Category: Political Satire

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bolton Bolts! …

“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-G-H!”

The Mickmulvaney raced out of the Oval Dwelling, short arms waving wildly in the air. He made a bee-line, heading for the Hills of Hopelessness.

“What’s eating him?” the Tyrumpsaurus asked the Stephaniegrisham.

“Well, you did have him tell the Wilburross to threaten the Bamahama weather dinos that they’d be fired if they didn’t lie about the hurricane to toe your line. Then he had to field more questions, or abuse as he calls it, from the Mediacircustops regarding the Militarisaurus spending 600 nights at your Turnberry T-Rump Dump. … Um, then you were going to invite the Talibanisaurae to the Camp Davidian the very day before the Massacre Memorial. And, oh yes, news just came out that you outed our highest dino spy inside the Putinodon’s inner sanctum two years ago when you had the Russodinos inside the Oval Dwelling.”

“Is that all?”

“It, uh … did all happen in a span of 48 hours.”

“Hmph. No dino should be that close to the Putinodon. Unless it’s me of course.”

“Is that my cue to send off a bromance message from you to the Putinodon through one of our dozens of clandestine Russodino links.”

“Would you?”

She nodded with a sweet smile.

“Tonight is also the night that the ten dinos vying for the Donkeykongrus leader are meeting in the Sam Houston Hills.”

“Right. Book me in at Baltimore Bedrock.”

“But, T-Rump. You just recently called it a rodent-infested mess. Hell too. You called it hell. Are you sure you want to go back so soon?”

“Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie.”

She hung her head in shame. She hated this job already. He was always picking on her. As if she was fifth in line for her job.

“Divide and conquer. Just like the Putinodon said. Unrest is best.”

He stopped, gnawed on a Cheezbuggabugga and puzzled.

“What is it, T-Rump?”

“The Mickmulvaney running off screaming like that. Some dinos may notice. The four crises he’s dealing with.”

“Poor Mick,” she said.

“Him? What about me? He’s stealing the attention of the Mediacircustops. We can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t. The Mickmulvaney is a vane, attention-grabbing, self-serving chief of staff.”

She blinked hopefully at the T-Rump.

“That’s better. I need to do something. Now. Is the Johnbolton still squatting in the corner muttering to himself?”

“Last time I checked.”

They both turned to look toward the far corner of the Oval Dwelling where the national security dino was indeed fervently gnawing on his knuckles.

“Bolton!”

“Huh?”

“You’re fired!”

“What? Um, could I at least say I resigned first … or make it look like we had one conversation in the past six months?”

“No. I’ll send out a Trollertweety in the morning that explains everything. If you leave now, I’ll spare you maximum embarrassment.”

The Johnbolton slowly trudged out of the cave.

“And no footprint in the sand deals!” the T-Rump hollered after him. “I’ll deny everything! You don’t want a nickname from me!”

The sour, denigrating words hung in the air.

“Are we filling the post?” asked the Stephaniegrisham, aware that on the surface, this was not an entirely stupid question.

“Do we have to?”

“I – I … think we should.”

“Okay. Which Foxsquawkbox is next in line?”

“I think our remaining dinos there are deaf, dumb or mute.”

“Never heard of them. You know that won’t do.”

“I could bring you half a dozen Grandoldparty dinos but I know you wouldn’t like them because …”

“Don’t tell me. The Mediacircustops doesn’t know’em so I won’t know’em. You know I hate that. Give me brash, bold and name-calling every time.”

He looked for her to add something to the conversation.

“And, um … pompous?”

“That’s it! Get him in here!”

“Who?”

“Who?! You just told me, dammit! Get a grip, girl. You know how many of the greatest dinos I know are waiting to replace you?”

She stifled back a tear and edged toward the entrance. Halfway there she finally made the connection. Ten minutes later the Mikepompeo was in the Oval Dwelling with them.

“Mike,” said the T-Rump. “I fired the Johnbolton.”

“Hah!”

The dino secretary of state punched the air in glee.

“Easy, let’s not have the Mediacircustops think we’re celebrating. Then we’d have to answer as to why we ever got him in the first place.”

The Mikepompeo tempered his emotions somewhat, still unable to hide his goofy grin.

“Mike, I want you to take on the national security dino job. That’s two jobs for you. Same pay. One less dinos in the mix to muddy my mind. Because I’m calling the shots here. I know more than all the Intel dinos. Every last one. So, just to confirm, you’ll be ‘acting.’ You know I need to have that abuse of power. I mean, ahem … flexibility.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

I Have Esteem …

“C’mere, son. Pull up a rock.”

The Tyrumposaurus watched as his son, the T-Rump Jr. looked around the Oval Dwelling. All the available squatting rocks were either too small or too large to push around.

“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “That’s right. All the rocks are getting washed this week. You’ll have to squat on the floor.”

The T-Rump Jr. parked his rump before his father.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“Today? No. This is my executive time. And a large part of that time I spend gloating of course. Which brings me to my point. Now you know I’ve taught you everything you know.”

“But not everything you know, dad.”

“Right again. Greed, son. It’s all about the moolah-moolah leaves. He who has the most moolah-moolah leaves sleeps the fittest at night. With or without the Tymelania. That’s why I want the Gee-Seven-Showed-Up to come to the Doral Gnats’n All.”

“To stay with the Tymelania?”

“No. Well … hmm. No. But back to greed. That’s why I had the Mincepencenow stay at Doonbeg.”

“And that’s why you had all the Militarisaurus staying at Turnberry.”

“629 times, son. 629 times to the tune of 11 million moolah-moolah leaves over the past two years. That’s how you keep a failing T-Rump dump from going under into weeds, rotting carcasses and unkempt dino squatters.”

There was a tail lash against the outside wall.

“Come in if you have moolah-moolah,” said the T-Rump, smiling smugly to his son. Another teaching moment not wasted. 

Both dinos were caught off-guard however by their visitor. The Elijahcummings, he of the Kongrus Kave, chair dino on the committee of Hairy Eyeball Scrutiny and Scrap If Need Be.

The T-Rump bristled.

“What do you want, Cummings?”

“I’m happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest punishment for absolute abuse of power by the highest dino in the history of our nation.”

“Uh, come again?”

“Two years ago, you took an oath of the Continental Footprint to lead. Your momentous decree has unfortunately gone belly-up and now my committee and I are the great beacon light of hope to millions of dinosaurs who have been left to grovel in the shadows of your incredible greed and corruption.”

“I promise you that that Continental Footprint you so muddied up guarantees that all dinos have the rights to life, liberty and a leader who’s supposed to lead. It’s obvious you have defaulted big-time on this virtue. I’m here to remind the Milkanhoney Preservation and the Nancypelosi that there is the fierce urgency of now.”

“Excuse me,” said the T-Rump. “You mean delay, stonewall and drag my feet.”

The Elijahcummings ignored him.

“This is no time to engage in the tranquilizing drug of your fake news. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of monstrous malfeasance to the sunlit path of simply doing the right thing. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in dino nation until you are soundly impeached. The whirlwinds of your shady moolah-moolah leaves will continue to chill the souls of dinos everywhere until the bright day of your exodus from the Oval Dwelling.”

“Don’t worry, son. It’s just a scare tactic. They got nothin’.”

The Elijahcummings cast an accusing claw at him.

“You are indeed guilty of wrongful deeds. Sinfully wrong! You’ve been drinking from the deep end of the lagoon, deep in bitterness and hatred. The dinos I represent conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We can’t allow ourselves to degenerate into the crass, foul language and racist, misogynist behavior you’ve thrust upon us. But that disgust is for another day.”

“We must rise to the majestic heights of fair play and dare I say, common sense. We must not be led to distrust as evidenced by your confounding presence in the Oval Dwelling everyday. Our destiny is not tied to your infamy. Oh no, your infamy is destined for the Solitary Sinkhole, just as sure as your son can’t find a rock to squat on. Your family will be squatting alone.”

“We can never be satisfied as long as the dino is the victim of the unconscionable horrors of your profound profiteering. We can never be satisfied as long as dinos heavy with the fatigue of travel are lining your nest with their moolah-moolah leaves as they come calling at Doral Gnats’n All … or lay their heads down at Doonbeg … or turn in at Turnberry. We can never be satisfied as long as you shock our senses and rob our dignity by having official moolah-moolah leaves earmarked “For T-Rump Only.” No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down your orange back like a volcano’s molten lava.”

“Can you do that?” asked the T-Rump Jr.

“We have a fresh, narrow Solitary Sinkhole waiting for you because we’ve been staggered by your bribery and fraud. So, I’m terribly sorry, but you can’t go back to Doral Gnats’n All. You can’t go back to Doonbeg. You can’t go back to Turnberry. Not gonna happen. Unh-unh. But feel free to wallow in the deep Valley of Despair. Amen.”

“He’s done, right?” said the T-Rump Jr., turning to his father. A frown from the T-Rump said otherwise. The dino with the hairy eyeball continued.

“I say to you today. I still have esteem. For the law. I have esteem that one day this dino nation will rise up and roar loudly with the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident: That even the Grandoldparty has half a brain.”

“I have esteem that we will soon have all the information we need to find out where you got all your illegal moolah-moolah from. I have esteem that your five children will one day live in a dino nation where they will not be judged by the blindness of your greed but by the content of their character. Following years of therapy of course.”

“I have esteem that all your crooked cons will be made straight and that the glory of the law will be revealed and that all the dinos shall see it together. I have esteem that one day you’ll be able to squat with all the other dinos. In the Solitary Sinkhole.”

“This is our hope. Our faith that we’ll be able to hew out from your rocky mountain of recklessness a stone of justice. To transform the jangling discords of your deception on our senses into the soothing refrains of truth.”

“And if the Milkanhoney Preservation is to be a great dino nation this must become true. So let freedom from grotesque grifting ring from the doglegs of Doral Gnats’n All. Let freedom from unethical behavior ring from the deep rough of Doonbeg. Let freedom from immoral greed ring from the sand traps of Turnberry.”

“And when this happens, when we allow these freedoms to ring, Donkeykongrus and Grandoldparty dinos will be able to join short hands and sing in the words of the old Gospelsaurus, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank Gawdalmighty, we are free — of YOU — at last!”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 956 & 960

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-vgkxj-be97c5

This week’s T-Rump Dig Podcast includes: Day 956 — Fu*ked Up … The Land of Longhorns deals with the Odessa Mesa massacre … and … Day 960 — Bamahama Sham-o-rama … The T-Rump just won’t let the weather go.

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bamahama Sham-o-rama …

“Be careful, T-Rump. Watch your step.”

The Stephaniegrisham carefully led the dino ruler through the ravaging flood waters of Charleston Landing. She’d most recently been the Mediacircustops dino for the Oval Dwelling until a devastating loss in a war of words with the Briankarem which had seen her demoted to lowly FILLER — First In Line Leaping Extreme Rivers, vis a vis today’s flood water tester.

The T-Rump frowned at the dino nation’s plight that had dragged him away from a fine day he could’ve spent flogging at Mar-a-Guano. 

“Where are we again?”

“Charleston Landing.”

“Excuse me. There were good dinos. On both sides.”

“No, T-Rump. That was the Charlottesville Divide.”

“Oh.”

He paused to look at the damage around them. Massive flooding had reduced dino caves, dens and sea-side shelters to muddy, mind-numbing misery. Dinos by the dozens staggered around, looking lost, haggard, trying to make sense of what had happened. The hurricane had come, clashed and conquered. So many had lost their homes. One elderly dino lay on his side nearby. He saw the T-Rump and raised a feeble short arm, begging for help. 

The T-Rump turned and pointed at the nearest Mediacircustops in tow.

“You there, I was right about Bamahama. Like I said, the great dino den of Bamahama was originally projected to be hit. It was strongly suggested even. I mean, that’s a definite thing. It was most likely going to be hit much harder than anticipated. It was looking like it was going to be hit by the most powerful hurricane ever in the history of hurricanes. Because hurricanes are winds hurried up, you know. But what a hurricane. A category five hurricane! Not that I’ve ever heard of that before. Even though I know everything. I even told everyone to be careful. Hmph. As if I care.”

“T-Rump!” hissed the Stephaniegrisham. “Filter! You’re expressing campaign-killing thoughts again.”

They turned to see the shocked face of the Mediacircustops.

“I don’t believe this. You’re still talking about Bamahama five days later?” He gestured at the damage around them. “What about Charleston?”

“What about it? Look, I’m telling you. That footprint I showed the dino world was an original footprint.”

“It was a doctored footprint. There was another footprint added to it. A sharp footprint. As a matter of fact, it looked a lot like yours. Was it?”

“Hell, no.” 

God, he loved to lie. It never got old. His latest lie was as easy and just as satisfying as the first. It was to his brain what a Dietcoker and Cheezbuggabugga was to his gut.

“Then who?” asked the Mediacircustops. “Who did it?” 

“Just go and make something up like you always do.”

“Are you deflecting again?”

“I’ve never deflected in my life.”

The Mediacircustops coughed up a lung from a large rodent. The T-Rump scowled back.

“I recognize that regurgitation. Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m calling you a pathological liar.”

The Shepardsmith happened to be in the Mediacircustops gaggle. He stepped forward to face the T-Rump.

“Some things in Trumplandia are inexplicable. You said that Bamahama was at risk from the hurricane. It wasn’t. Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you’re confused. Maybe drop the maybe. I don’t know. But you are wrong.”

“Me?” the T-Rump snarled. “Wrong? Never!”

“Just then a Trollertweety flew overhead with its unmistakable, raucous tweet.

“Squawk! This just in at the Dino Bath Day or Not Service. For the 33rd time, the Bamahama area will NOT see any impacts from the hurricane. Nothing. Nada. We repeat, no impact no matter what the T-Rump says. Don’t listen to him. He thinks a shower is … well, you know. Stay tuned for more denials because he won’t shut up! Squawk!”

“Roberts!” the T-Rump shouted. “Get over here. Now!”

The Foxsquawkbox, the Johnroberts came to the fore.

“You’re lucky you caught me. I was just talking–”

“Shut up. I know what time your show’s over. I need you to turn, look this Foxsquawkbox turncoat, the Shepardsmith in the eye and tell him he’s an idiot. Then, I want you to tell him that Bamahama was indeed about to be blown off the face of the planet. Ahem. Go ahead. I’m waiting.”

“Uh, well … you see, T-Rump. I hate to break it to you, but the dinos of Bamahama were never threatened. Not one.”

“Not even a tree in the very nearest southeast corner of Bamahama?”

“Not even a leaf.”

“Oh, no. Not you too. That does it. The Foxsquawkbox is officially dead. Where the hell did everybody go?”

“You hired them,” said the first Mediacircustops. “Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, because your Oval Dwelling staff is rarely, if ever up to speed, but did you know that presenting falsified government information publicly is a crime? You could go to the Solitary Sinkhole, y’know.”

“For a lousy weather report? Hah!”

The Mediacircustops turned to more important things like helping the down-and-out dinos struggling in the flood waters. The T-Rump simmered, his eyes glaring after the departing dino.

“Face it. I’m right and you’re wrong. Again. Oh, and by the way, thanks for your apology!”

“I never apologized!”

“Yes, you did.” 

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Fu*ked Up …

It was a somber gathering. Tyrumposaurus tail-waggers and several dino officials from the Permian Basin in the Land of Longhorns squatted behind a flat rock. More of their underlings squatted behind them, short arms folded, quietly licking their chops. A crowd of Mediacircustops and several high-ranking Donkeykongrus dinos gathered in front. They were all looking for answers in the latest Milkanhoney Preservation carnage. 7 dinos had been massacred in Odessa Mesa and 22 more wounded by a rampaging Assaultriflerus. 

An Odessa Mesa official brought the meeting to order.

“Ahem, I’d just like to say that yesterday afternoon, we had something happen that we would never wish on any dino.”

“Excuse me, Mike,” said the dino governor, the Gregabbott. “That’s not what we’re going for here. Thanks for coming out. I’m taking over.”

He carefully eyed the Mediacircustops.

“I’ve been to too many of these. 26 dinos dead in Supperland Springs, 23 dead in Killeen Fields and just four weeks ago, 22 dinos killed in Elpasogrande. Of the 18 worst dino massacres in the Milkanhoney Preservation, six of them have happened right here in the Land of Longhorns. Six!”

“Go, Longhorns!” came a voice from the back.

Dinos turned and stared him down.

“Oops. Sorry. I thought we were winning.”

“No, we’re not,” said the Gregabbott. We’re losing. Big time. Six massacres here. We have only 9% of the dino population and yet we have 33% of the massacres. I don’t like the math. I hate it. 109 dinos dead in the Land of Longhorns. The status quo is unacceptable.”

The Nancypelosi stepped forward.

“Before you change your mind, this requires immediate action. The Moscowmitch is refusing to help dinos.”

“Time’s up,” said the Elizabethwarren. “Every day we wait, more tragedies happen. Moscowmitch must do something. The Milkanhoney Preservation is done waiting for him.”

The Amyklobuchar was next.

“No more of the same. Promises made. A visit with that Ennarraygunsarus knucklehead Waynelapierre. Promises broken. We need to act. We were ready weeks ago.”

“Hey, where’d all these women come from?” asked the Gregabbott. “Oh, right. You’re with the Donkeykongrus.”

“Excuse me, Greg,” said the Mincepencenow. “I’m leaving soon for Polandia, but I just want to say in my best please-the-T-Rump voice, that every last one of his dinos are determined to work with all dinos in the Kongrus Kave to take steps that address and confront this scourge of mass atrocity in our dino nation. Scourge and atrocity. Mother told me to use those words.”

The dino senator from the Neverglades, the Rickscott, raised a short arm.

“This is an issue about how do we keep dinos safe. I’m going to do everything I can. I assure you. Everything.”

“Enough of your happy talk,” said the Juliancastro. “16 dino teenagers lost their lives on your watch in Parkland Heights. We need to know who are getting these Assaultriflerus dinos? The T-Rump expressed an interest in background checks twice after Parkland Heights and again after Elpasogrande and Greaterdayton. These are his biggest lies. Lies, dinos!”

“Hey!” said the Gregabbott. “Now cut that out. This is my Mediacircustops gathering. Just because the T-Rump isn’t nice to you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be nice to him. Let’s try and set an example for our leader, okay? Sheesh. Now then. Yes, I did agree with a lot — okay, all — of the Ennarraygunsarus ideas we made the law of the land to ease the access of Assaultriflerus. But, I assure you, this is all in the interest of safety.”

“Aren’t you afraid these will increase the danger of dino massacres?” asked a Mediacircustops.

“Nonsense. Yes, two of the recent massacres were committed by Assaultriflerus, but one was by an itty-bitty Puppyhandgun. That alone blows your argument to smithereens. Did I mention that half of those 18 greatest massacres in the Milkanhoney Preservation have happened in the past three years? I promise to take action on these massacres. I really do. Ask me where we are in a few weeks. I’m not going to get into specifics now. We’re going to look at every issue. There’s no issue we’re not going to look at. We have several groups looking at all these issues. More ideas, less chance of coming to a consensus, mind you. But we’re trying. Changes are needed. Unless of course, they deal with a dino’s unalienable right to have an Assaultriflerus, or two or three, in their cave. You never know when 200 dinos on the warpath are going to drop by unannounced.”

“I am tired of the dying dinos in the Land of Longhorns but I am not tired of listening to the great ideas of the Ennarraygunsarus leader, the Waynelapierre. May I remind the dinos of the great Land of Longhorns that as far as our number of Assaultriflerus, etc. we still trail the Califortyniners. Let’s pick up the pace, shall we?” 

The words fell on the shocked faces of many dinos.

“What? Turn those frowns upside down. The Waynelapierre himself suggested I mix that in to try and defuse the situation. Life goes on, right? Okay, unfortunately with some death mixed in. On that note, we are here today. And we’ll be here everyday until this dino community is pieced back together. Because you know it’s only a matter of one, two, three weeks — tops — when we’ll all be back here again somewhere in the Milkanhoney Preservation, more likely right here in the Land of Longhorns … so thoughts and prayers … you know the drill. I have my good friend here, the Mattschaefer to take us home. Matt?”

The Mattschaefer, a Land of Longhorns Grandoldparty dino, rose from his squat and glared at the Donkeykongrus faithful.

I hear a lot of you dinos hollering, ‘do something!’ Let me tell you what I am NOT going to do. I am NOT going to use the evil acts of a handful of dinos to diminish the Gawdalmighty-given rights of my fellow Land of Longhorn dinos. Period. None of these so-called solutions will work to stop a dino with evil intent. What can we do? I say YES to praying for victims. YES to praying for protection. YES to praying that Gawdalmighty will transform the hearts of dinos with evil intent. The real root of the problem is depraved dino hearts. The depraved dino heart. Ripping. Tearing. Destroying our community. Don’t blame the Assaultriflerus. That’s a cop-out. So I think the first big step on turning this whole thing around is one big Land of Longhorns-size group hug, everyone. C’mon. Who’s with me?”

The Betoorourke couldn’t believe his eyes.

“This is f*cked up.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 949 & 953

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-szt7x-bdba29

This weeks T-Rump Dig Podcast features: Day 949 — Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner … the T-Rump stuns the dino global leaders at the Gee-Seven-Showed-Up … and … Day 953 — The Bed Bug Boogaloo — the T-Rump’s inner circle wrap their walnuts around how to woo the Putinodon to the Doral Gnats’n All.

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The Bed Bug Boogaloo …

The Mickmulvaney squatted before the Tyrumposaurus in the Oval Dwelling. The chief of staff dino’s face was flushed, he was breathless and perspiring per usual. Catering to the T-Rump’s every whim was a demanding, demeaning, thankless job.

“T-Rump,” he gasped. “The hurricane has pretty much missed Puerto Rikkiricardo.”

“Damn!”

“But it’s sure to pack a wallop when it reaches the Neverglades. What should we do?”

“That reminds me. I want to hold the Gee-Seven-Showed-Up at my luxury cave resort there. You know, the Doral Gnats’n All.”

“But what about the–”

A stern look from the T-Rump reminded him the hurricane was now a distant second to personal interest. The Tyvankanatrix smiled and raised her hand.

“Did you want to know how much extra we can charge for the gnats … or should I just pick a ridiculous number you don’t need to know about?

“Ridiculous is good. If one moolah-moolah leaf is the regular price for one gnat, surprise me. Be sure and pump them up. They’re not just ordinary gnats, y’know.”

“Oh, I will. Fungus gnats should be in season. I can’t wait. And with the buffalo gnats — we can charge extra on top of the extra.”

“That’s my girl. And while you’re at it, give a few gnats to the Kayleighpickaninny. Can you believe how she looked the Chriscoumo right in the eye and said I don’t lie. With one line she absolved me of 12,000 lies. Incredible. I own this swamp!”

“You sure do, T-Rump,” said the Stephenmillerus, the T-Rump’s senior advisor and long-time demented dino of doom. “I, uh … know how you like to stay on top of these things. You said ‘a few’ gnats for the Pickaninny. Would that be three or four?”

“Make it two. It’s not like they lay two or three hundred eggs at a time, right?”

“On the contrary, they do.”

“No they don’t.”

“Whatever you say, T-Rump.”

The T-Rump turned serious.

“Do you think gnats will do it, Stephen? I think we’ll need more than that to please the Putinodon. He is after all, our main focus here. We have to get him to come. We have to.”

The Stephenmillerus ground his walnut brain to the core but try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single helpful thought. It wasn’t in his DNA. He was meant to inflict maximum pain and torture.

The T-Rump rose from his squat.

“Well, this is boring. And tiring. You all give it some thought, just don’t bug me in bed.”

“Bed. Bug. Bed bugs!” shouted the Mickmulvaney, smiling triumphantly. The T-Rump would surely keep him another week.

The T-Rump returned to his squat.

He turned to Tyvanka.

“Could we?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll get to work on the infestation right away.”

“Give yourself another gnat, Mick.”

“Why, thank you, boss.”

The T-Rump reveled in his mastery.

“Bed bugs. It doesn’t get much better than that. The Putinodon will love’em. They don’t get very good ones in the Moscovian Bluffs. I should know. I know everything there is to know about bed bugs in the Moscovian Bluffs. We will have the best bed bugs in the world at the Doral Gnats’n All. The best.”

The T-Rump paused.

“Hold it. Stop right there. I almost forgot. I’ve just given away several gnats. What’s in it for me? C’mon. Be quick about it. It’s great that I have you all here to think up my reward.”

The Williambarr may have been wallowing nearby in the carcass of a Sucklingpigasaurus, but he managed to finally drag himself to his feet. He stumbled forward.

“Oh, gracious, esteemed loftiest of lofty dinos, I believe it is time I … well, it’s high time I came through in spades for you after all the shenanigans you’ve allowed me to extricate you from. So I’m going to throw you a big year-end party.”

“Where?”

The words drilled through the Williambarr like a raptor tooth through a mouse’s heart.

“Why at one of your luxury caves. The one generating the lowest revenue of course. I will kick in 30,000 moolah-moolah leaves.”

“Only 30?”

“Forgive me, but as the leading legal dino in the land, I need to draw some happy medium between appearing overly gracious and completely unethical.”

“Okay, I’ll let it go this time. But I have a birthday coming up. Twice a year, you know.”

“Of course.”

Another dino underling entered the Oval Dwelling, sought out the Stephenmillerus and whispered something in his ear. The Stephenmillerus’ expression devilishly brightened.

“There’s good news from the front.”

“What front?” asked the T-Rump. “We’re not at war. Are we?”

“We’re always at war. I’ve just received news that our triple-secret program of sending very sick immigrant dino tots back from whence they came has begun. It is a great day under my wickedness and your leadership, T-Rump. Let’s raise our Dietcokers and toast … to gnats, bed bugs and dying dino tots!”

“Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? …

“One last time. Who wants to sit beside him?”

The words from the host, the Emmanuelemacron hung in the air. The dinosaur leaders gathered around the dining rock looked down at the ground. They were at the Gee-Seven-Showed-Up dinosaur meeting at the seaside conclave at Buyritz-mais-oui.

“Okay, I can see I’m going to have to choose two dinos.”

“I sat beside him last time, said the Angelamerkel, “Never again. How do the Milkanhoney Preservation dinos say it? What a maroon!”

“I live right beside him,” said the normally reserved Justintrudeau. “Please excuse me, but for me this is a much-needed holiday.”

The Emmanuelemacron turned to the T-Rump’s trade dino, the Larrykudlow.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

“But you work for him.”

“Your point? Hey, you’re the host. You sit beside him.”

“Fine then, I will. Another meal, wasted. Boris, you’re on the other side.”

The Borisjohnson blinked.

“I beg your pardon. Were you talking to me?”

The host pointed the Britwit leader toward his assigned seat.

“Alright, but the food isn’t even here yet.”

The leader of the free-running dino world, the Tyrumposaurus, soon arrived and squatted down between the Borisjohnson and the Emmanuelemacron. The host turned to the T-Rump.

“Would you like to lead us in prayer?”

“Emmanuele, just because I’m the Chosen One, let’s not be ridiculous.”

The host glanced nervously at his guests around the dining rock.

“Okay, you’re all welcome to make your silent intentions.”

The guests all cast hopeful prayers to the upcoming year and a speedy removal of the T-Rump from power.

The T-Rump pointed to the Borisjohnson.

“Who is this guy? He was a nobody five years ago and now he’s leader of the Britwits. Amazing! Do you have a plan for Brexit, Boris?”

“Uh, well … to put it mildly, no.”

“Put it there, pal.” The T-Rump slapped palms with him “That’s how I roll too. Who needs details? Plans are for suckers. We think alike. Welcome to the team.”

The T-Rump looked around the table.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, this team is just me and him. Emphasis on me.”

“T-Rump,” said the Emmanuelemacron. “Everybody here is worried that you’re upsetting the dino world with this feud you’re having with the Chopstickchowmein.”

The T-Rump felt the weight of the eyes around the table bearing down on him. God, how he hated these meetings.

“Okay, okay. I’ve been having some misgivings.”

“What kind of misgivings?” asked the host.

“Well, to tell the truth — and wouldn’t that be a red-letter day — I have second thoughts about everything. Everything.”

The Larrykudlow rose from his squat.

“Okay, that’s enough. Stop right there. It’s obvious because I’m right here. He didn’t hear your question properly and his answer will most certainly be taken out of context.”

“Excuse me,” said the Emmanuelemacron. “He heard me very well because his response of having second thoughts is the perfect definition of the word he used — misgivings. There is no context to get wrong. It’s a moot point.”

“Okay, okay. The second thoughts thing. He was actually thinking about making life tougher on the Chopstickchowmein. But he didn’t. Give him a break, why don’t you? So, in closing, I have no idea what this all means for the average dino family, but I feel a positive vibe, a truly positive dino vibe. I’m here. So I felt it.”

The smug Larrykudlow returned to his squat, believing his baffle-gab had successfully muddled another stunning turn of events in T-Rump world.

“Thank you, Larry,” said the T-Rump. “Why do you all look so surprised? I’ve heard nothing but good things about all the Tariffraptors I’ve sent out. Nothing but good things. They mean business. Mean business!”

“Excuse me, T-Rump,” said the Borisjohnson. “Just to register a faint, sheep-like note of our view on the Tariffraptors. But we’re in favor of peace on the whole. We think the Britwits have lived well the past 200 years. So, that’s what we’re keen to see. We don’t like Tariffraptors on the whole.”

“I’ll give you a whole Tariffraptor,” muttered the T-Rump. “So you’re a sheep, are you?”

“A faint sheep.”

“What the hell is that?”

“A sheep with bone spurs,” came a voice from across the dining rock.

“Who said that?!”

All mugs froze in silent glum.

“Well, be you a faint sheep or a sheep that faints, it’s good to have you aboard, Boris. Let’s call this the Faint Sheep Bi-Lateral Agreement, Larry.”

“A great title, boss.”

The T-Rump swished his tail in a haphazard manner, signalling to all that something most heinous was up.

“Now then, let’s get to the real reason we’re all gathered here. I — and several others — want to get the Russodinos back in these meetings.”

“Exactly who are the others?” asked the Emmanuelemacron.

“Easy, Emmanuele. I said our earlier meeting was our best ever. Do you want me to take it down a notch? You know how the Tymelania says ‘Be Best.” We wouldn’t want to upset her now, would we?”

“The Russodinos attacked the Creme-de-la-Crimea in direct violation of what this group of dinos stands for.”

“That was five years ago. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

The T-Rump pointed to an empty spot at the dining rock.

“We should invite them to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, that seat is taken. Didn’t I tell you? The Iranosaurae have just arrived. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wait a sec. They didn’t actually say they were going to meet with me, did they? Because they can’t do that. That would be like … an emergency. Only I can make an emergency.”

“That is not a virtue,” said the Justintrudeau.

“No, T-Rump,” said the host. “I invited them here. They’re going to meet with me and the rest of the good dinos here to discuss peace. But … just by their being here, they’re leaving a place at their table for you to ask for a meeting. Just like the place at the dining rock you see before you now. This is your big chance. If you walk away … you will have missed a golden opportunity to make things right … and … you will be seen by the rest of the dino world as being once more a lone-wolf dino not interested in dino peace. It’s a lose-lose situation for you if you don’t sit down with them. We’re so glad you could make it, T-Rump.”

Categories
Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 942 & 946

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-fzwup-bcd13a

In this week’s T-Rumpesque double feature: Day 942 — Let’s Do Some Math Here … The Peternavarro tries to straighten out the Jaketapper … and on Day 946 — Priss Family Robinson … Guess who’s traipsing through the Wyoming Valley?