Categories
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!

Categories
Humor Political Satire

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 1250 & 1254

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-tpj9e-e151cc

The Kingston Trio and the Rolling Stones share their instrumental backdrop in this week’s two-fer of T-Rump Traxx: Day 1250 — “Where Have All the Trumpers Gone?” … The Okla-Tulsa clean-up raises a question or two … and Day 1254 — “(I Can’t Get No) Legal Action … The Aaronzelinsky braves a swampy hearing to air his grievances in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. … Enjoy!

Categories
Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

Back to Your Bunker …

“Okay, Stephen, battle plans. Where are we?”

The Stephenmiller grinned devilishly. Inwardly his evil heart did cartwheels through rings of fire as thoughts of indiscriminately tossing immigrant babies to land where they may danced in his head. He absolutely loved his job.

“Well, T-Rump. We’re still getting great mileage out of your, heh-heh … walk in the park. Because that’s what we need to call it.  All those dinos are protesting and you just took a walk in the park.”

“Ahem, T-Rump?”

“What is it, Milley?”

“I just want to say on that point, that I was out of line. I had no business being there. I want to apologize to the Dino Nation for politicizing my position. It, uh … seems I have morals after all.”

“Oh, stop it. I don’t care what your morals look like. Go put’em up on the damn wall.”

“Uh, sir?” It was the Markesper. “You mean murals.”

“Don’t you start with me, Esper. It’s you who got him going on this, wasn’t it? I don’t want you speaking to him any more.”

“But that’s my job.”

“I’ll tell you what’s in your job description. I make this up as I go. You’re already on thin ice. Well, double that. Double thin ice, that’s where you are. And Milley? Where does that leave you?”

“Uh, single thin ice?”

“Don’t get cute with me. Dog House. And you remember that for me because I don’t take notes, I don’t read, I just give the orders and … you two … oh, you two. Your days are numbered. And you can just keep guessing as to what day that is. I’ll get back to you on that. Don’t you worry. And do NOT forget to remind me. Damn generals. Can’t win with them. Can’t win without’em. Carry on, Stephen.”

“Ahem. I just want to say, I love it when you get mad, boss. It makes me want to lower migration levels. Where was I? Oh, yes. That 75-year-old dino from Buffalo-Shuffle, the, uh … Martingugino. Damn exotic species. He’s got a bad head wound from the authorities supposedly knocking him down, but the Antifasaurus angle and our domination theme is playing well with our base.”

“Good, dominate the jungle. And you call that a Buffalo shuffle? Are you kidding me? Worst Buffalo shuffle I’ve ever seen. Pure embellishment. The worst.” 

“Your trip to Dallas-Lone Star? I’ve lined up several black dinos. No radicals, I promise. And you’ll be discussing anything but race.”

“Excuse me, T-Rump?” It was the Bencarson. “I, um … I told the Jaketapper last week that you were going to make an announcement on … this, um … this race thing?”

“Oh you did, did you? Well, that’s what happens when you don’t speak to me first. Blindsided again. Dammit! What is with you dinos? How come I’m always the last to find out around here? You’re just lucky I don’t fire you all. It’s only because the Foxsquawkbox has told me they’re running short of dinos. I may have to ask the Hopehicksbagotrix if she has a cousin. Don’t tempt me. If you guys can’t stay on message then don’t give a message. Just shut up and walk away. All my senators are. How many times do I have to say it? Transparency is kryptonite. Stephen?”

“You’re gonna love this, T-Rump. Okla-Tulsa. I get chills just thinking about it.”

“Never heard of it. What’s so good about it?”

“We’ll schedule a rally there on Juneteenth.”

“What the hell is Juneteeth?”

“A big day for the black dinos. Get this, Okla-Tulsa had a big dino race riot a hundred years ago and there was death and destruction. Lots of death and destruction. On both sides. Wait, it gets better. The Mediacircustops will ask you to say something about the 300 black dinos that were killed there. We’ll tell them that with 1,000 dinos dying from Coronavirus every day now, when you think about it, well … 300 isn’t really so bad.”

“Good. That’s good, Stephen. What about the situation in Seattle-by-the-Sea? Did the dino mayor there listen to my advice and take back her region with brute force — big, dominating brute force — like I told her to?”

“Well, actually, she made the trip here to speak with you personally. Should I let her in?”

“Of course. Oh, you don’t have to leave. You’re all welcome to stay and listen to her grovel. I love the groveling part.”

The Seattle-by-the-Sea dino mayor, the Jennydurkan, entered the Oval Dwelling. A beetle on the wall busied his antennae, beating an imaginary drum in the air.

 

 

Chewin’ on your silly tweet that came to me

Did you even sleep last night?

Gotta say, your finger wag, was that at me?

You’re just looking for a fight

Go back to your bunker

You don’t know how yucky you are, boy

Back to your bunker

Coronavirus runnin’ right thru this place

We should all be stayin’ home

Except you keep ignorin’ facts in your face

Man, you need to change your tone

Go back to your bunker

You don’t know how yucky you are, boy

Back to your, back to your, back to your bunker

 

Well, the Georgefloyd death really knocked you out

You left your heart behind

But most the folks, gonna sing and shout

You gone an’ lost your my-my-my-my-my-my-my-mind.

 

Go back to your bunker

You don’t know how yucky you are, boy

Back to your bunker

Well, the Georgefloyd death really knocked you out

You left your heart behind

But most the folks, gonna sing and shout

You gone an’ lost your my-my-my-my-my-my-my-mind.

 

Show me where it says you push an old man down

Take the blame, you caused the harm

Can you hear the many voices ringing out? 

A nation sounds the alarm

Go back to your bunker

You don’t know how yucky you are, boy

Back to your bunker

 

………………………………

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!

Categories
Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

Get Back …

It was a long march, but a happy march. A long line of dinos heading for the always pretty, never-less-than sun-baked beaches of the nirvana-inducing Neverglades. The trip was not only an annual pilgrimage, but a guilty privilege for many of the Sheepsheadsbayrae, the Flushingqueenserae, the Throgsneckerae, and so many more dinos making their way south from the cold, shivering Big Apple Orchard to the distant north. The chilly climes thawed in their memories with each ground-shaking step.

“Stop right there!”

The plodding dinos came to a halt, looking up at the grim-faced dino before them. They recognized him immediately as one of the T-Rump’s most devout, foot-licking sycophants, the Neverglades governing dino, the Rondesantis. A leather-lunged Bedfordstyerus in the large dino pack stepped forward. His pint-sized stature pointed to the predominant Joepescirus family species in his lineage.

“Hey, what’s da hold-up? I gotta date wit’ da beach!”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” said the governor.

“Why? Did ya move it? Hah!” the Bedfordstyerus turned to his pals. “Da Desantis here is playin’ hide’n seek wit’ da beach”

The Big Apple Orchard dinos chuckled heartily.

“Ahem. I’m afraid this is no laughing matter.”

“Oh, so we’s can’t laugh now, is dat it? Who died and made you king dino?”

“Well, if you must know, I just spoke with the T-Rump yesterday.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell us how dat went. Just one t’ing, dough. How do dem feet taste? Huh?”

The Bedfordstyerus spit on the ground before the Rondesantis.

“Like dat? … Is dat how dey taste?”

“Actually I, uh … I don’t lick his feet any more.”

“Oh ya don’t, do ya? And why’s dat?”

The Rondesantis was too embarrassed to admit he’d graduated among the T-Rump’s cronies to become an A-List tail-licker. Because without the T-Rump’s backing, the Rondesantis would be just another dodgy dino wary of the incoming tide at Miami Reach.

“Uh, that’s not why I’m here. I am here to let you know that you are no longer, ahem … welcome in these parts.”

“Whaddaya mean not welcome? We been trekkin’ down to da beach here fuh years.”

“Well, that was all fine and dandy … once upon a time. But things are different now.”

The Bedfordstyerus turns to his buddies.

“Dude says t’ings are different. I don’t know. T’ings look da same to me. How ‘bout you?”

Nods all around. Which brought all eyes back upon the Rondesantis. The Bedfordstyerus frowned at him.

“C’mon, spit it out. What exactly is it you’re tryin’ to tell us?”

The Rondesantis found the gumption to stick out his jaw and say …

“Well, I’d like you to … I’d like you to … get back.”

“Hah! Get back? You’s funny like a clown. Whatta maroon! Fuhgeddabout it!”

But the Desantis stood his ground, stomped his feet to some far-off beat and delivered his full-throated message.

 

Cuomo is a thin skin, caught him as a moaner

Cuz he hoped this wouldn’t last

Cuomo said you could go south from the Corona

For the Neverglades en masse

 

Get back, get back

Get back, we need our short arms strong

Get back, get back

Get back to join your Brooklyn throng

Get back, Cuomo!

 

Go home

Get back, get back

Get back, we need our short arms strong

Get back, get back

Back to join your Brooklyn throng

Get back, Yo!

 

Sweet Letitia James thought she could nab T-Rump

But then really, no one can

All the dinos round here knows he will be comin’

He’s the only one who can

 

Oh, get back, get back

Get back, we need our short arms strong

Get back, get back

Get back, to join your Brooklyn throng

Get back, Letitia!

 

Go home

Oh, get back, get back

Get back, we need our short arms strong

Get back, get back

Get back to join your Brooklyn throng

 

Get back

Woo …

 

“Thanks, Yo. I’d like to say thank you on behalf of the Neverglades and remind you that you’re 900 miles from home. See ya!”

………………………………

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!

Categories
Humor Political Satire

Revolution …

A revolution was sweeping Dino Nation. The first three battlegrounds of the spring-summer campaign before the November Battle Royale had come and gone. History had been made. The Berniesanders had done something no dino had ever done before. Besides being trapped in amber for 99 million years. But that’s only how Bernie felt. He had triumphed in the Iowa Corn-cob-us, the Newhamp Shires and most recently the Reno-Keno Ruckus. It appeared that after being thrown under the Priebusunderbus four years earlier by the Crookadillary, it was finally Bernie’s time to come out. Time for his revolution.  

The Reno-Keno Ruckus had been especially gratifying. Dinosaurs of all stripes and colors, from all dino demographics, had come out to support him, proving the 78-year-old dino was not a one-species specialist. They all loved Bernie. Unlike the scrappy Donkeykongrus dinos competing for dino leadership. They’d once numbered in the twenties but were now down to single digits. Of those remaining, the Elizabethwarren had peeled away from him to lambaste every dino in site. The Buddhajudge pleaded with dinos not to fall for Bernie and his too-much, too-soon beastly social dino trap. The Michaelbloomberg had called Bernie a Commiedino but dinos with their feet on the ground knew better.

All these attacks fell by the wayside as Bernie’s message resonated with dinos who for too long had felt left behind in that wayside gully dinos referred to grimly as the Long, Long Lurch

Bernie stepped to the flat rock lectern to address his volunteers, his followers and his appetizer hunting crew. Every dino loved appies. He smiled out at the dino multitude contentedly licking their lips of some salty Salamander-Iguana fresh kill. Bernie stared his get-busy stare and raised a hand holding a short branch.

“I’ve got news for the Grandoldparty establishment. I’ve got news for the Donkeykongrus establishment. They can’t stop us!”

He dropped the branch. That was it. A branch drop. That was all it took. 

The dinos before him rose as one. A hush spread over the audience. Then came a rustling and a rising of voices, chanting, “Not me. Us. … Not me. Us. … Not me. Us.” It was a movement of many coming to fruition. To take back their beloved Milkanhoney Preservation from the T-Rump. Tails began banging against the nearest solid object and dino roars erupted heartily into their new anthem. Their calling. Their raison d’etre.

So Bernie’s got a revolution

Well, he knows

He’s all set to change the world

He cannot wait for evolution

Well, he knows

Fossil fuels will kill the world

The time is now for the election

Bernie will surely get the vote out

Don’t you know you feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

For health he has the real solution

Well, he knows

It’s not another T-Rump scam

The rich must make their contribution

Well, he knows

They should give more than we can

But isn’t it funny Nevada showed us how great

Bernie is one of us, you cannot wait

Don’t you know you feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

He will wipe out the destitution

Well, he knows

You need a bed for your head

And what about the institutions?

Well, he knows

The ones T-Rump has left for dead

So if you are tired of pictures of Nunes’ cow 

You can turn to Bernie and take this vow 

Don’t you know you feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

Feel the Bern! Alright

………………………………

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!

Categories
Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 1110 & 1114

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-nxkqs-d2df2e

This week’s two T-Rump traxx include: Day 1110 — “T-Rumper” … The T-Rump’s henchmen sing it out, loud and clear … and Day 1114 — “Rip It Up” … The Nancypelosi, per usual, being her fabulous self. Enjoy. Sit back and sing those T-Rump blues away!

Categories
Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

T-Rumper …

The Grandoldparty Sin Hut dinos looked at one another in the Sin Hut Caper-Cave, a private setting off from the main chamber where they could grin their greasy grins at one another and count their lucky twinkling things in the sky that they had actually pulled it off. A “No” vote of 51-49 had barely carried the day to not allow dino witnesses or any evidence into the Sin Hit’s impeachment trial of their esteemed leader, the Tyrumposaurus. The Marcorubio raised a hand.

“What we accomplished today we can be very proud of. I managed to say with a straight face that even though they had the goods on the T-Rump and they met the level of impeachment, it just isn’t in the best interest of removing the T-Rump because we already have a divided Dino Nation, a division largely caused by the T-Rump himself.”

The other dinos in the cave looked at him blankly, unsure if every time he opened his mouth he wasn’t actually making things worse.

“Ahem,” said the Joniernst. “I don’t want to put too fine a point on it because every time I veer from the T-Rump calling his conversation with the Zelensky the ‘perfect call’ I run the risk of him ripping me to shreds. So I’ll just say that maybe what he did was wrong. Oops, too strong a word. Improper. Let’s go with improper — for him to be seeking dirt from a foreign dino for his own personal gain. And his penalty? Perhaps just a slap on the wrist. A little slap.”

She made like she was brushing a fly off her arm for emphasis. Not a big fly. A little one.

“You got that right, Joni,” said the Lamaralexander. “Improper. I like that. Not too brazen. An after thought almost. Like burping at the side of a carcass. There is no way it rises to the level of high crimes and misdemeanors. Who even knows what those are, anyway?”

Shrugs all around.

“Because we know the T-Rump would never do those things. Therefore, in the interest of all of us keeping our jobs in the Sin Hut, we must agree to never dig further, okay?”

Nods from every dino. The Lisamurkowski raised her hand.

“Um … I just want to point out that I’m all set to go out there and defend my decision to not have witnesses and evidence because this whole process set up by the Kongrus Kave was a disaster from the start. There was never a chance that we were going to have a fair trial in the Sin Hut. It was their fault. Only theirs. Is everyone okay with that?”

The other dinos puzzled.

“Well,” said the Lamaralexander, “we are the Sin Hut. That makes us superior. We don’t have to explain our actions to the lowly Kongrus Kave. Blame everything on them. Partisanship is all their fault.”

With that the Sin Hut dinos adjourned their tail wagging and exited the cave, right into the path of the Tyrumposaurus.

“Well, well, what are you doing for me now? What do you have to say that will be music to my ears? Anything. Hurry up. I need praise, glorification and gratification. Instant, you know. Be quick about it.” 

Fortunately they were. A Sin Hut dino always had to be ready for whatever bizarre mood the T-Rump thrust upon them. The Marcorubio held up his hand. The others watched as his tail twitched, then began slapping the ground, counting them all into an old Beatlemaniac’s number, a number they knew by heart.

 

Got a good reason for taking the easy way out

On his impeachment, I’m taking the easy way out now

I am a T-Rumper, a phony crony yeah

And it was so wrong to bow out, and I bowed out

 

I’m not uneasy, he told me to never care

I’m a bit sleazy, he told me to touch his hair now

I am a T-Rumper, a corrupt cohort yeah

And it was so wrong to sell out, and I sold out

 

Tried to please him, he only called me bad names

Lied to please him, he only picked me to blame now

I am a T-Rumper, a stumbling crumb-bum yeah

It took me so long to get in, and now I’m out

 

T-Rumper

T-Rumper, yeah

T-Rumper

T-Rumper, yeah

T-Rumper

………………………………

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!