Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

Who’ll Stop the Pain? …

“Can the Tyrumposaurus read? Really, Kayleigh? I’m not talking context. I’m just talking about comprehending a complete sentence?”

The Kayleighmcenany tightly gripped the flat rock lectern with her short arms. She was doing her best to contain her anger at the Mediacircustops at their latest briefing. They were all slimy animals before her, every one of them, plodding this god-forsaken swampy terrain, only looking to snipe, slash and devour the dino beside them. She was too, but that was another matter. She focused her sweet-but-sinister eyes upon them.

“Listen to me, all of you. I’m only going to say this once. Yes, the T-Rump does read and he also consumes intelligence … whenever someone can get close enough to whisper in his ear. As long as they don’t say Russia. Or Moscow. Or Nyet, nyet, Soviet. No one, no one is going to tell us when we can or cannot whisper in his ear. He likes being whispered in his ear. It makes him feel important. Having said that, he is the most informed dino on the planet Earth when it comes to the threats we face. Okay, most of the threats. 99 percent of them. No Russia of course, because of that whispering-in-the-ear thing. Next question.”

The Jeremydiamond raised his short arm.

“So, just to confirm. The T-Rump didn’t get the Russodino bounty news in late February … then it actually was in his PDB — that is, Pointless Dithering Blather … but it didn’t rise to a serious enough level — even though it was classified as top-secret … and now it’s all a hoax. Did I get that right?”

“Almost. You’re forgetting the part where when we whisper the information into the T-Rump’s ear we say rutabaga instead of Russia. Rutabaga, okay? So he may be subconsciously aware of the bounty issue, that’s where I’m going to leave it. Next question.”

The Kaitlyncollins perked up.

“Does the T-Rump know that the Ghislainemaxwell has been apprehended? And if so, how worried is he? Is he running around with his skin on fire? Or is he yelling at the Williambarr? Which is it?”

“Hold it, hold it. Hold it!” It was the Johnfogerty. “Are we all forgetting that we are squatting here in the middle of the worst pandemic in a hundred years? Are we?”

The collective look on the Mediacircustops’ faces turned his way said they were certainly going to be getting to that eventually. The Johnfogerty shrugged, nodded cordially and launched into his song anyway.  


He calls it just an ember

This virus burnin’ down

But cases are still soarin’

The southern folk have found

On his make-shift stages

T-Rump thinks he’s the one

And he thunders, still he blunders

Who’ll stop the pain?


Can ya find it in ya

To accept this as the norm?

Genius not so stable

We watched his power grow

Still no plans and no deals

Trapped, we rack our brains

And he thunders, still he blunders

Who’ll stop the pain?


This game that he is playin’

It’s just for his encore

He controls the weather

With his latest storm

Still his hate is pourin’

Fillin’ in our fears

And he thunders, still he blunders

Who’ll stop the pain?


You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!

Humor Political Satire

T-Rump Never Knows …

“Hi, guys. How is everybody?”

“Who are you?” asked the Moscowmitch.

“What? Um, you know. The, uh … Johnbolton. Remember me?”

The dinos in the Sin Hut Cave rolled their eyes as one. The embarrassing welcome mat rolled up in Bolton’s face with a snap as the Moscowmitch, the Jimjordan and the Louiegohmert all stared in disbelief at the former dino security advisor. The Moscowmitch was in a positively biting mood.

“What the hell are you doing here?”  

“Well, as you remember, I didn’t spill the beans during the T-Rump’s impeachment. As a result, the Donkeykongrus dinos, they all hate me with a passion. Just because I wrote my memoirs about that, uh … last job I had. So there’s that.”

“You completely trashed the T-Rump!” snorted the Jimjordan. “How could you say all those horrible, terrible, nasty things about our divine leader?”

“We should just gobble you up and swallow you whole,” said the Louiegohmert. “And swallow your bones too, so there won’t be any left to bury.”

“Ha-ha. You’re joking, right?”

The sour puss on Gohmert’s mug said anything but.

“Guess you’re not. Aw, c’mon, guys, I was a good dino. I could’ve destroyed the Grandoldparty but I kept my mouth shut.”

“Hardly. You just put the world on pause so you could make us all look bad later, as you lined your nest with a big heaping pile of crisp, green moolah-moolah leaves,” said the Moscosmitch. “We know how you’re sleeping at night.”

“But you all sleep the same way. The Grandoldparty way. Grifting and lying and deceiving and stonewalling and denying and deflecting and projecting …”

“You’re preachin’ to the choir, Johnny,” growled the Jimjordan.

“So just shut the hell up,” finished the Louiegohmert. “You’re makin’ me feel guilty all of a sudden. Don’t know why. Ain’t no need to talk to you. We don’t need your damn memoirs part two.”

A light went on in the Johnbolton’s walnut dome.

“Well, if that’s the way it’s gotta be, I guess that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

“What, I say what are you talking about?” said a worried Moscowmitch. “Which scandal are you talking about?”

“Jeez, Mitch,” interrupted the Jimjordan. “I thought we were supposed to call them issues. Or fake news.”

The Moscowmitch stared him down and turned back to the Johnbolton.

“Which scandal, dammit.”

“Oh, well, we don’t need to go too far back in time. I mean, we are talking about the empty chair in the Oval Dwelling. If you’re thinking the latest conga line with the Putinodon and the Russodinos, you wouldn’t be far off. Crazy stuff. Can you believe it? The Putinodon giving the Taliban dinos moolah-moolah leaves to – to …. the thought of it just makes me want to lose my lunch. But alright then, if you dinos will be my friends, I’ll tell you. First, I just need to get off a couple of good roars to scare up the wildlife. To set the mood.”

So the Johnbolton roared twice, sufficiently scaring up said wildlife and effectively setting the mood. 


The T-Rump had the facts, as did his team 

Why are they lying?

About those dying?

A Putin plot, the bounties were deployed

It is defining

Morally blinding

So months ago, the meeting was within

We are seeing

We are seething


Moscow 2-9-1-5-5 hit-and-run

We all are knowing

Whose line he’s toeing

His ignorance, moreso his Russian dread

It is deceiving

It is demeaning

But missing is the courage of his team

They are not giving

So unforgiving

The ear of Putin he has yet to bend

In the headlining

T-Rump’s still whining

His polls declining

He’s still maligning

He’s still dividing

The silver lining?

Time for resigning


You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!