Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Reign in Ukraine Stays Mainly Insane …

It was the promise heard round the world. The Whistleblower dino controversy with the Ukraine Plain continued to plague the Oval Dwelling. The Tyrumposaurus had sent out several fleets of Trollertweeties to rake the countryside with his ever-changing side of the story but this latest scandal was a month’s worth of debacles rolled into one. It needed reinforcements badly. Some Grandoldparty dino had to go mainstream. That is, visit with the Mediacircustops to defend the T-Rump come hell or high swamp water.

The T-Rump surveyed his cast of cronies in the Oval Dwelling. Should he send in the Stephenmillerus? No. Better to keep his fire and fury focused on dino migration. Controlled chaos as it were. What about the Rudygiuliani? Lately, he’d broken his own record by contradicting himself in four seconds flat. No, this called for a dino who could just squat there, play dumb and pull it off without even trying.

“Steven! Get out there and … don’t say anything!” 

That was how the Stevenmnuchin came to be squatting across from the Jaketapper. The Secretary Dino of Moolah-Moolah stared straight ahead, his jaw set, his lips tight. It was a convincing simple stooge look. His determination spoke volumes however. He was ready to sell out his own mother and hers too if necessary to save the T-Rump. That was the great mystique of the all-mighty moolah-moolah leaf.

“Steven,” began the Jaketapper, “I just want to start by asking, were you there when the T-Rump was pressuring the Zelensky to investigate the Joebiden’s son?”

“I, uh … was not there. But I’ve been in on many other T-Rump conversations with plenty of other dinos. All squeaky clean. All listening in. No issues whatsoever. Because of course the T-Rump never has issues with anything.”

“O-k-a-a-a-y. Not going down that rabbit hole. In those other conversations you were privy to, would it be common for the T-Rump to pressure foreign leaders to investigate political rivals here in the Milkanhoney Preservation?

“This week? Uh … no. You’re just speculating now. They’re just two foreign leaders having a confidential conversation. But the much bigger issue here is that the Joebiden said this weekend he didn’t have a business conversation with his son while — incredibly — his son said they had.”

“The story goes,” said the Jaketapper, “that all the Joebiden said was, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Aha! So what was he doing?”

“Not much. The Ukraine Plain dinos looked into the situation and found nothing. Moving right along, you said it’s speculation but two prominent Mediacircustops report that a Whistleblower dino was trying to bring his urgent, credible complaint to the Kongrus Kave … and just as a general premise, is it okay for any dino leader to hold hundreds of millions of moolah-moolah leaves over the head of a foreign leader to dig up dirt on a political rival. Is that acceptable?

“Speculation is such a wonderful word, isn’t it? I plan to use it often. Because that’s what you’re doing, Jake. I’m sorry. You’re sadly mistaken. The T-Rump just isn’t the type of dino to use pressure.”

“The T-Rump brought up the Joebiden issue eight times.”

“Speculation. Ahem. Pure speculation.”

“It’s not speculation. We’re talking prominent Mediacircustops reporting this. The Washingtonpostian and the Wallstreetjournalus.”

“So, everything they say we should assume is always factual?”

“Why not? They only report the facts. The T-Rump. The Zelensky. The Ukraine Plain. 250 million moolah-moolah leaves. Joebiden dirt. Where did we lose you?” 

The Stevenmnuchin blinked the blink of dumbfoundedness. Naturally. The Jaketapper continued.

“How many times did the T-Rump raise the Joebiden issue?”

“I find it interesting that with everything else going on in the dino world, including the Lewandowski graciously appearing at the hearing … and the dancing Seanspicer — don’t forget the dancing Seanspicer — why is there is so much interest in this story?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because if it’s true, it’s an abuse of power and an impeachable offense?”

“Excuse me, I really need to deflect here. Dinos were worried, I was worried about the Joebiden’s son in the Ukraine Plain and what he was up to. Frankly, I couldn’t sleep at night.”

“Deflection time out.” The Jaketapper held up a short arm. “Back to the real news, the Whistleblower wants to bring his complaint to the Kongrus Kave and the Oval Dwelling is preventing that. If there really is nothing there, why not let the dinos that are allowed to see the complaint, see it?”

“I think that would be a terrible precedent.”

“Excuse me? Stopping the T-Rump from putting his own selfish desires before the dino nation’s interests? The T-Rump took an oath.”

“Conversations between political dinos are meant to be confidential.”

“Unless there’s a crime.”

“If every time someone for political reasons raised a question …”

“This issue was not about policy. It was fraud, bribery, extortion. Pick one.”

The wheels in the Stevenmnuchin’s walnut turned slowly. Deny. Deflection. Distraction. Delay. The 4D T-Rump Defense in action. He finally found his voice.

“Can we talk about the maximum pressure campaign?”

“We are.”

“I mean the Iranasaurae.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m going to stay here all night until you cave and answer my question. The Milkanhoney Preservation dinos want an answer. Is it the position of the T-Rump to pressure foreign dino leaders to investigate their political rivals because that is what alarms a lot of dinos. And if you say speculation one more time I will bite you.”

The Stevenmnuchin was surprisingly firm.

“The T-Rump said I could say speculation as often as I needed to. This was a congratulatory call. You know how long it took us to find something for the Zelensky to congratulate the T-Rump on? By the way, this isn’t the first time the T-Rump’s been attacked and things have turned out to be incorrect.”

“Incorrect? You mean dozens of attacks the T-Rump is fighting in the dino courts or stonewalling so they don’t see the light of day?” 

The Stevenmnuchin gulped. Quick. Distract.

“The T-Rump will be meeting next week with the Zelensky.”

“Will you be there?”

“If the T-Rump thinks I saved his butt with you today, then yes, I expect to be at that meeting.”

“If the T-Rump brings up his desire, which he will, to have the Zelensky investigate the Joebiden, perhaps for that other 140 million moolah-moolah leaves flying around … will you jump up and down, wave your arms and tell him he is breaking his oath of office and committing a high crime for which he can be impeached? Will you?”

“My conversations with the T-Rump are confidential.”

“He’s not talking to you. News flash. He doesn’t listen to you. He doesn’t listen to anybody. He’s talking to the Zelensky.”

The Stevenmnuchin withdrew into the warm exile of his faux-dino cocoon, a coping mechanism his dino doc had recommended he succumb to when fighting this anxiety that enveloped him like flop sweat whenever he was forced to talk about the T-Rump for more than seven-and-a-half minutes. 

The Jaketapper saw this as an opportunity to move in with a final, hard-hitting question. Hammer time.

“If this was the Obamarus instead of the T-Rump, and he approached a foreign dino leader to get dirt on the T-Rump Jr. or the Erictyrumposaurus, would you not find that inappropriate?”

“Again with the speculation. What I do find inappropriate is the Joebiden’s son–”

“You’re not listening. Take the moolah-moolah out of your ears. So it’s okay for the T-Rump’s children to do their thing all over dino world but not okay for the Joebiden’s son.”

“Again, I don’t really want to go into more detail. You know how the T-Rump hates details.”

“Steven, you do realize you have just set a precedent that the leader of the dino nation is violating.

“Again, I think that there’s a significant difference in, in what you’re saying. Okay. Or what I was saying … or what one of us was saying, between the Joebiden and his son’s relationship with a Ukraine Plain oligarch.”

“Oh, goody,” said the Jaketapper, wringing his hands in glee. “Oligarchs! Tied to the T-Rump. Shall we? The Olegderipaska, the Vekselberg, the Prigozhin, the Rybolovlev, the Arasagalarov …”

The Stevenmnuchin’s eyes glazed over as the Jaketapper droned on, running down the lengthy list of prominent Russodinos who’d all played key roles in the T-Rump’s turbulent rise to power. The Stevenmnuchin making the T-Rump’s meeting with the Zelensky was suddenly in doubt.

But then again, when was the last sure thing of the Trumpassic Period

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 970 & 974

Today’s T-Rump Dig Podcast has Day 970 — Seth’s Profound Proof … the Sethabramson leaves some very telling footprints … and … Day 974 — Grand Bargain … it’s a blast from the past with the T-Rump singing the Ukrainian blues!

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Grand Bargain …

A stand-up, well-meaning Whistleblower dino had come forth five weeks ago with credible, urgent information that pointed a claw to some dino inside the Oval Dwelling, perhaps even the Tyrumposaurus. The Whistleblower had spoken with the powers that be in the Langleyops dino den, who in turn had forwarded the information to the dino of national intelligence. That is, more than the average walnut-brain.

Except the Whistleblower’s words stopped cold there for a week until the Adamschiff stepped in, roaring loudly of an apparent conspiracy. Could it be another cover up? More news became available and dinos across the land learned that the Oval Dwelling dino in question was indeed the T-Rump. Dino national security may have been threatened because the T-Rump had contacted a foreign dino leader and made a promise among other things. What was this promise? Dinos throughout the Milkanhoney Preservation huddled in their caves, desperately worried about their futures. The morning brought breaking news. It was shocking, beyond belief and went something like this …


I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain

Along your Russo-line

There’s gonna be the Ukraine in time

When you take the dirt they give, on Biden don’t forgive

So let Joe go, oh, oh, oh


I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain

I could promise you things like pulling some more strings

But you won’t find the Sanctionsaurus a push-over

So you better think it over

Well, if sweet-talkin’ you makes moolah-moolah too

I would give you the world and my dino intel chatter

But what would it matter?

So smile for a while, think of the Red Sea 

Conspiracy, it’s no cheap folly

Come along and share the good times while we can


I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain

Along your Russo-line

There’s gonna be the Ukraine in time

(dino humming interlude) 

I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain

I could hire your next goon and make sure he’s immune

But if my dino spy leaves a single clue

I’d just as soon let you know 

But there’s one thing I want you to grow

You better make my numbers leap, my kingdom mine to keep

And there will always be someone there to pull you out

And you know what I’m talkin’ about

So smile for a while, think of the Red Sea 

Conspiracy, it’s no cheap folly

Come along and share the good times while we can


I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain

Along your Russo-line

There’s gonna be the Ukraine in time 

I beg your pardon

I never promised you the grand bargain.

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Seth’s Profound Proof …

“Why the glum face?”

The Tyrumposaurus looked across the Oval Dwelling at the Williambarr squatting in the entrance. The top legal dino in the land had on an especially sour puss.

“It’s not good news.”

“What, did the Brettkavanaugh assault another dino?”


“Did the Mediacircustops accuse me of assaulting another dino?


“Well, it’s a great day then, isn’t it?”

“Not quite. Come with me.”

A few minutes later the attorney dino general and the T-Rump stood on the First Amended Path, staring down at fresh footprints laid down by the Sethabramson, a Rhodescholarus-like dino from the Newhamp Shires. The T-Rump turned his head cockeyed.

“What’s it … what is it …”

“What’s it about? Oh, right. You can’t read. The footprints here are titled, Proof of Conspiracy.”

“Hah! Conspiracies. Fake news.”

“Uh, not really. I’ve just read a few footprints …”


“It’s bad. Real bad.”

“How bad?”

“So bad the Foxsquawkbox won’t even touch it. The Putinodon says turn away. No peeking allowed.”

“Then why in god’s green swamp are we here?”

“Because, as your personal legal dino, I mean the dino nation’s number one legal dino, I need to know what we’re up against.”


The Williambarr looked at the initial footprints. 

“Oh, my. … My word.” His eyes moved down the footprints. “Oh. My. God.” 

“What? What? WHAT?!”

The top legal dino suddenly found himself wondering if his own job was in jeopardy. How was he going to defend the T-Rump with these footprints after footprint — a veritable highway to hell that drove home the point in startling, shocking details that the T-Rump was the most corrupt leader since … the Williambarr could only stammer in awe.

“This, this is worse than the Ferdinandmarcosaurus.”


“Sorry, I forgot. You don’t know history.”

“I don’t need to. History begins with me. I’ve lied at every turn. My dinos have destroyed evidence. The Muellersavus admitted as much in his report and look, I’m still here. Keep lying. Keep delaying. We’ll be fine.”

“I wish I could say that but …”

The Williambarr looked around to make sure they were alone. He then leaned in close to whisper in the T-Rump’s bright orange ear.

“He knows about the Grand Dino Basement Bargain.”

The T-Rump pulled back as if bitten.

“No. How can he know that? I don’t even know about all that. By design of course. Because I have this, you know … tendency to spill the beans.”

The Sethabramson footprints told how the bargain’s beginnings were born in the wee minds of the Georgenader, the Erikprince and the Elliottbroidy. Their criminal conniving culminated in a meeting on the banks of the Red Sea bringing together the Saudisaurae, the Emiratisaurae, the Israelisaurae, the Egyptiansaurae and the Russodinos. After a large meal of Caviaraptors, they all agreed to support the T-Rump in the November Battle so he’d become the leader of the Milkanhoney Preservation. In return, the T-Rump would call off the deadly Sanctionsaurus on the Russodinos. The Milkanhoney Preservation would then take the Nuclearsaurae away from the Iranasaurae and give it to the Saudisaurae and Emiratisaurae, thereby pointing to the Iranasaurae as the big, bad dino bully of the block.

“You’ve had the Manaforta living in your T-Rump Dump for 13 years?”

“Time does fly. He kind of grows on you, y’know?”

“Not that you’d want him to. It says here the Olegderipaska gave him 10 million moolah-moolah leaves and the Manaforta turned around and threw about 4 million to you to move into your Dump.”

“And what’s wrong with having Russodino agents for neighbors? The more the merrier.”

The Williambarr turned back to the footprints.

“You do remember our cold-blooded feelings toward the Russodinos, don’t you? It says here all that changed in the Grandoldparty Shindig in the Cleaved Land three years ago thanks to a plan put forth by the Jaydeegordon, the Sessionsopposum, the Sergeykislyak, the Carterpage, the Kushneratops and the Dimitrisimes.”

“Woah,” said the T-Rump. “You just said the dino who should not be named.”

“But he knows, T-Rump. He knows. You’ve never mentioned the Dimitrisimes but he was in the Muellersavus report 134 times.”

“Hmph. Just because the Muellersavus says it 134 times doesn’t make it true.”

How many times would make it so, wondered the Williambarr. Having a pathological liar for a boss was a tough gig. But the fringe benefits, oh the fringe benefits. He had the power to look into anything purely as a stalling tactic while not actually accomplishing anything. It was a great way to while away the day.

“Holy Toledosaurus!”


“He has all of your joint defense agreements. The Manaforta, the Michaelcohen, the Jeromecorsi …”

“Corsi? I don’t even know him.”

The Williambarr shook his head.

“Your legal dinos spoke with his legal dinos for months. How can you possibly say that?”

The legal dino knew better than to wait for an answer. He plunged back into the Sethabramson’s damning footprints.

“The year you sold your Everglades luxury cave to the Rybolovlev, the Larisamarkus, the Bedzhamov and the Ilyabykov …”

“Nice Russodinos. All of them.”

“They were washing moolah-moolah leaves on the wrong banks for several Russodinos, including the oily-skinned Rosneftaurus. The Larisamarkus and the Bedzhamov were caught and thrown in the Solitary Sinkhole.”

“Did I say that they were both great dinos?”

“Apparently the Ilyabykov was also working for you and your luxury cave partners, the Felixsater and the Arasagalarov.”

“Didn’t I already tell you that I have no dealings with Russodinos?”

“Or is it that you never met a Russodino you didn’t like?”

“That to.”

“Uh-oh. There’s more here on your dino who should not be named. I don’t believe this.”

“I’m telling you,” said the T-Rump. “It’s fake news.”

“Unfortunately no. All these facts have been verified by Mediacircustops we need to worry about. The respected ones. It says that the Dmitrisimes was with a Russodino think tank and he became your Russodino advisor a few days after the Samclovis brought in the Papadopoulos. A few days later the Dmitrisimes and the Kushneratops convinced you to create a national dino security advisory committee.”

“They told me it would make me look good. Smart too. I mean genius. Definitely genius.”

“So you proudly announced the Papadopoulos and the Carterpage being on this committee but you didn’t want the Milkanhoney Preservation to know that the real brains behind it were the Dmitrisimes, the Flynnhasbeen and the Erikprince. Their names were never publicly mentioned.”

“Modest dinos,” said the T-Rump. “Nice, modest dinos.”

The Williambarr continued.

“They worked in the shadows. Swampy dinos in the know called the Dmitrisimes ‘completely pro-Russodino’ or probably a Russodino spy.”

The attorney dino general looked up at the T-Rump.

“You and the Kushneratops knew?”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t tell me you still care about the law. I bought you.”

The Williambarr nodded his head. The T-Rump had indeed. Whatever remaining moral fibre in the legal dino’s spine keeled over and died. The T-Rump had that effect on dinos. Still, the Williambarr could not take his eyes off the footprints of Sethabramson. They were hypnotizing in their dizzying depths of corruption and guilt.

“The Marcmukasey? Your family’s legal dino is in here?”


“He was also the legal dino to the Rudygiuliani and the dirt-digging Psygroup dinos using intel to help win the November Battle for you.”

“Yes, it was a true team effort. I told you I had the best dinos. All working hard, doing whatever it took, breaking laws for me to win. What can I say?”

The T-Rump held out his short hands and grinned.

“Everybody loves me.”

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 963 & 967

This week’s T-Rump Dig podcast features: Day 963 — I Have Esteem … The Elijahcummings preaches to the T-Rump. Bigly. … and … Day 967 — Bolton Bolts! … It MUST be time to turf another national security dino, right?

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bolton Bolts! …


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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

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

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

“Would you?”

She nodded with a sweet smile.

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

“Right. Book me in at Baltimore Bedrock.”

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

“Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie.”

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

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

He stopped, gnawed on a Cheezbuggabugga and puzzled.

“What is it, T-Rump?”

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

“Poor Mick,” she said.

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

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

She blinked hopefully at the T-Rump.

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

“Last time I checked.”

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



“You’re fired!”

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

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

The Johnbolton slowly trudged out of the cave.

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

The sour, denigrating words hung in the air.

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

“Do we have to?”

“I – I … think we should.”

“Okay. Which Foxsquawkbox is next in line?”

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

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

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

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

He looked for her to add something to the conversation.

“And, um … pompous?”

“That’s it! Get him in here!”


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

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

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


The dino secretary of state punched the air in glee.

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

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

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

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

I Have Esteem …

“C’mere, son. Pull up a rock.”

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

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

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

“Have I done something wrong?”

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

“But not everything you know, dad.”

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

“To stay with the Tymelania?”

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

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

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

There was a tail lash against the outside wall.

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

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

The T-Rump bristled.

“What do you want, Cummings?”

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

“Uh, come again?”

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

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

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

The Elijahcummings ignored him.

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

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

The Elijahcummings cast an accusing claw at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

The T-Rump Dig Podcast … Days 956 & 960

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

Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bamahama Sham-o-rama …

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

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

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

“Where are we again?”

“Charleston Landing.”

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

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


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

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

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

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

They turned to see the shocked face of the Mediacircustops.

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

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

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

“Hell, no.” 

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

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

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

“Are you deflecting again?”

“I’ve never deflected in my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Foxsquawkbox, the Johnroberts came to the fore.

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

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

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

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

“Not even a leaf.”

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

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

“For a lousy weather report? Hah!”

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

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

“I never apologized!”

“Yes, you did.”