerson (all are dead from you)

Every Steve Bannon, every John Bolton

Every McFarland, every Jim Jordan (all are dead from you)

Every Mark Meadows, every Navarro

Every McCarthy, every McKinley