Category: The Trump Dig

A hopeful Kushneratops looked across the flat rock table at the Saudisaurus crown prince. The prince was addressed as Embee-Yes by special decree, given that every Saudisaurae dino and the Tyrumposaurus’ senior adviser had to agree with him. Embee-Yes had the Kushneratops’  bony tail firmly secured under his left foot.

“Ahem, Embee-Yes?”

“What is it?”

“I know our top secret deal is complete …”

“You mean the one your father-in-law overruled his experts so you’d have clearance? That is why you snuck back in here. Don’t grovel. Pay attention if you want to learn something about the Middle Eastlands.”

“Of course, your excellency, but the real reason I came back is because …”

The crown prince frowned at the skinny, weak-kneed dino before him.

“Well, out with it.”

“I – I was wondering if we could do a … high-five? You know, like the one you did with the Putinodon?”

Embee-Yes put a claw to his lips to stifle a laugh. How naive this Kushneratops klutz. Unable to realize the high-five in question was at his expense.

There was a sudden commotion outside, some dino yelps and nasty assertions to ancestry. The Qatarsaurus burst into the cave, followed by the crown prince’s dino guard in hot pursuit.

“How’d you get in here?!” boomed the Embee-Yes. The crown prince didn’t wait for an answer. He shot a look to his guard, quaking nearby with a horrified look on his face.

“Should I go Khashoggi on him, boss?”

Embee-Yes winced and turned to the Kushneratops, who waved it off with a swipe of his short arm.

“Didn’t hear a thing. Not a word.”

The crown prince motioned for the guard to wait outside and turned his attention back to the Qatarsaurus.

“To what do I owe this visit from the terrorist next door?”

“My dinos are not terrorists. This is the fake news you feed to the T-Rump. I’m here because I’m onto you. You blame us. You hate us. You used us!”

Embee-Yes yawned.

“Such is life in the Middle Eastlands.”

This only angered the Qatarsaurus more. Nostrils flaring, phlegm dripping, he had only just begun.

“We own 9 percent of Brookfield. We put a lot of moolah-moolah in there. We had no idea they were going to go and bail you out.”

He glared at the Kushneratops. Indeed, Brookfield a global dino cave investor, had rescued the Kushneratops who was in debt up to his eyeballs by paying 1 billion moolah-moolah leaves up front for a 99-year lease on the Kushnertops’ Manhatinhand cave. After all, every dino thought they were going to live one hundred years.

“What’s more …”

“I’m not sure I’m up for a ‘what’s more’ today,” said Embee-Yes. “There’s nothing I hate more than a dino who can think.”

Undaunted, the Qatarsaurus continued.

“Brookfield owns Westinghouse … breeding grounds for the dangerous Nuclearreactor. You know it’s only a matter of time before they have a Nuclearballisticus running around. This deal has been going on since the T-Rump came to power. The Flynnhasbeen was working on it. Why, only last month the T-Rump was meeting with you on this, wasn’t he?”

The white-faced Kushneratops was caught off guard. Think fast. Think like the T-Rump. Any response will do.

“Well, uh … the good crown prince here would then just go and get a Nuclearballisticus from the Russodinos or the Gaypareeweewee, wouldn’t you?”

Embee-Yes gave a whatcha-gonna-do shrug. The Qatarsaurus wasn’t buying it.

“You think you’re going to get away with this, don’t you? Both of you. You’re not because it makes no sense. It’s insane! The T-Rump says no to the Kimjongadon but it’s okay for you to have a Nuclearballisticus, another weapon to go with your Bonesawtooth dino.”

The crown prince flinched at the comment. The Qatarsaurus looked down his snout at the Kushneratops.

“When the Donkeykongrus gets through with you, you won’t have security clearance to dip your toes in your wife’s mud bath. That reminds me, why exactly does the Tyvanka need security clearance?”

“Because she’s … daddy’s girl?”

The still night was broken by the dull roar of the dinosaur snore outside the small hamlet of Straightforward-up-to-Heaven. The droning, dozing dino was the Jerrynadler, lead tail wagger on the Kongrus Kave investigative committee. The future of Dino Nation weighed heavily upon his wee mind. A mind that couldn’t shake the spear of a thought that suddenly pierced his wake-the-neighborhood slumber. He began talking in his sleep …

To impeach or overreach; that is the question

Whether ‘tis wiser in the walnut to pounce upon

The titanic untruths of a T-Rump tyranny

Or suffer the security-cleared sycophants

And by securing them, expose them? To overreach: to beseech;

No more; and by a speech to say we shed light

On this plight, this blight of billions of moolah-moolah kept from sight

That the T-Rump is heir to, ‘tis an abomination

Devoutly to be ditched. To speak, to leak;

To leak: perchance to snub: ay, there’s the club

For in that leak of stealth, such insurance wealth!

When 81 slither off as true snake oil,

Must give us pause as the Michaelcohen ‘hind closed door

That makes the Manaforta a manifest mess

For who would bear Huckabee’s huckster B.S.

The Kellyanne alt-fact, her proud man’s prompt redact

The Stormy pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns, the spurns! — from Hopehixbagotrix

That patient merit that MeToo Time’s Up takes,

And I, myself might my quietus make

Or the Rudygiuliani, whom fools still bear yet I forsake

His grunt, his sweat, his merry strife

But that the T-Rump sneer, his leer after overreach

His future detour from whose chasm

All dinos spasm, shrivels the schnizzle

And makes us rather bear the Putinodon

The crown prince and the Kimjongadon?

This new normal bringing tail betwixt bowed legs

And thus the Mitchgetbacktowork confusion

Constrained to the Stephenmillerus sick, sick thought

And enterprises of greatest, ghoulish oligarchs

With the Kushneratops, our everything expert turned awry

Yon abyss his experience.–Soft you now!

The fair Justice! Prevail, in thy horizons

Be all the T-Rump’s sins remember’d.

A faint smile crossed the Jerrynadler’s face, he smacked his lips and rolled over, his dull roar snore reclaiming the night.

The CPAC venue buzzed with half-truths, hyperbole and dinosaur gas lighting that would make you faint. The raucous rhetoric left many a dino wondering what the Grandoldparty strategy even was. And so began the annual Captive Puppets Anonymous Conference. With a devilish smirk and flick of his slick orange tail, the Tyrumposaurus shuffled onto the rock slab stage.

“Greetings, my fellow right-wing, isolationist, nationalist dino hardliners. Now I know last week was an epically bad one. But look at the bright side. At least the Muellersavus didn’t release his footprints in the sand. Not that I’m worried about that. You all know I can talk my way out of anything, right?

“Anything you say, T-Rump!” one leather lung shouted back.

“So now we’re waiting for these footprints in the sand and then we’ll find out who we’re dealing with. I’ll tell you. Dinos that weren’t even elected. They can’t be trusted. Sure I picked them. Never happen again because the answer is right in front of me.”

“You mean … us?” said one slack-jawed dino.

“No. Nepotism. Because you can’t pick them. They’re family. But back to the problem. So you put the wrong dinos in a couple of positions, they shouldn’t be there and … BOOM! … they’re trying to take you out with bull crap! Bull crappity, crap-crap! That felt good. Bull crap crap bull crap. Now then, where was I?”

“Uh … the Muellersavus?” came a voice from the crowd.

“Right. So the Muellersavus is running around totally unchecked, his dinos are stacked against me. They’re the 13 angriest dinos in the history of the Trumpassic Period. Are you sure none of them was involved with the Crookadillary Foundation? Because I’m saying I think one of them was running it. Why? Because I said so. Another one, I can’t say who, but I’ll tell you this dino has the worst reputation of any dino in this period. Period. He’s a killer. Oh, he may be a herbivore but he’s a killer.”

“But you know whose fault this really is? Of course you do, my captive audience. Whose fault is it?!”

“The Sessionsopossum! Why did he recuse himself?!” the crowd roared back as one. “Why the hell didn’t he tell you?!”

“Exactly. Because the Langleyops have it out for me. They hate me. It used to be called obstruction. Except we know what they call it now, don’t we?”

“Ob-Trump-shun!” the dinos hollered back.

“I can’t do anything without the Mediacircustops screaming, Ob-Trump-shun! … It doesn’t help that the Muellersavus and the Comeyonus are best friends. Oh, sure, the Comeyonus says he and the Muellersavus are not. But seriously. Who’s going to know better who the Comeyonus’ best friends are? Me or the Comeyonus?

“You, T-Rump!” the crowd shouted back.

“Thank you, my poor, put-upon puppets. In fact, I remember it all now as if it happened yesterday. I was with the Tymelania and I said, Tymelania, I’m doing something today. And she told me, you don’t have to rub it in. And I said, no, really, I’m going to do it. She heard me. She just said, be best. So I fired the Comeyonus because that’s the best I could do.”

“Speaking of best, this week I just completed the T-T-T. That’s the T-Rump Tyrant Trifecta.”

“O-o-o-o-o-h, A-a-a-a-a-h,” came the chorus from the crowd.

“I threw my Langleyops under the Priebusunderbus three times before three great leaders. The mighty Putinodon in Smelstinki, the crown prince dino regarding the Khashoggi affair and finally the Kimjongadon regarding the Ottowarmbier. They were all horrible decisions, but I came out on the right side on all of them. Thank you.”

“Way to go, T-Rump!” the crowd cheered.

“I have the Mikepompeo out there now, telling every dino that Pingpong North was not a stalemate. I actually let the Kimjongadon win. Like when I stay at home in the cave on the weekend with the Tymelania instead of going out.”

A wave of sympathy swept over the crowd at this perceived injustice. The T-Rump continued for another hour, going on about the authorities requesting evidence from his son and the Weisselberg about his family business, about the T-Rump’s role in not forcing through Kushneratops’ security clearance when he had every right to and how the T-Rump would be stomping down with his first veto to save the Great Tex-Mex Divide because even though most dinos didn’t think it was a national emergency, it most certainly was.

It was a groundswell of support that only picked up speed when the T-Rump promised more good news.

“I’m going to promote free speech at every dino place of higher learning. Except of course, for the Mediacircustops.”

There was bedlam. Dinos danced in the aisles. Visions of greed and grandeur raced around their walnuts, making them giddy. So much so, the T-Rump Jr. jumped atop a rock ledge, wildly waving his short arms.

“Let them see the Muellersavus footprints in the sand! We don’t care! Let them see all of it!”

The T-Rump frowned. Damn nepotism.

The Kongrus Kave Overbite Committee had been in session for hours. It was a public display of gnashing teeth, missing molars and political pandemonium not seen since the Watergate Strait when the Trickydickosaurus flashed a pair of two-claw victory salutes before retiring into his cave a defeated, disgraced dino crook.

After being the Tyrumposaurus’ legal dino and face-chewing fixer for a decade, the Michaelcohen was finally coming clean. There would be no more blind loyalty or lying for him, not if he wanted to spend more than the three years already due him in the Solitary Sinkhole.

“They’re calling you a pathological liar, Cohen,” said the dino chair, the Elijahcummings. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Oh, no, dino chair. I have proof. Lots of it. The Mediacircustops called it a treasure trove. A treasure for the Donkeykongrus, I suspect.”

“We’re waiting.”

The Michaelcohen held up a handful of leafy dino currency. Moolah-moolah.

“This moolah-moolah has the T-Rump’s footprints all over it. Here, see?”

There were oohs and aahs from the crowd at the unmistakable three-letter mark his claws left for all to see. I. O. U.

“Black Bamahama Dino!”

The shout came from the other side of the meeting. The Markmeadows pointed behind him. Indeed there was a female Black Bamahama Dino squatting right behind him.

“This rare sighting,” the Markmeadows said, “goes to show you that the T-Rump is not racist. Now, some dinos may think this act alone is racist, but I just want to remind everyone that I no longer support all those times I said the Obamasaurus ought to head back to Kuntay-Kenya. We’re still good ol’ buddy dinos, aren’t we, Elijah?”

The Elijahcummings scrunched his eyes and sniffed his sniffer. Political pollution. That’s what this was.

“I was saving my ‘we can be better this speech’ for later, so I’ll just say this, Mark. I know you can be better.” He turned to the Michaelcohen. “What else do you have to shed that baked-in, lyin’ skin look?”

“I remember it like yesterday. The T-Rump talking with the Rogerstone who was in contact with the Julianassange and the dreaded Wikileakibeak. I don’t know about collusion but let’s not forget the golden rule.”

“The Muellersavus knows more than all of us,” the Elijahcummings said with a sigh.

“I’ve got it! Hold it! Hold it right there!”

It was the Jimjordan. He was an albino dino with predominantly white skin who stood out in the crowd, his raucous rhetoric notwithstanding.

“The Michaelcohen has perjured himself! Perjured himself in plain sight before us. And on something that is so important, so consequential that surely it must’ve impacted the reign of the Obamasaurus.”

“And what would that be?” asked the Elijahcummings.

“Before this meeting, the Mediacircustops reported that the Michaelcohen was upset about not getting a job inside the Oval Dwelling. Well, it just occurred to me, perhaps because of my albino temperament, that half an hour ago the Michaelcohen said he didn’t want to be in the Oval Dwelling. I mean, come on! This is incredible. 20 years, next case!”

Some day we’ll get back the Sin Hut, thought the Elijahcummings. Some day soon.

“Cohen, who’s the next dino in the T-Rump circle for whom we’ll be setting up the latest greatest investigation? What are we up to now? 18?”

“Again I request a brief moment to make a fool of myself,” said the Markmeadows. “Anything to monkey-up this charade. Oops, did I say that?”

“Denied.”

“Can I give my time to the Mattgaetz?”

“No. Go ahead, Cohen.”

“Thank you, dino chair. I just thought it worth noting that the Felixsater, a dino who was up to his little elbows in Russodinos and Mafiasaurae, had a cave on the same level as the T-Rump in the T-Rump Dump. There’s a good place to start.”

“Before we do that, my good dino friend.” It was the Clayhiggins, a morose Nawlins dino who was known to snap. “When the Langleyops went through your three caves looking for evidence, they took it and later gave it back to you. Is that right, my good dino?”

“Uh … yes.”

“And then you found some moolah-moolah with the T-Rump’s mark. Isn’t that right?”

“His I-O-U’s are everywhere.”

“Don’t humor me. I can only be coy. I find it highly irregular you didn’t give it back.”

“Because they already had it?”

“Yours is a feeble attempt at interrupting my five minutes here. Five minutes I’ve spent weeks preparing for just to disrupt your testimony, my good dino.”

“No, Clay. You’re the feeble dino.”

The Michaelcohen rose from his squat and pointed at the combative trio of Grandoldparty dinos. “I did the same thing that you’re doing now for 10 years. I protected the Tyrumposaurus for 10 years. I can only warn you — the more dinos that follow the T-Rump, as I did blindly, are going to suffer the same consequences that I’m suffering.”

Meanwhile, down the path, around the corner and on the other side of Patagonia, the T-Rump and the Kimjongadon squatted beside each other in Hoo-boy, Vietqualm. They were alone, the Mediacircustops having left long ago, detecting it was nothing more than Meet’n Greet II.

“Yoo-hoo!” said the T-Rump. “Mediacircustops! Look, I’m shaking the hand of the Kimjongadon. Again! Watch us. You can tell your children about it. About me.”

The Kimjongadon pulled his hand back.

“Uh, what exactly are we accomplishing here?”

“I don’t know. I was just waiting for something to, you know … happen.”

The Kimjongadon looked around. One of his dinos sprinted across the yard for show.

“Nothing’s happening. Except in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.”

“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “Did the Putinodon tell you?”

“Well, we both know.”

“Of course. Even before me. Great. Uh, what is it?”

“The Donkeykongrus are investigating your family. Your Tyvanka.”

“A-a-a-a-c-k!”

The T-Rump jumped from his squat.

“Gotta go. Keep in touch.”

He broke into a run, crying over his shoulder.

“I still love you.”