Satire The Trump Dig

Biden Time …

The Joebiden looked up at the gleaming sun and smiled anew. It was going to be a great day. He’d just announced he’d be seeking leadership of the Donkeykongrus party. Now to get out and about, start raking in the moolah-moolah leaves. Press some flesh with the flesh-eaters — the gap-toothed to the razor sharp. Short arm fist bumps, some low-fives and a good tail-whack here and there.

He spotted a Subpoenasaurus coming his way. The Joebiden stuck out a short arm.

“Mornin’, I’m the –”

“Sorry, no time to chat. I’m after the Tyrumposaurus’ mytaxes returnus.”

The determined dino scampered past him and  down the trail. The Joebiden looked after him.

“That’s right. Joebiden. Tell your friends! You’ll need them to help you find the T-Rump’s elusive spring skin.”

Soon another Subpoenasaurus came barreling down the path. The Joebiden pointed in the direction of the previous hard-charging dino.

“Mytaxes returnus? That-a-way.”

“Oh, no,” said the Subpoenaurus as he whizzed by. “I’m after the full, unredacted Muellersavus report. See ya!”

The Joebiden’s smile lost some of its gleam. This just wouldn’t do. If we was going to recruit dinos it was obvious he’d need a captive audience.

Half an hour later he arrived at the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir’s dino dungeon, the Solitary Sinkhole. If the Berniesanders was going to give the incarcerated the vote, he needed to get out in front.

The Joebiden strolled through the prison grounds, peering down the many sinkholes, dropping his name with a wink and a smile. He was careful not to let his tail get too close to the hole lest he get dragged in. He looked down one hole and was taken aback. He was staring at the dino responsible for adding the citizenship question to the dino census.

“The Johngore? Is that you? The Justice Department Principal Deputy Assistant Attorney Dino General?” 

One and the same.

“Maybe you should just go with ‘acting.’ What are you doing down there?”

“They got me on some trumped-up contempt of court charge. But it’s for a good cause.”

“So dinosaurs will be afraid to identify themselves? Drive down dino numbers and choke our dino democracy?”

“Joe, I admit I didn’t really think it through. The T-Rump said no and you know how he gets. I don’t need my ancestry, my wife, my family all disgraced by him from the bully pulpit.”

“Has the T-Rump stopped by? Brought you some food?”

“No and no. When it rains though, the mud tastes a bit better. Less muddy.”

“Less muddy,” said the Joebiden. “That’s nice.”

The Joebiden moved on to the next sinkhole. Lo and behold. It contained the dino security official, the Carlkline. 

“Carl, don’t tell me. The Subpoenasaurus?”

“Contempt of court. Yeah, yeah. They got me. All because I wouldn’t appear before the committee to blab about those 30 security clearance cases.”

“You mean the ones where the Langleyops said those dinos couldn’t get clearance to run a dino daycare?”

“Hey! I was just doin’ my job. No questions asked.”

“But your job was to ask questions.”

A mute expression from the Carlkline. Not computing. There was a lot of this within the Grandoldparty ranks. The Joebiden soldiered on.

“Carl, I have a way you can make this right. Or at least rejoin the road to redemption.”

I’m not voting for you.

“Suit yourself. How’s the mud?”

The Joebiden moved onto the next sinkhole. He recognized the dino squatting beside it.

“The Donmcgahn? I never thought …”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m just visiting.”


The Joebiden leaned over the sinkhole, peering down at the dino inside.

“The Stephenmillerus? My word. Contempt? You too?”

“Oh, I’ll show them contempt,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’ve, uh … got to be going,” said the Donmcgahn. “A date with the committee.”

The legal dino hurried for the exit.

“Shut up, Don!” screamed the Stephenmillerus. “You’d better shut up! Long live the T-Rump!”

“Temper, temper,” said the Joebiden. “I’m beginning to see why those four senior Homeland Security dinos up and left.”

The Stephenmillerus seethed from below.

“They were weak. And meek. Like meeces. I hate them meeces to pieces!”

The Joebiden sighed. He felt sorry for the Stephenmillerus. An obviously challenging dino tot-hood. The Stephenmillerus railed on.

“They don’t understand zero tolerance. Zero means zero.”

He scowled up at the Joebiden.

“You’re looking at zero.”

“No argument there.”

“Our southern border is being overrun by the murdering Latinonachos and you squat there with open arms.”

“I’m squatting here looking down at a dino who’s been convicted of contempt of court.”

“The T-Rump will look after me.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s the–”

“I like mud.”

The Stephenmillerus scooped up a handful and licked at it, steeling himself against the brackish taste. The Joebiden cringed.

“Uh, did you hear about the Larryhopkins, that renegade dino who was tracking down and holding Latinonachos dinos at the Great Tex-Mex Divide before finally being apprehended?”

The Stephenmillerus smirked.

“My kind of dino.”

“Well, evidently, while he was in the Solitary Sinkhole, he was attacked by several Latinonachos.”


The Joebiden turned away from the sinkhole.

“Afraid so. My, my. Isn’t that a coincidence,” he said, raising his voice as he headed for the exit. “Here you are, a dino responsible for ripping dino tots away from their mothers and you just so happen to be in a solitary sinkhole … surrounded by well-meaning, far-from-home Latinonachos who are just trying to make an honest moolah-moolah leaf to send home to their families. Their loved ones. … Joebiden’s the name. I’ll be there for you. Ahem, not you, Stephen.”

The Joebiden gone, several Latinonachos began descending into the Stephenmillerus’ sinkhole.

“No. No. Stay away from me. I’m warning you. I’m a bully. A big, bad … outnumbered bully. Don’t touch me! Let go of me! A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-g-h!”

The Stephenmillerus awoke in a panic, jumping out of his nest. He gulped for air. It was all a bad dream. Just a dream. He blinked his eyes and finally sneered.

He’d had worse.

Satire The Trump Dig

A Posse’s Creed …

“A little more, a little to the right.”

The Jimjordan’s tail pointed directions from behind the massive boulder. A huge Brontosaurus pushed the stone in front of the cave, concealing the Jimjordan and the Markmeadows inside and in the dark.

“Uh, Jim?”

“What is it?”

“How are we going to get out later?”

“Details, Mark. We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

The two dinos were inside the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb near Calvary Crossing. It was a Grandoldparty cave used as a think tank in generations past. Not as much thinking done these days. Now just another old dinos’ club.

Today was the Great Dino Sabbath, a spring day when dinos counted their blessings. Without opposing thumbs. The celebration featured little dino tots scampering around searching for dino eggs. The novelty had long since worn off however, as it was next to impossible to hide a dinosaur egg.

Inside the dark cave, the Jimjordan and the Markmeadows held their tails over their hearts and together recited their dino party’s maxim, “A Posse’s Creed.”

“We believe in capitalism,

Conservatism almighty,

Creator of corruption and greed,

And in the T-Rump,

Its most in debt dino,

Our ruler,

Who was conceived by some strange notion,

Hatched from a cracked shell,

Suffered under the Mediacircustops,

Was crucified, died and was buried on the back page;

He descended upon the Crookadillary;

On the weekend he arose to go flogging;

He ascended into obscene wealth,

–That’s comfortably well off to you and me;

He squats wherever he wants to.

From there he will mock the living and the dead.

Just ask the Mccainus.

We believe in the devil-may-care spirit,

The evangelicals pick and choose,

The compound interest,

The forgiveness of loopholes,

The deregulation of the land,

And luxury everlasting.”

“Bless you, Tricky Dick.”

“Who said that?” asked the Jimjordan.

The Markmeadows felt around in the dark.

“Is that you, Roger–”

“Correction, the Rogerstone.”

“Sorry,” said the Jimjordan. “You’re bad news. We can’t be seen with you.”

He moved to the entrance, feeling for the boulder.

“C’mon, Mark. Put your back into it.”

The two dinos huffed and puffed and pushed the big rock away from the opening. They collared the dirty trickster dino and dragged him out kicking and screaming.

“Stop it! How dare you! You can’t remove a Stone from the Tomb! You Mutt an’ Jeff, you!”

“That’s Mark and Jim,” corrected the Markmeadows.

They tossed him aside Good Samaritan Way to test the resolve of any well-meaning dino. The Markmeadows paused, looking down at the disgraced dino.

“Do you wonder sometimes if … is he the reason we’re here?”

The two dinos looked at each other.


Another Brontosaurus looking to make a quick couple of moolah-moolah leaves happened by and within moments sealed them back inside the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb.

In the pitch dark, the Markmeadows sensed something other than the dank, musky odor.

“Do you smell turkey?”


The sound came from the corner.

The Jimjordan took a step closer.

“Mitch? Is that you?”

Indeed it was the Sin Hut majority leader, the Kentuckygobbler, the Mitchgetbacktowork. The Markmeadows put his hands on his hips.

“You’ve been there the whole time? How come you didn’t help us push the stone?”

“I’d like to push him off a cliff.”

“The large stone,” said the Jimjordan. “So, what are doing in here by yourself?”

“You’re not hiding are you?” asked the Markmeadows.

“After the Meullersavus report? Of course I’m hiding! The T-Rump should be in the Solitary Sinkhole for the rest of his life! His sons, his daughter, the whole lot should be fricasseed!”

Fricasseed was dino lingo for running the wrong way in a forest fire.

“Calm down, you old fart,” said the Jimjordan. “You need to loosen up and shed that outer skin now and then. Look at me.”

“Jim’s right,” said the Markmeadows. “We have ways of dealing with the Meullersavus report.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” said the Jimjordan. “If some meddling Mediacircustops asks if you think the attorney dino general was acting as the legal dino for the T-Rump and not the dino nation, well … you just answer, no, I think the A.G. rendered himself extremely well. He said we’re going to hold dinos accountable. Last week he talked about the spying that took place. Spying! I think he handled himself exactly the way all dinos want him to operate. We have to get to the bottom of the Comeyonus Cabal. He leaked info to the Mediacircustops to manufacture this need for the Meullersavus. That’s what needs to be looked at and that’s what good ol’ Billy Barr is gonna do.”

The Jimjordan clapped his hands in glee while the Markmeadows cautioned the Mitchgetbacktowork.

“Maybe you don’t want to call him Billybarr just yet. But to Jim’s point, when they ask if the T-Rump had actually fired the Muellersavus and how it would’ve change the story? You just say, we don’t know. The fact of the matter is that he did conclude the investigation. And listen, you know the T-Rump and I know the T-Rump and if he wanted to fire the Muellersavus, he damn well would’ve! Damn straight!”

The giddy Jimjordan jumped back in.

“And if they have the audacity to claim the Meullersavus was simply kicking this over to the Kongrus Kave, well … you just tell them the entire dino nation said the Muellersavus was the best legal dino in history, the definitive end-all dino and he chose not to indict. … That’s the bottom line. Most dinos are tired of this double standard. One set of rules for us regular dinos — not counting the Jeaninepirro — but a different set of rules if your name is Comeyonus or the Crookadillary.”

“Exactly,” the Markmeadows chimed in. “If we play by the Adamschiff rules, then the Adamschiff would be guilty when he met with the Glennsimpson down Fusion-Geepee-Yes way that started this entire thing, uh … in Colorado Flats. He would’ve been guilty of, of … coordinating with, with, uh … some dino who actually has put false, uh … testimony before, uh … the Langleyops. You know, those dino feds we only speak nice of when we need’em? And so, uh … when we look at this … are you still with me, Mitch?”

“Heck, no.”

“See how effective it is? So just trash the parts of the report you don’t like. Cherry pick the rest. Everybody likes cherries, right?”

The three Grandoldparty dinos nodded, salivating, jowls dripping, leaving puddles at their feet.

“Okay,” said the Jimjordan, “I think we’re good to go.”

The Markmeadows tapped the Mitchgetbacktowork on the shoulder.

“One more thing. Whatever you do, don’t pull a Giuliani.”

“How so?”

“Don’t say it’s okay to accept information from the Russodinos.”

“Good grief. I’m not an idiot.”

They leaned into the boulder and once more moved the stone from the tomb. Trollertweeties flying overhead squawked, sounding eerily similar to archangels but the dinos ignored it. They went their separate ways, making it harder for any dino to track them down.

Five minutes later the Tyrumposaurus came upon the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb. Head down, he was very animated, talking to himself.

“I never agreed to testify … I don’t have to respond to statements about me in the report … they’re total B.S. … only makes the other dino look good … and makes me look bad. Total B.S.”

He stopped in his tracks. He saw the stone moved from the tomb. He stepped closer and peered inside the dark cave.

“Mitch? Jim? Mark? I know you’re in there. Hey, did you hear the latest? The fuss from the Muellersavus report has risen up. Risen up alright. Again. It’s the worst. Total B.S. … We have to put an end to this. Guys?”

Satire The Trump Dig

Preemptive Scrum …

The large, squat, toad-like Williambarr gazed out at the massive gathering of Mediacircustops. It was Act 28 of his long-running play at upstaging the Muellersavus report, 400-plus footprints in the sand that had taken 22 months for the veteran Langleyops and his meticulous crew to stamp into Trumpassic Period history.

The Williambarr beamed at his latest public relations coup. Once more he’d put the Tyrumposaurus spin on the report, ingraining the T-Rump’s innocence upon all things collusive and obstructive — 90 minutes before the rest of the dino world even had a chance to see what he was talking about.

“Welcome, dinos,” the attorney dino general began. “We meet again. I’m not going to apologize for getting out ahead of the Muellersavus on this one. In a time where many dinos beg off, saying that’s above my pay grade. Well, heh-heh … it’s not above mine. No, sirree. There was no collusion with the Russodinos or obstruction of justice. The Tyrumposaurus and his Oval Dwelling dinos bent over backwards — quite a feat for some of these dinos who are practically invertebrates. That is, without backbone. Forget the fire and brimstone cries of ‘Fake News’ from the bully pulpit. It’s the thought that counts. The T-Rump could have asserted executive privilege but out of the clean, pristine goodness of his heart, he didn’t. Ahem. Whatta guy.”

The Williambarr dabbed his eyes. Try as he might, tears wouldn’t come. Did that make him a bad actor? Oh well, on with the show.

“It almost brings me to tears, and it should you too. I’ll tell you why the T-Rump behaved this way. He said he may speak with you later, but let’s call that a little white lie for now. The T-Rump entered an unprecedented situation when he entered the Oval Dwelling. There is substantial evidence … and this is a rare case where the Muellersavus and I do agree … that the T-Rump was frustrated and yes, even angered by the investigation undermining his leadership. So, based on this golden public relations opportunity I’ve orchestrated, I can’t say it enough. Don’t read the report too deeply, because there was no collusion. The Muellersavus however and the Rodrosenstein squatting behind me, who looks to have contracted some strange illness since arriving, both disagree. Remember, they’re beneath me. Apparently the Muellersavus has outlined ten instances of potential obstruction by the T-Rump. But I ask you. 10 instances? Is that all he could come up with? If you stack that up with the T-Rump’s 9500 lies, why that’s only 1 obstruction every 95 lies. I’d call that a 95 percent success rate. I’ll take those odds. Every time. You should too. Now then, I’ll take a few questions.”

The Shimonprokupecz raised a short arm, put on his best sneer and fired first.

“I was going to ask you if you’re making this up as you go along, but we all know the answer to that one.”

A few snickers from the scrum. The Shimonprokupecz continued.

“Seeing as how you won’t let us see the Muellersavus report for another hour-and-a-half, that leaves us with nothing to talk about.”


“Except you.”


Uh-oh. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. The Williambarr took a deep breath. Yes, he’d signed on to be the fire wall against all things anti-T-Rump. He’d take the heat and vitriol for his esteemed leader because after all, in this day and age, bad news trumped bad like a sputtering volcano. Fortunately there was no lava that could burn through his boss’s orange, armour-like skin. Because his boss was one b-a-a-a-a-d dino.

“Uh, what about me?”

“We’re onto you,” said the Shimonprokupecz. “We know your M.O.”

“Mouth Opening?”

“Modus operandi. Thirty years ago when you were the assistant attorney dino general for the Bushfortyone, he wanted the Manuelnoriega out of the Panamaroot Canal. So you came up with some fancy footwork that allowed the Langleyops to go into a foreign land and take him out. Then when the Kongrus Kave wanted to see your legalese you declined. You finally told them your footprints only dealt with domestic matters, not foreign lands.”

“That’s right.”

“Except we finally found out two years later — after you left — that your words were all about foreign affairs. You lied to the dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation.”

“Well …”

“I’m not done.”


“There were six dinos, including the Casparweinberger, who were charged with crimes in the Iran-Contra Sandy Feetza scandal. The Bushfortyone had footprints in the sand that could implicate him so you advised him to pardon the six dinos, thereby giving him cover to do so and effectively end the investigation.”

“Hey, who has a question about the Muellersavus report?”

“We haven’t read it, remember?” came a chorus of several Mediacircustops.

“Right. I almost forgot.”

The Williambarr had to think fast. This scrum was blowing up in his face.

“Okay, here’s a teaser on the report. The Huckabeecyclops lied.”

A collective yawn from the crowd.

“No, really. She did.”

“Okay,” said the Shimonprokupecz. “I’ll bite. Could you be more specific?”

“If you insist. Remember when she said the Comeyonus was fired because, let’s see if I can paraphrase here … there were countless members of the Langleyops who had lost faith in the Comenyonus? And then, when you Mediacircustops pressed her to explain to the rank-and-file Langleyops who disagreed with her, she said she’d heard from countless — there’s that word again — Langleyops that said very different things. Well, here’s the shocker. That was all baseless information. Lies. Both lies. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go ask her about it?”

The Mediacircustops turned on their heels and stampeded for the Oval Dwelling. The Williambarr wiped his brow. Dodged another one. There was one solace in life. Lava did flow downhill.

Satire The Trump Dig

Mad Max Beyond Mnuchin Home …

There was a tail rapping on the outside of his cave. The Stevenmnuchin rose and slowly plodded his way to the entrance. He gasped as he saw the visiting dinosaur.

It was the Maxinewaters.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m with the Welcome Wagon.” Her beady white eyes drilled a hole dead-center through his walnut-brain. “Aren’t you going to welcome me?” 

“Madam Chair, I’m afraid I really must be going. I have an important matter to attend to.”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“Something, uh … foreign. And dignified. Well, kind of dignified.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“It’s my wife. We were playing. Patty-cake.”

“Oh. Patty-cake. I understand. We should all be playing more patty-cake. Mr. Secretary, this will only take a minute.”

“I’ve been standing here for 30 seconds. I’d be happy if you could just come back tomorrow and ask me whatever it is you need. I respect you and want to have a good working relationship.”

“Honey? Who is it?” came his wife’s voice from the back of the cave.

“Mad Max– … I mean, the Maxinewaters!” he shouted over his shoulder. He turned to the madam chair with pleading eyes. He nodded back inside the cave.

She returned his nod.

“Alright. I do get it,” she said with a wink. “But I must inform you that I will be paying you a visit tomorrow. And the day after that. At the very least.”

“Madam Chair, I have it right here,” he said pointing to his pointy head. “Every time the Jackaloo or the Welcome Wagon has paid a visit they’ve never stayed more than a minute. I’ve been standing here one minute now. I can’t believe we’re standing here negotiating on when you’re going to come back. When and for how long are you going to come back? I’ll try and accommodate you.”

She stared at him with those porcelain-piercing eyeballs.

“I appreciate that and I appreciate your reminding me of other Welcome Wagon dinos that have darkened your doorway. This is the new way. And it’s a new day and it’s a new chair and I have the gravel at this point.”

She reached down and scooped up a handful of gravel. He cringed and put a hand over his face, certain she was going to fling it at him any second. Instead, she let it fall back between her 80-year-old claws to the ground. Her eyes still penetrated his very being.

“If you wish … to play patty-cake with your wife, you may.”

He stood there rooted to the spot. His runny nose sniffed the air. It must be some kind of trick. Of course. The Donkeykongrus wanted him to look bad. Make him retire into the safety of his own cave. He was having none of it. Still, he was one confused dino.

“Uh, can you clarify that for me?”

“Yes, It’s clarified. If you wish to play patty-cake … you may.”

“Okay, so I’m dismissed. Is that correct?”

“If you wish to go back inside, you may.”

“Honey! Patty-cake, remember?”

He ignored her.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You’re wasting your time. Don’t you remember? You have a game of foreign, dignified … patty-cake waiting inside.”

He frowned.

“I would just say the previous Kongrus Kave, I mean the Grandoldparty, they didn’t treat the secretary of the treasury this way. So if this is the way you want to treat me, then I’ll rethink whether I voluntarily allow you to come back here … which I’ve offered to do.”

“Uh, Mister Secretary, I want you to know that no other secretary has ever told a Welcome Wagon dino the day before that they were going to limit their time in the way that you’re doing. So if you want to use them as examples, you have acted differently than they have. As I said, if you wish to go play patty-cake, you may.”

The Stevenmnuchin paused, struggling for coherent thought. He finally found words.

“If you’d wish to keep me here so that I can’t play patty-cake and continue to grill me, then we can do that. I will cancel my patty-cake and I will not be back here in front of my cave. I will be very clear, if that’s the way you’d like to have this relationship.”

“Thank you. Well, well. The secretary has agreed to stay to hear my Welcome Wagon news. I’m happy you’re cancelling your patty-cake and respecting my time.”

The Stevenmnuchin searched the landscape beyond the madam chair.

“Okay. so let’s just be clear, in case a Mediacircustops should roam by. I am cancelling my foreign, dignified … my patty-cake. You’re instructing me to stay here and I should cancel my patty-cake.”

“No,” she said. “You just made me an offer.”

“No, I didn’t make you an offer.”

“You made me an offer that I accepted.”

“I did not make you an offer. Just let’s be clear. You’re instructing me, you are ordering me to stay here.”

“Steven!” his wife shouted.

But his focus remained on the madam chair. Her beady eyes bore down on him.

“No, I’m not ordering you. I’m responding. I said you may leave anytime you want. And you said, okay, if that’s what you want to do, I’ll cancel my patty-cake and I’ll stay here. So I’m responding to your request. If that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s not what I want to do. I told you …”

“What would you like to do?”

“Yes, Stephen, his wife called. “What would you like to do?”

He ignored her. This was party politics.

“What I’ve told you is I thought it was respectful that you’d let me play patty-cake.

“You are free to leave any time you want. You may go. Anytime you want.”

“Please dismiss me. I believe you’re supposed to take the gravel and throw it. Away from me. And say, Welcome.”

“Please do not instruct me as to how I am to conduct this Welcome Wagon. Now then. I have a large family of migrating Latinonachos moving in next door.”


“Did you forget? This is a sanctuary region. The T-Rump said to send all the migrating Latinonachos …”

“Yes, yes. To sanctuaries.”

“They literally have nothing.” She peered over his shoulder. “Are those moolah-moolah leaves covering every square inch of your cave walls?”

“Yes. My signature footprint. Ahem … on every one.

“Mister Secretary, this migrating family next door. Could you throw them a bone? Please?”

Those eyes again. Those damnable eyes. He steadied himself.

“A bone?”

One bone.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

The Maxinewaters turned on her heels.

“Tomorrow, patty-cake.”


Satire The Trump Dig

The Lowering of the Williambarr …

Several burly Constablebobbies from the Piccadilly Circle dragged the Julianassange out of his Ecuadorian-by-the-Sea cave. The main keeper of the Wikileakibeak had been holed up there for seven long years and was not going quietly.

“Get your paws off me! Do you know who I am? My real name is Herman. I’m with the Hermits. I think I’m into something good here! Really!”

He dug his heels harder into the ground.

“That poop on the wall? It’s my cat. He’s a monster!”

More struggling as they dragged him away.

“Next you’re going to tell me it’s a Russodino-Wikilealibeak-T-Rump conspiracy. Oops. Did I just say that out loud?”

Meanwhile, several dino treks and a short-haul Trollertweety flight away, the Tyrumposaurus and his sneering sycophant, the Stephenmillerus, sat with the T-Rump’s latest confirmed yes-dino, the Williambarr. The Stephenmillerus nodded to the attorney dino general.

“He’s paying big dividends, isn’t he, boss?”

“You bet,” said the T-Rump, clapping tails with the Williambarr. “I never read your 19 footprints in the sand audition, but thank goodness Stephen here did. I, uh … also didn’t read your four-footprint summary-non-summary, but again it was Stephen to the rescue. So happy you could save the day.”

“Why, thank you,” said the smug Stephenmillerus.

“Not you, I was talking to Bill.”


The Stephenmillerus extended his jaw out a foot, then retracted it. It was a nervous tick that appeared whenever he was even mildly embarrassed. A reflex instinct the T-Rump never failed to mock.

“Lockjaw would be sad. Better for you to stay unhinged.” He grinned at his joke and turned to his attorney general. “Bill, we’re getting great Mediacircustop play … I love shouting ‘total exoneration!’ from the hilltops. And then your redactions. Don’t forget all those different kinds of redactions.”

“Do you think four is enough? I can think of some more …”

“Why not?” said the Stephenmillerus. “You’re one of us now. Doing things on the fly. Like when they asked if you let any dino see the Muellersavus report. Your saying nothing said everything! They know you work for us. The top legal dino in the land. Can it get any better? And then it did!”

“Spying,” said the T-Rump. “Saying the Langleyops were spying. That was the best!”

The Stephenmillerus rubbed his hands together.

“The Nancypelosi said you’re going off the trails! Onward and downward! We’re taking down dino institutions!”

“Please, Stephen,” said the T-Rump, “I have dinos wanting to me put away. Bill, I want you to go after the Langleyops dinos who began this whole hoax. You can cut through their Crapanbullasaurus party line of ‘been there, done that’ excuses. I know you’ll do your best to stall and delay.”

More hand rubbing and a sneer from the Stephenmillerus.

“Driving the Donkeykongrus and the Mediacircustops crazy and diverting their attention from the other two dozen investigations. Genius.”

“I’m here to serve you,” the Williambarr said, kneeling to lick the T-Rump’s scaly orange feet.

“Excuse me, T-Rump?”

“What is it, Huckabee? Can’t you see I’m having my feet licked?”

“We’ve just received word that the Jullianassange of Wikileakibeak fame will be coming to the Milkanhoney Preservation.”

“Wikileakibeak? I love the Wikileakibeak! Saved our bacon during the battle. I thanked them 147 times and I’d thank them a thousand times more.

“They’ve been indicted.”

“Never heard of’em.”

“I also bring news about that Hobnoblobby dino, the Gregcraig? He’s been indicted for lying about hobnobbing and being paid 4 million moolah-moolah leaves.”

“Hobnobbing for 4 million. Right. I respect a good Hobnoblobby dino. This just goes to show the Muellersavus and his 13 angry Donkeykongrus dinos cracking down again on us poor, defenseless dinos. They’re relentless. Sad. Very sad. The Gregcraig is a great dino who I’m proud to know. He can hobnob with me anytime. For 4 million. Why, I’d even take him home to meet my sister.”

“He’s a Donkeykongrus, T-Rump.”

“He’s a treasonous traitor!”

“Um … speaking of your sister …”

“Yes, my nearest and dearest. A fine woman. A judge even. Though you’d never know it to look at me. She’s as honest as the day is long and just told me yesterday she’d like to stay as a judge for another 10 years.”

“She just resigned to avoid a mytaxes returnus fraud investigation.”

“Oh no, I don’t have any sister.”

The T-Rump turned to the Williambarr.

“How low can you go, Bill?”

“Well, I’ll have to find a sister before I can get rid of her. Hmm. I guess I could do that.”

Sure you can, Bill. Whatever I need. Or I don’t know you. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?

Satire The Trump Dig

“Mytaxes Returnus? Never!” …

“This is a hill and dinos would be willing to die on it,” the Hogangidley said with his chest swelled for added emphasis. He coughed. His chest caved. “No, ahem. Really, I would.”

The issue at hand was the Donkeykongrus’ request for the Tyrumposaurus’ mytaxes returnus. The mytaxes returnus was a thick layer of green skin shed each spring by every adult dino. Except for some strange reason, the T-Rump. He begged off, claiming his was being inspected or audited for some time now. Going on several years. The longest audit in living memory.

Which is why several of the big tail-thumpers of the T-Rump’s posse had gathered at the Foxsquawkbox headquarters to beat down this absurd request by the Donkeykongrus for a peek at the T-Rump’s most private skin. Dinos in the audience looked at one another. The Hogangidley had run out of things to say. His eyes suddenly sparkled and his face brightened. He’d remembered something and couldn’t blurt it out fast enough.

“Let’s all be thankful for the T-Rump’s great leadership!”

“Thank you, Hogan,” the Mickmulvaney said, strutting to center stage. He took a sideways glance at the Seanhannity. “You’ll need to be quiet now, Sean. This is serious business. And don’t let the Jeaninepirro, the Lauraingraham or the Annecoulter into the cave. Just don’t. There’s free speech and then there’s what they have to say. Ridiculous. Pure nonsense.”

The Mickmulvaney turned to the thousands of Foxsquawkbox faithful. He cleared his throat.

“L-O-O-O-O-O-K!!” The masses roared back as one with the Mickmulvaney’s trademark condescending sentence starter.

“Thank you. I want to assure you all that the Donkeykrongrus will never …  N-E-V-E-R … never obtain the T-Rump’s mytaxes returnus. Nor should they. Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin. Yes, the T-Rump just read those footprints in the sand yesterday. He’s showing us great leadership. Let’s keep in mind that all you dinos out there know that the T-Rump could have given over his mytaxes returnus during the battle campaign. He didn’t. You knew it and you still lined up behind him anyway. Which, of course is what drives the Donkeykongrus crazy! We just l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-v-e driving them crazy, don’t we?”

A long, loud roar from the crowd.

“That’s right, I’m a right-wing nutjob! Can you stand it?!”

More roaring from the crowd. They began chanting.

“Nut-JOB! Nut-JOB! Nut-JOB!”

“Thank you, thank you. Oh, you’re too kind. Please. Thank you.”

“L-O-O-O-O-O-K!!” came the roar from the crowd.

“That’s right, I’m speaking again. But false alarm. I want to trot out some character witnesses on this whole mytaxes returnus brouhaha.”

Confused looks from the audience.

“Ahem. An issue or dilemma? You know, a problem? So I’ve invited some dinos of fine conservative stock that will help shine some light on the poor T-Rump’s plight. Come on out, it’s the Manaforta.”

The Manaforta limped out from the wings and peered out at the crowd.

“First off, I want to thank the Mickmulvaney for calling in some favours and getting me this day pass from the Solitary Sinkhole. I’d forgotten that special Puhl-DePlugg stench in the air. Anyway, I’m still waiting for that T-Rump pardon … I mean, I want you all to know it’s a travesty and a crime to go looking at another dino’s mytaxes returnus, especially the T-Rump’s. Is there no trust, no faith left in the world? You just have to look at me. Forget about the next seven years.  I already have. Honest.”

“Heart warming.” said the Mickmulvaney. “Truly heartwarming. Okay, Paul. You need to get back before the Donkeykongrus find out. Next up, we have a dino we’re pitching to the Moolah-Moolah Reserve. Strictly non-partisan of course, but we may have to call in more favours. A trivial matter. Let’s welcome … the Stephenmoore!”

A smattering of applause from the audience.

“Thank you, heh-heh, thank you so much. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh. I’d just like to say that I’ve been commenting on economics for so long, I feel I finally — FINALLY — know the stuff. Heh-heh. I just heard an inside secret the other day. I’d like to share it with you. Buy low, sell high. You heard it here! Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh-heh. And, oh yes, the, uh, T-Rump’s mytaxes returnus, it’s not a problem. I should know. They saw mine and I still owe 75-thousand moolah-moolah. How much could the T-Rump possibly owe? Right? This is crazy! Heh-heh-heh. Heh-heh, heh-heh-heh.”

The Mickmulvaney rushed onto the stage.

“Thank you, Steve. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, I guess I do. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh.”

The Stephenmoore sidestepped off into the shadows.

“Finally,” the Mickmulvaney said, “let’s welcome the T-Rump’s own son-in-law, the Kushneratops!”

The Kushneratops took the stage with smooth, almost princely strides. He took in the crowd with a look that said he knew more than they did. And always would. He raised an eye.

“Three words. Saudisaurae. Brookfield. Six-six-six.”

He finished the sentence with a smug smile, waved his short arm and glided off the stage as if he had a billion moolah-moolah leaves lining his nest and it was Wallowing Time.

The Mickmulvaney filled the void, leading the audience in clapping their hands.

“Thank you, Jared, for gracing us with your presence. Six-six-six. Well done. Keep us posted on that peace in the Middle Eastlands, won’t you? Alright. I want to turn the stage over to the T-Rump’s personal legal dino, the vaunted, the exalted, the one legal dino among s-o-o-o-o-o many, the Williamconsovoy.”

“Oh, boy, Consovoy! Oh, boy, Consovoy!” the crowd called back.

“Okay, okay,” said the Mickmulvaney. “Trust me, he’s not that exciting. But we need to make it look like we’re doing something to fight this fight, so here’s our latest dino to master that dumb art of legal dino speak. I promise it won’t be long. If you only grasp a word or two, don’t worry, you’ll be fine. After the Williamconsovoy, we’ll hear some words from the Devilnunesmemo, who is now officially on the clock to come up with something that will further our goals of escaping this latest hot mess, this – this political stunt. Right, William?

The Williamconsovoy trotted out, trying and failing to lose his schoolboy grin.

“Yes, before I begin, I’d like to thank the T-Rump for his leadership. Now then, caution and deliberation are essential to ensure that the Moolah-Moolah Department does not erode the constitutional separation of powers or the–”

“Thank you, William,” interrupted the Mickmulvaney. “Well, done. Can’t you see their eyes glazing over already? That’s more than we need to hear. Much more. Devil? Time’s up. Get on out here.”

The Devilnunesmemo, red-cheeked and blustery as ever, huffed and puffed his way onto the stage.

“Eight! Eight no less! Got’em red-handed! I will be sending eight criminal referrals to the Williambarr this week. I don’t know who yet, but I will soon. Real soon. Count on it. I’m calling it a global leak. Global. As in really wide, you bet. We’re prepared this week to notify the Attorney Dino General that we’re prepared to send those referrals over and brief him — if he wishes to be briefed. We think they’re pretty clear, but as of right now this is, this may not be all of them, but this cleans stuff up quite a bit. Don’t you think? I certainly do. And that’s all that matters because, don’t forget, I used to be in charge.”

“Fantastic, Devil,” said the Mickmulvaney. “You are the devil, aren’t you.”

“Hold it right there! You need to hear this.”

“Huh?” The Mickmulvaney spun around. The Adamschiff appeared beside the Devilnunesmemo. The Adamschiff looked him up and down.

“What? Don’t think you can sit beside me and not escape my wrath, also known as My. Two. Cents.” He turned to the crowd. “I don’t regret calling out the T-Rump. Not for one nanosecond.”

The Kirstengillibrand scampered onto the stage.

“I want you all to know that the T-Rump is a toddler. A toddler who is melting down and making bad decisions. Bad decisions, everyone!”

The Seanhannity rose from his squat.

“Hey! Who let those two in here? Sorry, Mick. I’m not a journalist, so I’m not about to let our good dinos hear both sides of the story. Of any story.”

He nodded to a pair of big, burly Brontosauruses, who rumbled onto the scene and quickly dispatched with the two despised Donkeykongrus do-gooders.

The Mickmulvaney stepped back to the fore with an appreciative nod to the Seanhannity.

“Let the love-in continue. Devil, please. Go on.”

“Well, that was almost all I had to say. I hope I wasn’t too vague.”

“It was fine, Devil,” said the Mickmulvaney. “I’m sure the Seanhannity and company can mold it into fire and brimstone within the hour. You, uh … said you had something left to say?”

“Yes. I just want to add that, no, I am not having a cow and I wish dinos would stop comparing me to a cow because I will sue them for 250 million moolah-moolah again. And again. I learned from the best. The T-Rump. I don’t care if the cow is more popular than me. I really don’t. I’m not taking this personal. Because I am the Devilnunesmemo and – and … I do not have subpoena power! There I said it. Sad. So sad. But, lest we forget, the T-Rump is showing us great leadership. Just great. Where would we be without him?”

“Thank you, Devil. We have one more special guest, just back from her latest tour of the Great Tex-Mex Divide. Let’s hear it for the T-Rump’s and your favourite chief of Homeland Security, the Kirstjennielsen.”

Applause began, then paused as heads turned, trying to find her.

“Kirstjen? Has anyone seen Kirstjen?”

Satire The Trump Dig

Alarming and Significant …

The dino agent of the Muellersavus team lashed out with his tail, carving a crease in the rock wall.

“He’s a turncoat! A turkeysaurus! A traitor!”

“He’s the attorney general,” the Muellersavus reminded him.

The special counsel dino and two of his lead dino agents, the quick-tempered Deepthroater and the Tonytonsils cooled their heels, tails up in the late afternoon as rush-hour traffic passed by outside at a slow-moving Diplodocus pace.

“The Williambarr buried us boss,” the Tonytonsils chimed in. “He flat out ignored our summaries. He cherrypicked what he wanted to say because he’s the T-Rump’s dino. Bought and paid for. Where’s the justice? I have a b-a-a-a-d feeling about this.”

“Now, now, Tony. Don’t lose sight. I’m working with him on this — trying to, anyway — scrubbing the footprints so dinos at home will have something to see.”

“But we already did that — in our own summaries! All of them were good to go for any dino. He’s lying when he says every footprint needs to be scrubbed. He’s been pushing back since the day we finished our investigation. Now he’s just gone rogue. Every new footprint in the sand from him is a step in some crazy direction. He’s drunk with T-Rump power.”

“Justice will prevail,” the Muellersavus said reverently. “The Dino Nation demands it.”

Dinosaurs indeed had been gathering across the Milkanhoney Preservation, protesting en masse to see the Muellersavus’ report tout suite. Not a footprint here and a footprint there. All of it.

“I just hope it’s not too late,” said the Deepthroater. “I knew there was something wrong when he put out those four footprints in the sand. He took it upon himself to say the T-Rump didn’t obstruct justice. How would he know? He didn’t create the report. We did! Then he has the gall to add our note about the T-Rump not being exonerated. Like an afterthought. Not one derogatory detail!”

“Don’t forget the details he said were already public,” said the Tonytonsils. “As if that explains everything away. He got the jump on us, boss. It’s his word as the legal dino of the land, making the rounds at the local watering holes. He’s setting the tone, the public perception, after we busted our tails for two years finding the answers. All of them. Alarming and significant.”

The Muellersavus nodded.

“You’re right, Tony. Because you’re working with the facts. The truth. We laid it all out. Even as an independent dino counsel, I knew my decision would be viewed as political the moment I opened my mouth. I wanted the Kongrus Kave to make their own decision, just as they did decades ago with the Trickydickeroo.”

The Deepthroater spit on the floor.

“Instead, the Williambarr speaks of ‘evidence on both sides’ of obstruction. Both sides. Hah! The T-Rump has trained him so well, he’s quoting Charlottesville! We all saw this coming. The Williambarr’s 19 footprints in the sand, claiming the sanctity of the T-Rump’s actions was all he needed to get the job. After the Mattwhitaker, dinos would’ve settled for a pet rock.”

The Deepthroater snuck a peek at the Muellersavus.

“Sorry about talking out of school, boss. We haven’t said boo for 22 months. I just couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I mean, our job was done.”

“I understand, Deepthroat.”

“Say, boss?” It was the Tonytonsils.

“What is it?”

“Since we’re free now, can we do an investigation of the Huckabeecyclops? Huh? Please, boss. Just say the word. I hate that Huckabee. She’s so smug, soaking up every lie from the T-Rump like it’s her last appie. She says the Donkeykongrus are still upset about two years ago. Hell, I’m upset about two seconds ago. Forget the battle campaign. This isn’t about dino politics. This is about our way of life. Remember when we were decent, respectable dinos who stuck to our side of the food chain? Now everybody’s eating everybody. It’s just not right. Dinos don’t do this to one another.”

“No, they don’t,” said the Muellersavus, the stoic stalwart. “No they don’t.”

Satire The Trump Dig

Ethics with Mick …

A heavy rain swelled the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. Inside his cave, the smooth-skinned Jaketapper, a veteran, truth-seeking Mediacircustops, hunkered down with his guest, the Mickmulvaney. The T-Rump’s acting chief of staff was grinning as if his life depended on it. The Jaketapper made a mental note. Never trust a happy dino in the rain.

“Welcome, Mick. Any word on when you’ll be dropping the “acting” from your job title?”

“Look, before the T-Rump won, I called him a terrible dino, his actions on the Great Tex-Mex Divide absurd, almost childish and how he wouldn’t succeed in an ordinary universe. Now I’ve joined the Tedcruz and the Linseygraham as another successful T-Rump Assimilation.”

“Bully for you. Mick, this week the Adamschiff, chair dino with the Kongrus Kave Intelligence Committee ran down a list of some pretty damning incidents: the T-Rump Dump meeting with a Russian legal dino promising dirt on the Crookadillary, the Flynnhasbeen lying about his conversations with the Russodino ambassador, the Manaforta sharing battle campaign information. I couldn’t do his comments justice of course, so I invited him to step in and breathe life into this dark cave. Adam?”

On cue, the Adamschiff stepped out of the shadows. He glared at the Mickmulvaney.

“I don’t think it’s OK. I think It’s immoral, I think it’s unethical, I think it’s unpatriotic, and yes, I think it’s corrupt, and evidence of collusion. I do not think that conduct, criminal or not, is okay.”

“Thanks, Adam,” said the Jaketapper. “You can go now. Oh, and, before I forget. I just wanted to note your strength, fortitude and incredible patience.”

“For my speech?”

“No, for not giving the Devilnunesmemo a good tail-whip upside the head. He was sitting right beside you.”

The Adamschiff exited the cave and the Jaketapper turned to the Mickmulvaney.

“From what we know, the Muellersavus concluded there was not sufficient evidence for any criminal charges having to do with conspiracy or collusion with the Russodinos. But what do you think about his larger point that the actions were unethical?”

“Look, Adam and I go back a long way when we were both in the Kongrus Kave. But now, since the T-Rump called him a pencil-neck … I mean, he’s called dinos worse.”

“I’m talking about ethics on the Russodino matters.”

“Oh. Well, everything Adam said there was available to the Muellersavus.”

“And the entire Milkanhoney Preservation,” Jake interrupted.

“Look, the Muellersavus had much more information but he found no collusion and no obstruction.”

“You may be the chief of staff, but you’re not going to sit here and lie to me. The Muellersavus said the T-Rump was not exonerated on obstruction.”

“Oh, sorry. I was confusing the 380-footprint Muellersavus Report with the 4-footprint, all-encompassing Williambarr summary.”

“R-i-i-i-i-g-h-t. Not a crime but what about the ethics or morality of those incidents?”


“Why do you keep saying ‘look’?”

“The, uh … T-Rump said I needed to be angrier, to stand up to you Mediacircustops. Improve my image. I guess it’s not working, is it?”

“Afraid not. But you do want to stay acting chief of staff.”

“Thank you. Where were we?”

“Ethics and morality. Or lack thereof.”

“Jake, the issue here is not whether it’s ethical.”

“What?! Are you kidding me?”

“No. Look, the Adamschiff runs the Kongrus Kave Intelligence Committee. He gets to see a lot of stuff that the rest of us don’t. He has a huge responsibility not to be partisan. He has to look at the other dinos and say, look, I’ve seen a bunch of stuff, you haven’t seen it because you don’t get to, I do. Trust me, it says X, Y, Z.  Adam has lost the ability to do that.”

“Since when did ethics become partisan?”

“Since the Muellersavus gave us the all clear. You heard all the Grandoldparty dinos call upon Adam’s resignation this week. Look, there are some Democrats who simply can’t get over the fact that the T-Rump is the leader. I get that. And the Adamschiff is one of them. Enough is enough. Time to move on to health — still need a plan there.”

“Mick, All I’m saying here is that you’re setting the bar on criminal charges or evidence of conspiracy and let’s say I agree with you. But Adam’s talking about ethics and morality and you’re saying that’s not his job. Fair enough. But, forget the Adamschiff for a second. What about the larger point of ethics and morality?”

“Jake you’re putting far too much emphasis on this. You’ve seen the great work from the Devilnunesmemo for us, haven’t you. No ethics there, trust me.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. What happened to the ordinary universe you mentioned?”

“Long gone. At least until after the next battle campaign. Ethics are not the job of the Kongrus Kave Intelligence Committee.”

“Is it still their job to be intelligent?”

“They’re supposed to review the functioning of government. The dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation will make their own decisions on whether or not their dino reps need ethics and morals. We can’t have members of the Kongrus Kave substituting their own judgement for the dinos they represent.”

“Yet it’s okay for the dino attorney general, the Williambarr to substitute his own judgement when the Muellersavus didn’t offer one on the obstruction of justice?”

“The Williambarr did a fine job of soaking in the two years of Muellersavus’ work in two days. Look, Jake. Perhaps I can sum things up here.”


“When I first met the Garycohn I wanted to get noticed by the T-Rump by cutting dinos’ health and welfare. So I walked up to Gary and said, Hi, I’m a right-wing nutjob.”

“Thank you, acting chief of staff.”

Satire The Trump Dig

Not So Special …

The Dickydurbin of the Sin Hut Moolah-Moolah Committee stared across the flat rock at the Secretary of Education dino, the Betsydevos. She smiled at him with a grin that was awkwardly disarming. Was she expecting some kind of door prize? Undaunted, the Dickydurbin began his line of questioning.

“How’d you get this job again?”

“My father-in-law owns the Amway Archipelago — the chain of mud ponds that no dino can pass without taking a dip. And surely you’ve heard of my brother, the Erikprince? He was at that Seychelles-by-the-Seashore meeting, the one the Muellersavus was investigating? Call my crazy, but I believe there’s a link between those two things and my being here.”

“As to your being here, dino secretary, I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Did you just say you’re going to chase me?”

“It’s a cliché.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you personally approve the elimination of the 18 million moolah-moolah leaves from your budget to help the Special Dino Games?

“The budget process is a collaborative one. Coh-lab-or-a-tive. That’s my big word for the day. It’s been my responsibility to present the budget here. The T-Rump’s budget, you know. The big guy?

The Dickydurbin tapped the flat rock impatiently.

“I think a yes or no will do.”

“Well, I’m just the boss … which means I didn’t come close to being personally involved.”

“Alright. Whenever you figure out what exact role you played, you can give the delusional dino who made that decision a special dino games gold medal for Walnut Whacko.

The Betsydevos perked right up. A small fire inside made her smile flash a little brighter.

“Let’s not use disabled dinos in a twisted way for your political narrative. Um. That is just disgusting. And it’s shameful too.”

“No, your eliminating 18 million from a 68 billion moolah-moolah budget is shameful.”

“Did you say billion?”

“I did.”

“How many zeros is that?”

“Look, dino secretary, I’m not twisting it. I asked you to answer yes or no.”

“It’s not a yes or no answer.” Hmm, she thought to herself. She racked her wee brain. What is it that other Grandoldparty dinos do? Oh, right. Deflect. Distract. “Ahem, did I tell you about my favorite charter schools? They’re the wave of the future, you know.”

The Dickydurbin wasn’t buying it.

“You couldn’t even get this cut through when you controlled the Kongrus Kave and the Sin Hut!”

“I had to do something. Do you know how much spare time I have on my hands?”

“Dino secretary, do you understand this is a life-affirming event for many of these special dinos?”

“Of course I do. You’re describing an erupting volcano to a dino who has stumbled into a few. Don’t get me wrong. I love the Special Dino Games. I love its work. I’ve personally supported its mission. I think the Special Dino Games is an awesome event.”

“Do you know how many kids are going to be affected by this cut?”

“I have no idea. And no, I have not intentionally visited any of these games.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should. Say, is there something else you wanted to tell me to help me do my job better? You know, I never went to a public school. Or worked in one.”

“You may go now. Please. … Hurry. … I said, Leave.”

She trudged outside the cave and stopped dead in her tracks. The T-Rump stood there waiting for her. One look said he wasn’t here for a peck on the cheek.

“You know, normally I don’t ask this of the dinos in my cabinet. But … do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Sometimes. I mean, a little less than that.”

“I’m overriding you, Betsy.”

“Why, thank you. Where are we riding to?”