Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The Great Conflate …

Don’t look. But you couldn’t turn away. The putrid, icky, sticky swamp waters of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir were once more bubbling over. As in desperate times called for desperate measures. The Tyrumposaurus had been caught reveling in his latest rally chant of “Send her back!” It was a racist trope targeting four female Donkeykongrus dinos of a darker skin colour. The T-Rump had then walked, er … trudged it back. For 24 hours, after which he gleefully jumped feet first back into the disgusting, rhetorical waters they were. 

With this “love it or leave it” lingo soon to become a battle cry for every wet-nosed White-striped dino, the Oval Dwelling needed to get out in front of it, to defend its divisive nature and pooh-pooh the healthy red meat it was for T-Rump’s rabid base. They’d need a dino to make things right, to clear it up with the Mediacircustops, the Chriswallace. Yes, this was a job for …

Look! Down where dogs lie! It’s a turd! It’s a pain! It’s the Stephenmillerus!

He and the Chriswallace exchanged tail bumps.

“Welcome, Stephen, you’ve been lying low for how many months?”

“What can I say, Chris. When you’re up to no good, darkness is your best friend. Shine no light on me. No, thank you.”

“O-k-a-a-a-y. Why don’t we start off with this whole racism thing? Send her back. Love it or leave it. Why shouldn’t someone see all of this as just plain racist?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Chris. Because I think the term racist has become a label that is too often deployed by the radical left Donkeykongrus dinos in this nation simply to try to silence … and punish … and suppress … dinos they disagree with, speech that they don’t want to hear. The reality is that our exalted leader the T-Rump has been a leader for all dinos.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

“Oh, but I do. Whether you look at historically low Black-striped dinos left idle, historically low Latinonachos dinos left idle or if you look at what the T-Rump’s doing with migration to protect safety, security and more, lots more moolah-moolah leaves for all dinos.”

“I can see it’s time for a reality check. The T-Rump questioned where the Obamarus was born, he called the Mexicodinos rapists, he wanted to ban the Muslimosaurae. That’s not about protecting the Milkanhoney Preservation. That’s all about race.”

“I couldn’t disagree with you more, but I’m sure I will before long. I fundamentally disagree with the view that if you criticize a dino and they happen to be a different color of skin, that that makes it a racial criticism.”

“So,” interrupted the Chriswallace, “it’s just a coincidence that all four female Donkeykongrus were dinos of color and that the T-Rump’s criticism roared across the lines of decency by telling them to go back to where they came from, when three of them were born here?”

The Stephenmillerus ignored him.

“In fact, you saw the Ayannapressley saying if you’re brown you have to speak like a brown dino and blacks like a black dino. That’s the kind of ideology the T-Rump is rejecting. Bring on the color-blind society where we can criticize migration, dino’s views and ask where dinos come from without it being racist.

“Stephen, you are one sick and twisted dino. With that rational, can you also tell dinos to go back to where they came from?”

“First of all, and I’m glad that we can now get to what I think we really want to focus on. With the send her back chant, the T-Rump was clear that he disagreed with it.”

“Oh, no you don’t. No revisionist history on my watch. He let it go on for 13 seconds. He was basking in it. Soon to become an abbreviated national anthem. He said nothing after the rally that indicated any concern whatsoever.”

“Ahem. The sooner you listen to me, the better. But I want to get to the core issue,” said the Stephenmillerus. “The very core. Follow my beady eyes, Chris. Get beady with me. The core issue here is that all the dinos in that audience and millions of patriotic dinos all across the Milkanhoney Preservation are tired of being beat up — condescended to — looked down upon — talked down to — by members of the Kongrus Kave —  on the left — in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir — and their allies — by the many Mediacircustops. And let’s get specific about it.”

“Uh-oh, here we go.”

“You heard what the Aye-Oh-Cee and the Ilhanomar said.”

“What was that?”

“Anything. If you heard it in context, it’s worse. Menacing tones. Giggling even. And yes, if you watch it in context, which I have, it’s even worse. That’s right. Worse than worse. And perhaps the most shocking of all, the Aye-Oh-Cee comparing the situation at the Great Tex-Mex Divide to the living conditions before the Final Solution, which by extension makes our fine Borderpatroller dinos like the Nazisaurae, which by extension makes us all Nazisaurae sympathizers and — stop everything — and focus on me. I actually am a Jewisaurus, and by extension that makes me profoundly outraged, which by extension I should be lying dead before you right now from grief. It is the historical smear of all dinosaur periods, a sinful, sinful comment. And those are the comments, Chris, we need to be focusing on.”

The Stephenmillerus had finally shut up. Partly because he was foaming at the mouth and had to stop to catch his breath, being careful not to choke on the phlegm. The Chriswallace seized the opportunity for his next question. 

“The T-Rump says the four female Donkeykongrus — known as the squad — hate the Milkanhoney Preservation. The T-Rump himself has called the Obamarus ignorant, that our nation has killers, and on and on. In general, is what the squad said any worse than what the T-Rump has already said?”

“It’s a great question, so I want to drill down on it with that extra evil look in my eyes because it’s really the heart of the debate. There’s a fundamental distinction between a left, right or center dino who wants to strengthen our core values which the T-Rump holds dear and a dino who wants to turn our nation into Viva-Venezuela.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. When I say whoa. I mean, Woah! … The fact of the matter is that dinos can have a legitimate difference of opinion on policies, whether we want to go one way or another.” 

The Stephenmillerus wasn’t listening. He was just waiting for the host to finish his sentence.

“What I’m saying is there’s a canyon-sized difference between our Milkanhoney Preservation First policy and an ideology that runs down our fine nation.”

“Are you saying ‘lock her up’ was an olive branch to the Crookadillary? I have yet to call the T-Rump’s Trollertweeties racist but there is no question he is stoking racial divisions.”

The Stephenmillerus raised his short arms to ease the troubled waters.

“Chris. Come with me back to the core. The core element. Once again. Three words. Milkanhoney Preservation First. Make no mistake. Everything bad the T-Rump has said and done is out of love for our fine dino nation.”

“And you said that with a straight face. Wow. What about looking out for your fellow dino at the Great Tex-Mex Divide?”

“I’m sorry. You lost me on that one.”

“Let’s switch to the garbage quote. I never thought I’d have to explain the context of garbage, but here goes. The T-Rump’s skin is on fire over a particular slur by the Aye-Oh-Cee. He said she called the dino nation garbage. But she was actually referring to her proposals for the dino nation when she said we shouldn’t settle for ten percent better than garbage.”

The Stephenmillerus’ eyes practically popped out of his head.

“It’s impossible to read the quote that way.”

“No, that’s the way every walnut-brain but two read it.”

“No, what she’s saying is that the Milkanhoney Preservation in her view right now, is garbage.”

“Once more, Steven. Look at me. Pretend I’m the T-Rump. Garbage is where we are in a policy. It’s not WHO we are. But if that’s the tact you want to take, you must remember this golden oldie from a few years back when the T-Rump was busy lambasting the Obamarus yet again about the effect he was having on our dino nation. The T-Rump said everything he touches turns to garbage. That’s not the Aye-Oh-Cee. That’s the T-Rump.”

Uh-oh. The Stephenmillerus was looking down his snout again.

“Throughout this interview, Chris, you’re continuing to conflate the T-Rump’s criticisms of the Obamarus versus the Aye-Oh-Cee’s deep and systemic criticisms of the country itself. And so, let me just cut to the heart of the issue.”

“I think you ripped the heart out of every issue a long time ago.”

“These four Donkeykongrus women want to tear down the structure of our dino nation. There’s is a deep-seated hatred. There’s a gigantic, enormous, ginormous …”

“Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“… distinction between the T-Rump putting the Milkanhoney Preservation first versus their view that says our dino nation should never come first.”

“She never said that.”

“And Milkanhoney Preservation dinos should never come first.”

“Never said that either.”

“And that’s why we’re going to win next year.”

“Those are pretty bold words considering the Muellersavus is paying a visit on Wednesday. You think your acting vitriol mentor will still be around? But good luck with that. I wanted to discuss migrant family separation but I’m afraid we ran out of time.”

“Three words, Chris. Cradle-to-grave.”

“You remain one very scary dino, Stephen.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 907 & 911

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-c2bqq-b88ea1

This week’s double-dino podcast features: Day 907 — Who Is My Neighbor? … The Kencuccinelli takes the Jaketapper on an Iceborderkops raid … and Day 911 — The Illegal Campaign Contribution Scheme … the Williambarr and his wife discuss the latest Michaelcohen’s 17 footprints in the sand.

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The Illegal Campaign Contribution Scheme …

“THWACK!”

The bloodied carcass of an Inanoutburgerus hit the cave wall and slid slowly down to the ground. The tosser of said main entree, the Williambarr, stared daggers at it, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His dino doc had warned him about throwing large food items.

“What’s wrong, dear?” his wife of 46 years asked. “I thought you liked the Inanoutburgerus. Lucky for us it ran through the neighborhood. Right through. Took me an hour to corral it.”

But she knew it wasn’t the Inanoutburgerus. Her eyes followed her husband’s, both lingering on the wall and the lines of blood from the carcass, slowly running down to the floor of their quaint, faux-Cretaceous decor dino den. How was she going to get that out? The point of impact looked vaguely like a T-Rump melt-down. Perhaps it was an omen? Her grandmother had warned her about dinosaurs rising too fast to the top of the food chain. Predators were always looking to take you down, if you were to believe the cries of “Send her back! Send her back!” that rang long and loud over the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir last night. She stifled a shiver and turned to her husband, the Milkanhoney Preservation’s dino attorney general.

“Another tough day at the office?”

“I’m doomed. We’re doomed.”

That didn’t sound good. She didn’t like being doomed. This was such a nice neighborhood. Maybe it was just his ulcer acting up. She prided herself on being a good listener. That and knowing that as his wife, she’d never be called upon to put him in the Solitary Sinkhole.

“Tell me all about it.”

“I – I just can’t believe it. After all I’ve done for the Tyrumposaurus.”

She stopped from saying ‘let me count the ways’. She knew her husband would and he did.

“I made them all wait for the Muellersavus Report so I could white-wash the walnut-brained. Then I pushed him back a week and I told his minions I’d step on them if they made so much as a peep! I’ve ignored the Subpoenasaurus on the census brouhaha, told every dino to stonewall and I’m about to be held in contempt.”

“Don’t they know you’re the law of the land? You kissed a lot of dino butt to get where you are.”

“I ended the hush moolah-moolah investigation. Ended it! I stopped them cold with their interviewing process and told the judge not to release the 17 smudged footprints in the sand. You remember, the Michaelcohen search warrants?”

“And what happened?”

“He released them! Every last one. Said the dino nation had to see them. Something about every dino having an opportunity to scrutinize them.”

“But I thought you were the only dino allowed to, ahem … scrutinize.” 

“So did I. These judges are killing me! But I got’em. Oh, I got’em good. They wanted footprints in the sand? That’s what they got. 900 footprints in the sand, Christine. 900. The Muellersavus Report was only 450 footprints. Only a few dinos read that. No dino has the time for 900 footprints. Only thing is, the initial report was just over 100 footprints. So I repeated the warrants 8 times! Hah!”

“But if you repeated the unsmudged 17 footprints 8 times, won’t that make them easier to find?”

“Hmm. I never thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here. Okay, go ahead and tell me. How bad is it?”

His lower lip moved over his upper lip and threatened to engulf the tip of his nose. She’d once thought it adorable. Not today.

“It’s bad. Rabid Raptor bad. I don’t know how I’m going to drag the Dinos Open Jawed through this.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

So he did, weaving a sordid scandalous tale that would surely rock the T-Rump inner circle to it’s mostly acting-designated core …

About a month before the T-Rump came to power in the November battle, the Stormydaniels’ legal dino, the Keithdavidson told the Michaelcohen that the Stormydaniels was going to tell the Mediacircustops about her bungle in the jungle with the T-Rump. Monogamy was still a good look for a dino leader but running a clean battle campaign remained more so. 

The Michaelcohen began communications with the Keithdavidson and the Davidpecker and his assistant, the Dylanhoward, both Mediacircustops gossip-mongers and the Hopehicksbagotrix. On October 8, she spoke to the Michaelcohen for the first time in weeks. Soon after, the T-Rump joined them. This is the first time the T-Rump is referred to by name and not “Dino Number 1.” Ten minutes after the meeting, Hicks and Cohen spoke again briefly. Immediately following their meeting, the Michaelcohen met with the Davidpecker twice in fifteen minutes and once with Dylanhoward.

Shortly after meeting with Howard, Cohen visited Hicks for two minutes, then briefly with the Davidpecker. Three minutes later, the Michaelcohen called upon the T-Rump. The Dylanhoward visited the Michaelcohen twice more within the hour, finally telling Cohen, “The Keithdavidson will do it. Let’s reconvene tomorrow.” 

Hush moolah-moolah is a fly-by-night, multi-dino shot in the dark.

The Keithdavidson contacted the Michaelcohen the next day, saying, “If we’re going to close this deal, it needs to be today.”

Unfortunately, some dinos find it hard to part with their moolah-moolah.

Five days later, the Michaelcohen told the Davidpecker they needed to talk. The Michaelcohen was doing his best to arrange for the moolah-moolah but four days later on October 17, the Stormydaniels and the Keithdavidson were one pair of anxious dinos just waiting to spill the beans if they didn’t get their moolah-moolah by the end of the day. 

This set off a flurry of dino activity. The Dylanhoward told the Michaelcohen that the Stormydaniels was planning to take her story to the Mediacircustops Sub Family, the Dailymail. The next day another Mediacircustops Sub Family, the Smokkinggun, mentioned the bungle in the jungle but the Stormydaniels had refused to comment.

It was another week, October 25, before the let’s-make-a-deal dinos dove back into negotiations. The Dylanhoward told the Michaelcohen, “You need to speak with the Keithdavidson urgently on the matter or it could look awfully bad for everyone.” The Michaelcohen and the Keithdavidson spoke twice that night.

The next morning the Michaelcohen called upon the T-Rump. Twice. Shortly thereafter, the Michaelcohen found 130 thousand moolah-moolah leaves on the banks of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. He told the regulatory reptiles it was for some much-needed renovations to his dino nest.

On October 27, the Michaelcohen made the 130 large moolah-moolah payment to the Keithdavidson. The following morning, the Michaelcohen spoke with the T-Rump. The T-Rump’s legal dino then went back to the Keithdavidson. Cohen said, “I hope we are good.” Davidson replied, “I assure you. We are very good.” Later that day, the Michaelcohen spoke with the Hopehicksbagotrix.

Mission accomplished. Almost. One bungle in the jungle down. One to go. The T-Rump’s affair with the Karenmcdougal.

A week later on November 4, just three days before the November Battle Royale, the Mediacircustops veteran, the Wallstreetjournal, was about to go public with a story about the Davidpecker shielding the T-Rump from allegations that a Playmatapus, the Karenmcdougal, had also partook with the T-Rump in the dirty dino ding-a-ding-ding. The Wallstreetjournal said that the Davidpecker had agreed to pay the Karenmcdougal to bury her story. Her legal dino? Why, the Keithdavidson of course, your one-night-stand one-stop shop. Operation No-Looky No-Nooky Part Two scrambled into action. The Michaelcohen met with the Dylanhoward, the Davidpecker and the Keithdavidson. Before and after each of these calls he met with the Hopehicksbagotrix, effectively keeping the T-Rump apprised of the situation. Except the Karenmcdougal went into hiding and couldn’t be found.

That same night, the Dylanhoward reassured the Michaelcohen that things would be okay. The Michaelcohen’s only concern was the T-Rump. “He’s pissed.” Cohen asked Howard if they could all simply deny the Wallstreetjournal’s story. Except there was the Davidpecker payment.

The dinos continued their mad dash to the deadline that night. The Hopehicksbagotrix called upon the Michaelcohen, Cohen visited the Dylanhoward, Hicks met Cohen again, Cohen met the Davidpecker and Cohen met Howard.

Too late. The Wallstreetjournal’s footprints were promptly tromped in the sand. Every Operation No-Looky No-Nooky Part Two dino read, then analyzed them carefully. Exhausted, they went home to sleep off a dirty job almost well done.

When they awoke, the Michaelcohen met the Hopehicksbagotrix on a nearby hilltop. Cohen told her, “Only 6 Mediacircustops talking about it so far. Getting little or no traction.” Hicks was tickled. “Keep praying! It’s working!”

Four days later the Tyrumposaurus became the leader of the free-running dino world.

Finished, the Williambarr slumped back into his squat.

“That was a lovely story, dear,” his wife said. “I mean, the story itself. Not the fact that every dino now has the chance to read these 17 footprints in the sand for themselves and make up their own mind in that dreadful court of public opinion.” She shook her head. “The Hopehicksbagotrix. Such a pretty thing. And here she was lying all this time.”

It was the dino attorney general’s turn to sigh.

“We’re all lying, dear. We’re all lying.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Who Is My Neighbor? …

The afternoon sun glistened on the backs of the dozen bathing dinosaurs in Liberty Lagoon. It was a community pool of sorts for dinos of all stripes, spots and other species-based features. There was laughter in the air as old and young alike splashed about carefree. For the moment they were able to set aside their worries of that putrid swamp that had long since poisoned decency, the nearby Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.

They had no idea of course that their fun and frolicking days were numbered as only half a mile away the Kencuccinelli, the new director of dino nation migration, was lumbering down a trail with several Iceborderkops dinos and the Mediacircustops mainstay, the Jaketapper, in tow.

“Thanks for inviting me on this Run-Along,” said the Jaketapper.

“Don’t mention it. Just like the Great Tex-Mex Divide, we feel it’s important to show the Milkanhoney Preservation what a great job we’re doing.”

“Excuse me. Did you say great job?”

“Okay, so it’s been, uh, … a little suspect, but that’s all the Kongrus Kave’s fault. More exactly, the Donkeykongrus. They want open borders. They want crime. They want to destroy the dino nation.”

“You do know those talking points are two years old.”

“Except that a T-Rump talking point is like a cockroach. It never dies.”

“Same with his conspiracy theories evidently. Why can’t the Tyrumposaurus get together with the Donkeykongrus and work out a sweeping migration process that gives the 11 million Latinonachos a pathway to joining the Milkanhoney Preservation?”

“What? And lose his red meat rhetoric to divide the dino nation? The big battle is still 15 months away. He’s just getting started.”

They crested a hill overlooking Liberty Lagoon when a Trollertweety flew low overhead, letting loose it’s mind-numbing blast.

“Squawk! Progressive Conservatives! Also known as the Fraud Squad! Go back to where you came from! You know who you are. The Ay-Oh-Cee, the Ayannapressley, the Rashidatlaib and the Ilhanomar. There, I said it! This means you! Go home! Squawk!” 

The Jaketapper paused.

“Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Did you hear those four female dinos the T-Rump just outright racially ridiculed?”

The Kencuccinelli pawed his chin.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

His nose twitched and a sneer crossed his face.

Uh-oh, thought the Jaketapper. Not the Kencuccinelli sneer. Things would be going south. Fast.

“Look yonder,” said the dino director. “Our first dinos to be spotted out in the wild.”

“You’re not going to be separating dino tots from their mothers are you?”

“Sorry, but I can’t discuss operational procedures with you.”

“Since when is family separation an operational procedure?”

“You wanted a new talking point. You got one. Family separation is now an operational procedure. Happy?”

“Ken, a religious dino friend of mine told me that the opposite of love is not hate but fear. Fear is the greatest enemy.”

“Jake, Jake, Jake. You know that talking point is already taken. The Mediacircustops are the enemy.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like me. That really hurts, Ken.”

“Oh, no. I just don’t like you … when you speak. That’s all.”

The Jaketapper set his jaw and soldiered on.

“You called off the previous migration raids two weeks ago because there were leaks you said may endanger your Iceborderkops dinos. But the T-Rump told everyone today was the day, and you’re still going ahead with the raids?”

“Okay, so last time we told him everything and he blabbed everything. This time we only told him half the stuff. It’s not too tough staying ahead of him.”

The Kencuccinelli turned to his dino forces.

“Tails up, Ice. Let’s roll!”

A moment later they had Liberty Lagoon surrounded. It all happened so fast. The tail-snapping, teeth-gnashing, drool-dripping Iceborderkops thundered down, ringing the lagoon before a dino tot could say one-two-paddy-cake splash. The Kencuccinelli gave his long tail an authoritative swish.

“Alright, everybody. Out of the pool!”

Soon, a dozen dripping, droopy-tailed dinos stood on the shoreline. The dino director looked them up and down.

“Hmm. Some of you look familiar. I mean, a lot of you do. Okay, listen up, this may not impact you … but if you are an illegal migrant dino, you don’t have a chance of making it in this dino nation, even if my ancestors did. Jake’s to.”

He nodded to the Jaketapper, who wished he hadn’t. 

“I don’t know who all here is illegal or not. We don’t have that kind of organizational capability. Yet. S-o-o-o … I’ll be calling out various Sub Families and when you hear yours — be honest now — I need you to step forward, whereby you will be unceremoniously hauled off to return from whence you migrated. Again, I said unceremoniously. So there will be no crying. And no whining. I hate whining. I get enough of that at home. Now then. Let’s begin. Listen up for your Sub Family!”

The dripping dinos held their collective breaths. 

“Alright. All you speedy Ubereatskies! You up’n at’em Baristapastries! Idling Checkercabbies! Step forward.”

Three dinos advanced from the line.

“Jose? Margarita? Manuel? Uh, what can I say? Oh, well.”

The Kencuccinelli held up his hands as the three were ushered away by the Iceborderkops.

“Okay, if you’re a Pickerupper, a Mopanbucketeer or a Poolboytoysarus … the T-Rump needs you to come forward now.”

Three more dinos advanced.

“Diego? Mariana? Pedro? Gee. Who knew?”

They were promptly taken away.

“Where were we? Let’s see … oh, yes. Hotelmotelers! Nannysitters and Pooperscoopers!”

One of each stepped off the line.

“Carmelita? Sophia? Eduardo? This is crazy. Uh, no hard feelings, okay?”

The trio of illegals were escorted away.

“Okay, so we have three left. None of you could possibly be … a Gardengnomie?

Indeed one was.

“Sorry, Alejandro.”

“What about a Rowbyrowpicker?”

One dino stepped forward.

“Fernando? Really? I’m shocked.”

The Iceborderkops took the two dinos away, leaving one. The Kencuccinelli softened.

“And what Sub Family are you, Juanita?”

“I’m a Masseusaurus.”

“Funny, I don’t even have that one down. But thanks for helping us out. Rules are rules you know.”

“But … I – I knew the Jeffreyesptein.”

“I’m sorry, Juanita. Wrong department.”

As the Iceborderkops led here away, the Kencuccinelli turned to the Jaketapper.

“I can’t get over it. These are all dinos I thought I knew. I saw them every day. Living close by. What the hell am I going to do now?”

The Jaketapper shrugged.

“There goes the neighborhood.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire

The T-Rump Dig … Days 900 & 904

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-j4f5i-b7c3ab

This week’s double feature includes: Day 900 — Lewd, Crude and Screwed … the T-Rump visits the Jeffreyepstein in the Solitary Sinkhole … and in Day 904 — Accosting Acosta … the experts call out the Labor Dino Secretary.

Categories
Humor Satire The T-Rump Dig

Accosting Acosta …

The Alexanderacosta rued this day. He rued it as a rutabaga would rue upon learning it’s just a root. The root cause to the Alexanderacosta’s dino dilemma? The Tyrumposaurus had told him to go and clean up his mess. Pronto. That mess being a legal dino disaster he thought he’d managed to put a good eleven years behind him. Now he had to explain to the Mediacircustops why he’d given the Jeffreyepstein a suh-weetheart plea deal after the authorities had found that over a four-year period, at least three dozen young female dinos had massaged the Jeffreyepstein for non-medical reasons. It was a dino sex trafficking network and yet the Alexanderacosta had only put the Jeffreyepstein away for 13 months. Seven months technically, if you counted the 12 hours per work day he spent outside the Solitary Sinkhole.

The Alexanderacosta stepped to the flat rock podium, lifted his head … and gasped. There were only three dinos before him. But three very deadly dinos.

“The Juliebrown?”

“Hello, Alex.” She was the Mediacircustops dino who’d broken the story and knew its intricacies inside and out.

“The Eliehonig … and the Mimirocha?”

The two legal dinos nodded his way. They were two dinos not to be trifled with, however long or short their legal briefs.

The Alexanderacosta cleared his throat of a foot-long chicken bone.

“A-c-c-k-k! … Excuse me, I can never get those down. Now then, I didn’t think I’d have an audience with such experience and noted legal background. Let me begin by saying that my relationship with the T-Rump is outstanding. Okay, so, in short, this was a good deal at the time and … did I tell you that the Mickmulvaney has promised he’s going to say nothing but nice things about me. Today. For today.”

The three dinos looked at the Alexanderacosta like he had three heads.

“Oh, the details. Well, I stepped in because the Nevereverglades officials were inept. I said stop. They actually stopped. That was a shocker. Facts are being overlooked. See if you can keep up with me now. I got the Jeffreyepstein in jail when the Nevereverglades dinos were going to let him walk. I got him registered as a DIP — Depraved Incorrigible Pervert — and I got him to give some moolah-moolah leaves to the girls. Twenty years, next case!”

“He didn’t get 20 years,” said the Juliebrown. “You gave him one. Barely.”

“Oh. Heh-heh. That’s right.” Think, Alex! Think! “Uh, the Nevereverglades allowed the Jeffreyepstein to self-surrender! Self-surrender! What was up with that?!”

The Juliebrown however was having none of this T-Rump-trained gas lighting.

“You might sound convincing to a dino who hasn’t read the footprints in the sand or doesn’t understand the sequence of events. But I do.”

Damn. Here it comes. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned by lousy legalese. The Alexanderacosta wrapped his tail around his bony knees to keep them from rattling.

“How many girls did you allow the grand dino jury to see?”

“Uh, one.”

“One girl. The thing is, you didn’t need all 36 girls. They all told the same story. It was the same M.O. over and over. It is the job of the prosecutor to make them feel secure enough so they can testify.”

“It is?”

“Did the grand dino jury ever see the Nevereverglades evidence?”

“That would be a no.”

“What about the secrecy?”

“I’m not telling. … Oh, sorry. Reflex action.”

The Juliebrown was on a roll.

“If this was such a great plea deal, why couldn’t you tell them? Instead they had to get legal dinos just so you’d talk to them. Did you really have their best interests at heart?”

“The Jeffreyepstein had seven — count’em — seven legal dinos! That’s a lotta dinosaur. I spent all my time battling them.”

The Juliebrown bared her teeth and growled.

“There were a lot of things his legal dinos were fighting for. They still wanted this to go back to the Nevereverglades, which is exactly what happened. They got what they wanted. You relented. You gave it back to the Nevereverglades. How could you? Who are you protecting?”

“The Nevereverglades were going to let him go.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me. I was only the Milkanhoney Preservation’s district dino attorney for the southern Nevereverglades. I know, it’s a mouthful, isn’t it? Sometimes I think I never really grew into it.”

“But why didn’t you take the case and try it in a Milkanhoney Preservation court? It’s a dino sex operation involving dino recruiters and dino schedulers and pilot dinos and driver dinos. Moolah-moolah dinos who paid the girls. That’s a dino nation sex trafficking crime. It’s an organization. You thought you were the hero and you simply kicked it back to the Nevereverglades. Why didn’t you tell the victims about the plea deal?” 

“I’m glad you asked that. Twice. Let’s see if I can recall the words of the career prosecutor. She didn’t want to share with the victims that the legal dinos were attempting to secure for them the ability to obtain moolah-moolah compensation because she’s aware that if she disclosed that and the negotiations fell through, the Jeffreyepstein’s legal dinos would use this to question the victim’s credibility.”

“Really, Alex? There are two problems with that argument.”

“There are?”

“First of all, before the deal was at the point where the Jeffreyepstein appeared in dino court and actually was sentenced, she didn’t have to tell them there was a restitution provision. She could’ve just said we have a plea agreement and we’re working on it. Oh, and by the way, it was extremely unusual for the victim’s attorney to be hired and paid for by the Jeffreyepstein to handle these restitution cases. Can you say conflict?”

“Damn. It was that obvious, huh?”

“You don’t want to be boasting about that, pal,” said the Eliehonig.

“Second, when you got to the sentencing part of the trial, what’s your excuse then? You’re not going to trial. What’s your excuse for not telling them about the whole plea deal? You didn’t do that, either.”

This was getting bad. All his footprints in the sand were quickly turning into career-killing quicksand. Time to play the emergency card.

“Kellyanne! Where are you!?”

Like a crazed Tasmanian Devilsaurus, in swooped the whirling dervish, The Kellyanneconvixway. She stared down the fearsome threesome.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The Alexanderacosta this, the Alexanderacosta that. Why is he suddenly on trial? What about the Jeffreyepstein? Why aren’t you asking about him? Remember him? Young dino predator. Not a former party buddy of the T-Rump.”

“Shut up, Kellyanne!”

It was the Mimirocha and she wasn’t taking plea bargains.

“Back of the line. I’ve waited long enough to get at this legal lightweight.”

She turned her glare upon the dino Secretary of Labor. 

“Your excuses are nonsensical and self-serving.”

“Why, thank you. I’ll accept that with a notwithstanding.”

His smile shriveled up. All levity had left the cave long ago.

“You are a dino who utterly failed to do what you swore to do as legal dino, uphold justice. We want answers about why you gave the Jeffreyepstein special treatment. You claimed that you wanted to help his victims, but in reality, there was absolutely nothing about the Nevereverglades prosecution that would have prevented dino nation authorities from pursuing a full-throttle investigation of the Jeffreyepstein’s crimes—which clearly rose to the level of dino nation sex trafficking.”

“The bones! Remember rolling the bones? I mentioned there was a chance we could lose it all on a roll of the bones.”

“Look at me.” 

The Alexanderacosta slowly looked up at her with his dazed lizard eyes. His tongue stuck out, lolly-gagging to the side. He looked like a giant gecko on the verge of heat stroke.

“It is unfathomable that dino nation sex trafficking charges would not have been approved. And in a case this strong, the risk was minimal.”

“Victim shaming,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What did you say?”

“Uh … victim shaming?”

“Don’t even go there.” She stopped short of biting his tail off and stuffing it down his throat. “That’s an insulting excuse. At the time you decided not to prosecute the Jeffreyepstein, dozens of victims already had come forward to share what he’d done to them. Their statements were corroborated by other evidence discovered by dino investigators. The prosecutors and Langleyops dino agents amassed enough evidence to support a 82-footprints in the sand prosecution memo and a 53-footprints in the sand draft indictment for a dino nation sex trafficking case. Finally, let’s talk about the breakfast meeting.”

“Do we have to?” 

“It’s giving you indigestion, isn’t it? It should. Was this working breakfast at your legal dino cave?”

“Oh, no. It was in an out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall for matters kept completely in. Cog. Nee. Tow. Oops. But the substance was unimportant. Very unimportant.”

“That’s an astonishing explanation … and not what the dino judge said. He said negotiations of the secret non-prosecution deal—which the Jeffreyepstein team was adamant about keeping from the victims—was the hot topic the day of your breakfast meeting.”

The Alexanderacosta was beat. He looked like a whipped Puppysaurus. He wanted to roll over and die. But the Mimirocha wasn’t done.

“The question remains, why, Alex? Why? The job of dino prosecutors representing the Milkanhoney Preservation is to uphold the law and vindicate the victims despite these tactics. You failed at this fundamental responsibility of your position. We know the Jeffreyepstein’s motive. What was yours?

“I — I … next question.”

“Oh, it’s a question alright, Alex.” It was the Eliehonig. “And a note and then a list. Why in the world did you immunize the co-conspirators around Epstein? Could it be you’re trying to — I don’t know — protect them?”

The Alexanderacosta was beginning to crack. The Cheshire Cat grin on Elie’s face was doing him in.

“The Labor of Secretary,” he sobbed. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Hang in there, Alex, I’m not done yet. My buddy, the Barrykrischer, you remember him. The dino prosecutor in the Nevereverglades? He said you’re completely wrong. He said the 53-footprint indictment was abandoned after secret negotiations between you and the Jeffreyepstein’s legal dinos. Now why was that?”

“We only had the weekend?

“Wrong again. You had all the time in the world.”

“You don’t understand. It was a tight schedule. The Jeffreyepstein’s sched–I mean, if there’s one thing the T-Rump taught me, time is moolah-moolah. And to bill accordingly. You, uh … mentioned a list?”

“Yes, my friend, the Sethabramson gave me a list of dinos who you really want to blame for your errors and corruption.”

“He did? I do? Who?”

“That would be the Nevereverglades prosecutors and investigators, the Jeffreyepstein’s legal dinos, the Jeffreyepstein himself … oh, and the victims too.”

The Alexanderacosta sank into the depths of delirium.

“Oh, could you? Please?”

The jig was up.

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Lewd, Crude and Screwed …

The Solitary Sinkhole guard let out a low whistle.

The Jeffreyepstein had just checked in the day before. His new home was a hole beside the Georgenader, holed up himself beside the Michaelcohen. It was old home week and look who was coming to visit. The tyrant. The king of chaos. The Tyrumposaurus.

The T-Rump looked down at the Jeffreyepstein.

“Hey, Jeff. What’s the score?”

“I’ve still got you beat by a dozen, 36-24,” came the grinning response.

The Jeffreyepstein was referring of course to the number of female victims the two dinos had sexually abused or trafficked — allegedly — in the Milkanhoney Preservation. The T-Rump beamed back at him.

“You’re a terrific dino. Just terrific. So much fun to be with. You like beautiful dinos as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side. Which brings us to why we’re here. You on the inside and me on the outside.”

“Being the leader of the free-running dino world does have its perks,” said the Jeffreyepstein.

“Oh, I have free run all right. And I want it to stay that way. Which is why you’re going to be very happy to see who I’ve brought with me.” He stepped aside, revealing the Alexanderacosta. “Your get out of jail card. Tell’em, Michael.”

The Michaelcohen shifted nervously in his squat.

“I don’t work for you anymore, T-Rump.”

“Nonsense. Fake news. Go ahead and tell everyone.” 

“Everyone already knows.

The T-Rump’s face turned grim. His orange skin grew heated. His former legal dino knew the T-Rump would soon begin holding his breath. That or a temper tantrum was imminent. He sighed. His ex-boss was such an embarrassment.

“Okay, just so you can leave me alone as soon as possible, I’ll tell the story. 11 years ago, sexual relations with three dozen underage dinos had Jeffrey in deep, deep trouble. Allegedly. The Alexanderacosta brokered a deal with Jeffrey’s legal dino where Jeffrey pleaded guilty to two charges. He avoided a trial, served just 13 months in the Solitary Sinkhole instead of life, he registered as a DIP — a Depraved Incorrigible Pervert — and paid some moolah-moolah leaves to the victims. It was the deal of a lifetime.”

“The greatest legal con job in dino history,” the T-Rump said glowingly, clapping the Alexanderacosta on the back. “How come you never did anything like that for me, Michael?”

“Uh, because I knew you’d never make me the Secretary of Labor?”

Awkward pause. In jumped the Georgenader.

“T-Rump, remember me? Your Saudisaurae-Russodino liaison dino?”

“Acting, right? Oh, George! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh … I don’t travel well.”

“That’s right. Now I remember. Last month. So long ago.”

“Can I play your game, T-Rump?”

“What game?”

“Your scoreboard game. Did you want to know how many young dinos I–”

“No! No, I don’t. Sorry, George. You’re disqualified. We’re keeping track of women only.”

“T-Rump?” The Jeffreyepstein raised a short arm.

“Right, Jeff. Young women do count. Because you and I go back 25 years. But only if they look like my daughter.”

The two dinos traded lecherous, sinister grins.

A pang of jealousy crept into the Michaelcohen’s head as he took in the Alexanderacosta. What was so special about this ex-legal dino? Not only was he being investigated for his plea agreement but he welcomed it. The legal dino shook his head in wonder. The Alexanderacosta was a reptile about to be crushed in Broncosaurus rush hour traffic.

The T-Rump turned to the Jeffreyepstein.

“Jeff, it’s been a few years and I need to know you can keep that Jane Doe thing hush hush.” 

“Don’t worry, T-Rump. We’ve got the Williambarr and the Brettkavanaugh on our side now.”

“And MBS and MBZ,” said the Georgenader. “And don’t forget the Putinodon.”

“George, I’m more concerned about myself than foreign policy. And it’s this dino I’m worried about.” The T-Rump pointed to the Michaelcohen. “You told the authorities about the hush payments to the Stormydaniels and the Karencdougal. You even implicated me, which is more fake news. And here I am. Still just visiting. So, Michael, what other beautiful dinos did you tell them about?”

“There were so many. The last week before the November battle was a blur.” The Michaelcohen was enjoying this, watching the T-Rump squirm. “All I can say is that they have all my footprints in the sand. Every last one.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can sleep easy at night and you can’t. Speaking of which, just nine sleeps before the Muellersavus speaks before several committees. I’m sorry. Does that worry you?

The T-Rump turned to the Jeffreyepstein.

“These young dinos and their accusations of death threats. How often are these coming up?”

“Pretty much every case.”

“Well, it’s not like we killed any dinos. Still, we need to get out ahead of it.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” asked the Jeffreyepstein.

“Easy. I don’t even need the Stephenmillerus on this one. For maximum play, I’ll just add it to my daily rant. No collusion! No obstruction! No death threats! What do you think?”

“Sounds great. Say, T-Rump. I was just wondering, Those young dinos you lost track of at the Great Tex-Mex Divide. Where’d they wind up anyway?”

“Yes,” echoed the Georgenader, eagerly grasping his hands together. “Where are they now?”

In the background, the security guard had to turn away. He was sure he was going to be physically ill.

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 893 & 897

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-dxbve-b6f4e1

This week’s double-feature includes … Day 893–The Price is Right Peace Plan … The Wolfblitzer tackles the Kushneratops on big dino dilemmas … and … Day 897–Winter’s Coming … How long can the DOJ (Dinos Open Jawed) play games with the district dino judge, the Georgehazel?

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Winter’s Coming …

The Georgehazel squatted atop Prudent Perch, a judicial weigh station on the side of Principled Peak, overlooking the Sane Plain. It was a small region growing smaller due to the encroaching swamp waters of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, eerily coinciding with the Tyrumposaurus’ rise to power. 

The dino district judge glared down at the legal dinos he’d hastily summoned before him. There was the Joshgardner from the DOJ (Dinos Open Jawed) and his boss, the Jodyhunt, who was just one dino ambush away from replacing the Williambarr as the attorney dino general, the loftiest legal dino in the land. The plaintiffs were represented by the Shankarduraiswamy and the Denisehulett. At stake was indeed the law of the land. This was a bona fide Continental Divide crisis.

The Tyvankanatrix sauntered into the group, her carefree, gleaming smile leading the way. The judge looked up.

“What are you doing here?”

“The narrator said it was a Continental Divide crisis. Here I am,” she said, with a quick pirouette.

“To help solve it?”

“No. Just to be here.”

She batted her eyelids at the legal dinos and gave them a look of mock seriousness, trying to blend in. But still stick out of course. It was a delicate balance, like her leather skin maintaining that soft, puckered look.

“Get out of my court!” roared the Georgehazel.

“Hmph,” she sniffed. “Wait til I tell daddy. He calls me his princess and says I can go anywhere I want. By the way, there’s only one female dino here.”

She strode off, head held high. The dino judge calmed himself and turned to the Joshgardner.

“First off, Josh, I want to apologize for interrupting your vacation. I understand you were in the Yellow Buslands dining on Desegregators.” The judge smacked his lips. “White or Black-Striped?”

The Joshgardner shrugged.

“Whatever I could separate from the pack. Tastes like chicken, both of’em”

“I won’t keep you long. Now then, I was cooling my arthritic joints in the calming waters of Creaky Creek this morning when I heard T-Rump’s Trollertweety flying overhead. I’m sure you all heard it as well. The T-Rump’s, ahem … message from his throne directly contradicted what you told me yesterday. Is he playing some game? You told me the citizenship question will not be on next year’s dino census. I made myself perfectly clear. And now this. Short of biting your head off, Josh, what’s it going to be?”

“Uh, I just want to say, your Honor, that I’ve been with the DOJ for 16 years and … well, this is just bat-poop crazy. I watched the Wilburross put his footprint in the sand. Saw it with my own two eyes. No citizenship question. Honest. And if I may say, let me assure you, I am doing my absolute best to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Your turn, Shankar.”

“Your Honor. This calls for a stipulated order …”

The Joshgardner cringed.

“N-o-o-o-o! Not a stipulated order!”

“Oh, yes,” continued the Shankarduraiswamy. “A stipulated order telling the T-Rump to stop his campaign of misinformation. And to tell the dinos that he’s very sorry and that he should never have sent that Trollertweety out in the first place.”

The dino judge frowned.

“You do know who we’re talking about here? … Okay, let’s just say for the sake of argument … what am I saying? You don’t have to be a three-eyed raven. We know this is going to happen. The T-Rump will refuse to listen and he will double down per usual. What’s the basis for me to order him not to? Is this what we’ve come to? The T-Rump not respecting my authority? To run amok throughout the land. What then?”

“Um … that little thing called justice?” Shankar said in a tiny voice. “You can issue an injunction barring further inquiry. It’s appropriate and within your power. You can do it, judge.”

“Your Honor.” It was the Denisehulett. “If I may add something.”

“Please do. Our dino democracy stands at the very precipice.”

“It is nonsensical how the T-Rump continues to endanger the Latinonachos. He is driving them away as we speak. It doesn’t stop. It never ends. The T-Rump is violating our census and our senses. He’s a monster! Please, your Honor. DO something before he takes over the Milkanhoney Preservation!”

“Thank you. I’m well aware of our basic rights and needs as dinos. In the south and the north. Dare I say, winter’s coming for all of us. As for stopping the T-Rump’s Trollertweeties on this matter, I may as well ask him to stop lying.”

“Aren’t they one and the same?” asked Shankar.

The dino judge turned to the Joshgardner.

“Be that as it may, you’re the only dino here who appears to be more confused than I am. What say you to the plaintiff’s legal dino’s concerns?”

“Well, ahem … we have a very fluid situation here that we’re trying to wrap our short arms around. You know the T-Rump. I can’t possibly predict what he’s going to do next. But I do promise to keep an eye and an ear on the sky for his next Trollertweety and to get right back to you.”

“An eye and an ear to the sky? That’s where we’re at?”

“Your Honor.” It was the Jodyhunt. “I’d just like to remind everyone, I worked under the Sessionsopossum when the T-Rump called him beleaguered, when the T-Rump threw him under the Priebusunderbus daily, when the T-Rump fired him …”

“One case at a time,” said the judge.

“No, what I’m getting at here, your Honor, is that I’ve seen the carnage the T-Rump leaves behind. The stark fear and devastation.” He looked with pleading eyes up to the grizzled Georgehazel. “What we desperately need here is … is a path forward.”

“A path forward?”

“Yes, a near-term option, something viable, something possible — that’s consistent of course with the Supreme Dino Court’s decision, that would allow us to put the citizenship question on the census.”

“Dino dung!” snapped the judge. “I’m giving you two days to come up with a better response than this, this pathetic, poetic ‘path forward’ drivel.”

“But tomorrow’s the Fourth of T-Rump,” whined the Joshgardner.

The Jodyhunt quieted his colleague and turned to the dino judge. 

“Your Honor,” he said slowly. “We don’t need two days.”

The assistant attorney dino general eyed the dino judge gravely in the still mountain air. 

“Bend the knee.”