Categories
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?”

Categories
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.”

Categories
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?”

“Look.”

“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.”

Please.

“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.”

Categories
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?”

Categories
Satire The Trump Dig

The Lost Weekend …

The Muellersavus Report had finally landed. The footprints in the sand were for big dino eyeballs only. Except those big dinos would have to wait. The Williambarr and the Muellersavus were holed up in a DOJ (Dinos Open-Jawed) cave. The Williambarr had promised to come up with a brief summary over the weekend for the clammering, unwashed masses. Millions of impatient, stinky dinos tend to push up a deadline.

The Williambarr patted the Muellersavus on the back.

“No pressure, Bob. You just need to feed me the Cliff Shouts version of your investigation and we’ll be out of here in no time. My wife and I have a dinner date on the west side. In-season Bracchiosaurus. M-m-m-m!” He salivated, his saliva dripping onto the Muellersavus’ shoulder, who paid him no mind.

“Something wrong, Bob?”

“A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-g-g-g-g-g-g-h-h-h-h!”

It was a long, agonizing bellow. The Muellersavus slumped back in his squat, panting, exhausted.

“Wow,” said the Williambarr. “That was a long time coming. Feeling better?”

“Ahem. Sorry, Bob. 22 months of this. 22 months of collusion, obstruction, collusion, obstruction. A new revelation every day followed by contacts, cover-ups and cock-and-bull stories.

“I warned you not to listen to the news.”

“But I needed to come up for air … and it only made me sink back into the depths of this … this … I think I’m going to scream again.”

“Go for it, though I may have to stop calling you Silent Bob.”

The moment passed however like a missed sneeze. The Muellersavus put his grim face back on.

“I have a theory.”

“You’re going to have to better than that, Bob. I need the crimes — followed by innocence or guilt.”

“Hear me out. The odd time when I did look up from my work and took a peek outside my cave, I’d see the … O-o-o-o-o-h!” he shivered. “The New Norm.”

“You mean morn. Like a new day?”

“No. Norm. The new normal. It made me see how society has set the bar so low for the T-Rump to maintain his leadership … yet we have the bar so high in the sky to prove he committed a crime. It’s an inverse relationship, Bill. The lower the first bar, the higher the second.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not paying you to do math. Or philosophy. Tell me what you have on the Russodino collusion.”

“Honestly? I didn’t have to do one interview. There was the T-Rump Dump meeting for dirt on the Crookadillary. One month later the T-Rump asked the Russodinos to get the Crookadillary’s secrets and they were looking for them within hours. There were more Russodinos at T-Rump’s inauguration than at the Putinodon’s for crying out loud. The T-Rump sharing secrets with the Russodinos inside the Oval Dwelling. The T-Rump wanting to release the Sanctionsaurus and change policy in the Ukrainia, 16 T-Rump dinos had over 100 Russodino contacts, including the Erikprince and the Kirilldimitriev meeting in the Seychelles by the Seashore. The Manaforta worked for free so he could “get whole” with the Olegderipaska? C’mon, Bill. Nobody works for free! At Smelstinki, the T-Rump throws the Langleyops under the Priebusunderbus. So, of course the T-Rump is licking the feet of our worst enemy. Why wouldn’t he? Do I really need to go on?”

The Williambarr nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, when you put it that way. It’s in plain sight and we’ve missed it. You’re right. The T-Rump-Russodino connection has become so commonplace, it’s like a fart in the wind.”

That’s why he’s lying about climate change.”

“Okay, what about the obstruction of justice?”

“Obstruction? More like obliteration. We need only review the first six months of last year. The T-Rump asks the Comeyonus for a pledge of loyalty. Then to let go of the Flynnhasbeen investigation. The T-Rump asks the Danielcoates and the Mikepompeo to persuade the Comeyonus. More T-Rump conversations with the Comeyonus to end his investigation. The T-Rump fires the Comeyonus, then dumps on the Sessionsopossum for appointing the Muellersavus. The T-Rump explores his options, including firing the Muellersavus … puts down false footprints in the sand for the T-Rump Jr. regarding the T-Rump Dump meeting … calls for the firing of the Andrewmccabe and has always made false or misleading statements to deceive the good dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation. That’s ten and I’m only scratching the surface, Bill.”

“I can’t go back out there with that. He’ll crucify me!”

“What do you suggest? I ended this investigation because it was just more of the same. Constant, never ending collusion, obstruction, collusion, obstruction …”

“Bob, Bob, snap out of it! … Look at me. … Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go with the two parts: collusion and obstruction. I know you’re a straight tail, Bob, but there’s only two ways to do things in this reservoir. The right way and the other right way. You did good, Bob, but who are we kidding? Everything’s political. We need to give meat to both sides or they’ll gobble us up like Caviaraptor legs. What we need is … we need …”

He looked down at the ground.

“Aha!”

The Williambarr picked up a small rock with two flat sides.

“Shiny side: no collusion. Dark side: no obstruction.”

“Twenty-two months and it comes down to this?”

“There there, Bob. Save your sanity. Good dinos don’t let their friends think too hard. There’s a … what did you call it? A new normal out there. And a Bracchiosaurus feast with my name on it.”

He patted his belly and flipped the rock in the air. It landed …

“Shiny side. Okay, so we have obstruction. Where to begin?”

He noticed the tremor in the Muellersavus’ tail.

“I’m kidding! Hah! Really had you going there, Bob.”

The Muellersavus looked at him with wondering eyes.

“What are you going to do?”

“Easy. I’ll just stamp out four footprints in the sand. Call’em conclusions. No, principal conclusions. Make dinos think we worked a little harder. I’m not cracking my walnut on this one after seeing what it’s done to you. We’ll just pass this whole obstruction thing off to the Jerrynadler. Hah! Let him sort it out.”

Categories
Satire The Trump Dig

Husband in Hell …

The Sigmundfreudus blinked his eyes and leaned back, raking his claws over his scaly head as he did so.

“Not in my wildest dreams and — woah! — I’ve had some wild ones — did I ever think I’d have the T-Rump’s leading public advocate and leading public critic living in the same cave, married to one another, as patients. I should’ve brought snacks!”

The Georgeconvixway leaned forward.

“Uh, what’s your initial diagnosis, doc?”

“I’m glad you’re both squatting. I believe you and your wife are suffering from an acute case of BLAH.”

“Excuse me?” said the Kellyanneconvixway.

“B-L-A-H. … Boss-Lambasting Apoplectic Husband. Very rare indeed.”

“Now, Ziggy, can I call you Ziggy? Let’s not blow this out of proportion. I’m sure I can come up with some alternative facts.”

The dino doc nodded, busying himself making some footprint notes in the sand.

“What are you saying there?” snapped Kellyanne. “Whatever it is, you can’t say that.”

“Sweetheart,” said the Georgeconvixway. “Let him do his job.”

The Sigmundfreudus turned back to them.

“Alrighty then, shall we begin? I’m sure you two must have some questions.”

“I do,” said George. “Like what the hell is he doing here?”

He pointed to the remaining dinosaur in the cave. The Tyrumposaurus.

“Oh, well. It’s my new approach to these therapy sessions. Instead of just talking about the problem, why not invite the problem? You know, hear what they have to say?”

“Who are you calling a problem?” said the T-Rump. “I got 306 votes. How many did you get? Not one. Right?”

“I wasn’t running,” the Sigmundfreudus calmly replied.

“That’s it. Take the easy way out.”

“Now then,” continued the dino doc. “Let’s unpackage this so we can wrap our walnut brains around it. George, you said that T-Rump is suffering from narcissistic personality disorder and antisocial personality disorder.”

“Can I add mysoginist, racist boob?”

“Heh-heh. One disorder at a time, please.” The Sigmundfreudus turned to the T-Rump. “This narcissism …”

“What about it?”

“You did get upset when no one thanked you for the Johnmccainus funeral.”

“I had to do it. And I didn’t even go!”

“Hmm. You didn’t, did you? Let me make a note of that. Anti-social. Two birds with one stone. Winning!”

A smiling George reached over with his short arm, exchanging a high-five with the dino doc.

A horrified Kellyanne looked on.

“Tell me you didn’t just do that. You gave the doctor a high-five — at the expense of my boss?”

“Sweetheart, the good doctor’s second opinion confirmed my diagnosis. We should celebrate.”

“No! He’s wrong!” shouted the T-Rump. “Fake news.”

“I beg your pardon,” said the Sigmundfreudus. “You are confusing me with the Mediacircustops. Classic dissociative identity disorder.”

“Quit analyzing my boss!”

“That’s what we’re here for, Kellyanne!”

She stared down her husband. They both looked to the Sigmundfreudus, then all eyes turned to the T-Rump. He grinned his cheesy grin.

“No, we’re not.” Confused looks from the other three. “Okay, maybe.”

The dino doc studied the T-Rump carefully.

“Why do you feel it so necessary to lie? Did your mother ignore you?”

“Stop right there, Ziggy. I won’t let you call my boss a liar.”

“I want to hear about his mother.”

“That’s enough, George.”

“What? He called me a stone cold loser.”

“And wack-job,” said the T-Rump. “Don’t forget wack-job.”

The Kellyanneconvixway smiled sweetly at her husband.

“What did you expect him to say after you said he had a mental disorder?”

She turned to the Sigmundfreudus.

“Just to be clear, my husband is a non-medical professional.”

“You say that like I’m not even here.”

Now we’re getting somewhere,” said the dino doc.

“I was alerting the Dino Nation, sweetheart. Who’s side are you on anyway?”

The T-Rump grinned at her.

“You are such a wonderful wife.”

“Stop saying that!” shouted George. “She’s my wife! Not yours. Don’t you have another pornodactyl to hush up?”

“George! That’s not fair. Why can’t you just respect me for working for the greatest dino leader in the Milkanhoney Preservation. Ever.

“But–”

“Don’t start with me. I know where this is going. But the last time I checked there have been 199 indictments from the Muellersavus. Does one of them have the T-Rump’s name on it? Just one. Well? I’m waiting.”

“No. But dear, you’re forgetting the Muellersavus Report. Those footprints in the sand are coming out any minute.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

George’s shoulders slumped.

“We? Is that you and me … or you and …”

He looked toward the T-Rump, who mouthed the word ‘me’ back at them.

A panicked George clutched his wife’s short arm.

“How can you believe anything that comes out of his mouth? He’s lied 8000 times.”

“9000,” corrected the T-Rump.

George shook his head.

“Sweetheart, you really need to stop telling our children his lies are simply a problem with his memory.”

The T-Rump frowned.

“Memory problem?”

“I told them it was temporary.”

George glared at the T-Rump.

“I’m glad we’re here, because you. Are. Nuts.”

“Dinos, dinos, dinos! Let me step in here,” said the Sigmundfreudus.

“But I didn’t get to double-down,” whined the T-Rump.

“That’s another session entirely. Now then, Kellyanne, it appears you have a difficult decision to make. Do you stay in your wonderful 18-year marriage with George, don’t forget the four little dino tots … or do you continue defending the T-Rump in the face of a psychological pandemic that quite frankly, has increased my patient-load ten-fold. I thank you, Kellyanne, but must remind you that dinosaurs have jumped off cliffs for less. Save yourself. Please. Your marriage or your job. What’ll it be?”

All eyes turned to her. She gritted her teeth, staring straight back at the dino doc with eyes that had pierced the sunny disposition of a thousand Mediacircustops. She spoke slowly.

“I choose hell.”

Categories
Satire The Trump Dig

All in the (FOX) Family …

It was roll call at the latest Oval Dwelling crisis meeting. The Tyrumposaurus took in the faithful Foxsquawkbox followers around him. They were his most close-knit, crooked-necked cronies, able to snarl and hiss at any Donkeykongrus within 30 feet. There was the shameless Seanhannity, the jumpy Jeaninepirro, the cantankerous Tuckercarlson and the loopy Loudobbs to name but a few.

The T-Rump ran down their names, his nod to each generating a smile in return, grins that grew in their ingratiating smugness, the tail-waggers seeking to outdo each other.

“All right then. All accounted for. Here we are again, just like yesterday. In trouble. Some fake news Mediacircustops, the Janemayer, claims the Foxsquawkbox killed the Stormydaniels story shortly before my battle campaign. How the hell did she find out about that?! Bill? Where’s the Billshine?!”

“Uh, you let him go, boss,” said the Seanhannity. “He was still making millions of moolah-moolah and since he wasn’t improving your exposure, you demoted him to your next battle campaign.”

“Oh, right. Well, is the Hopehicksbagotrix here?”

“Over here, T-Rump.” With a short-armed wave, she leaned forward from the long row of Foxsquawkbox friends forever.

“Great. So good to have you back in the fold. I’ve missed you, Hope. Did I tell you you could do better than the Lewandowski?”

“Yes, T-Rump. Several times.”

The leader of the free-running dino world lost his train of thought. The Seanhannity coughed.

“The, uh … Janemayer, boss.”

“Right. The Janemayer. Any derogatory comments you’d like to make, Tucker?”

“That was years ago, boss.”

“Don’t let that slow you down. Take it from me.”

A dull, low roar suddenly filled the room. The Rupertmurdoch. All eyes turned to the T-Rump.

“I’ll be right back.”

The T-Rump hurried out of the Oval Dwelling, down a path, around a corner and into the octogenarian’s Piccadilly Downunder cave where he squatted before the Mediacircustops mogul. The Rupertmurdoch smirked at the T-Rump and a chuckle escaped his rubbery lips.

“What’s so funny?” asked the T-Rump.

“It amazes me that the more trouble you cause, the wealthier I become.”

“You called me down here for that?”

‘Shut up and listen. School’s now in session.”

“I hate school,” the T-Rump muttered under his breath.

“Now you and I are both transactional when it comes to politics, we’re both devoid of any ideology — besides self-interest of course. But I need to remind you — daily — how I built this Foxsquawkbox dino network that is the very basis for your survival.”

The T-Rump was already looking over at the doorway, praying for a tornado, as the Rupertmurdoch droned on.

“Twenty-five years ago I had a vision and so began my foray with the Foxsquawkbox species. I would ignore the centrist dinos and seek out the lowbrow, working-class audience, the proverbial pigskin dino. From there it was an easy hop, skip and a jump into fear-based, anger-based politics aimed at class and race. Our fundamental strategy is drive fear. That’s all. Enrage the masses. This is your base, nincompoop.”

“Why do you always call me that?”

“Because after 50 dinos die in a tragedy, nobody extends their, ahem … ‘warmest sympathy and best wishes.’ You, my bone-spurred boob, are a soulless cur.”

“Can I go now?”

“Be off with you then.” The Rupertmurdoch sent him off with a wave of the hand. “I’m at the top but I am old. The lunatics are running the asylum now.”

Meanwhile, back at the Oval Dwelling, the Foxsquawkbox dinos continued their damage control discussions without the T-Rump. It was after all, when they got most work done.

“Screw the Gretavansusteren,” said the Seanhannity. “So what if I appeared on stage with the T-Rump. I never said I was a Mediacircustops. But I do have the biggest audience. Okay, so the T-Rump calls me every night. That in itself makes me an official Oval Dwelling adviser. Hell, that makes us all advisers. He needs us because nothing is getting done around here. Somebody has to fill the vacuum!”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” said the Loudobbs. “And in case anybody was wondering, we do not need to present both sides of the debate. It’s simply T-Rump, T-Rump, T-Rump.”

“Makes perfect sense,” said the Tuckercarlson. “It’s like the Rupertmurdoch said, the dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation don’t want to admit it, but authoritarian dino societies can work.”

The Jeaninepirro jumped out of her squat.

“And that’s why we’ve had to change. Before we were just conservative. Finally we’ve stepped big-time. Now we’re just plain crazy. Welcome to 24-7 propaganda, folks. LOCK HER UP!

The Sebastiangorka flicked out his tongue and rubbed his chin.

“Never question the T-Rump. Which is why I say his retreating from the shutdown without securing moolah-moolah for the Great Tex-Mex Divide was actually a master stroke. Fear not, my fellow Foxsquawkbox faithful. We are in a win-win situation because at the end of the day the wonderful question is: are we running the Oval Dwelling or is the Oval Dwelling running us?”

“Hah!” laughed the Seanhannity. “The average dino at home will never figure it out.”

Categories
Satire The Trump Dig

She Said What?

The Amybermanjackson scowled down her snout at her prey. She’d just sentenced the Manaforta to an additional 43 months in the Solitary Sinkhole. Her nostril-flaring focus however, was on the Tyrumposaurus’ ex-battle campaign manager’s legal dino, the Kevindowning.

“Kevin.”

The judge motioned with her tail for him to step toward her rocky bench to be within tail and tongue-lashing distance. The Kevindowning straightened his shoulders and half-staggered, half-trudged before her. Her long tongue slithered out, touched her nose and quickly recoiled into her gaping mouth. This was dino legalese for showing who was boss. Her tone was gravel-raking serious.

“I want you to pay the utmost strict attention to what I’m about to say.”

The Kevindowning’s stare however, had already settled upon a nearby hummingbird lightly dancing, fairly flitting a few feet away, sucking in nectar, knocking back …

“Kevin! Look at me!”

Streams of saliva dripped from her juice-laden jowls.

“I’m only going to say this once. Your client, the Manaforta, was never, ever tried in my dino court for colluding with the Russodinos. No legal dino here referred to collusion, it was not discussed. Not. One. Peep. I’m telling you right now that you are NOT … look at me, Kevin … you are NOT going to stand on the ledge outside my dino court cave and have the audacity to tell the Mediacircustops otherwise. Do I make myself perfectly cave-your-head-in clear?”

“Well …”

“Kevin?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The Amybermanjackson’s fiery glare fairly seared into the eyes of the Kevindowning, searching for a soul she could sink her razor-sharp incisors into. After a few seconds she realized it was a wild goose chase.

Not three minutes later, on the ledge outside her dino court cave, the Kevindowning stood before a scrum of Mediacircustops, all chomping, molars grinding away, ready to digest his words. The Kevindowning stuck out his chest with confidence.

“I just want you all to know, the Amybermanjackson begged me to come out here to tell you that after — forget about the seven-year sentence — she has completely exonerated the Manaforta from all charges of collusion with the Russodinos.”

“She did not!”

It was a voice in the crowd. A voice of reason that, however anonymous, rang true, a voice of welcomed wisdom, heaven-sent to still the masses regarding the madness of all things Manaforta. Especially those he’d managed with the T-Rump — a mingling of two manic minds. Because pardons were the lowest dingleberries dangling from a branch that even a 70-year old Manaforta could reach.

“She never said that, Downing! You’re lying through your teeth! You call yourself a legal dino?! You’re an embarrassment to the rule of law!”

The anonymous voice of reason effectively drowned out the Manaforta’s lawyer. The next voice came from a Mediacircustops.

“Newsflash. The Manhatinhand dino court has just indicted your client on 16 counts. What do you have to say now that a T-Rump pardon for the Manaforta won’t keep him out of the Solitary Sinkhole?”

“Look,” said the Kevindowning. “I have it on very good authority that the, uh … Attorney General dino for the Southern District of Manhatinhand, is that still the Letitiajames?”

Confused nods from several Mediacircustops spurred him on.

“She told me the deepest darkest political secret which I’m now sharing with you …”

The Mediacircustops all leaned in close.

“She said there was NO collusion. That’s right, no collusion.”

“But you never met with her,” scoffed one Mediacircustops. “The case is months away.”

The Kevindowning cocked his head, dismissing the comment as trivial.

“Hey!” hollered another Mediacircustops. “Is that the Mattwhitaker?”

Sure enough. The one-time stop-gap, flop-sweat attorney general was squatting off to the side, wistfully recalling his glory days when the Mediacircustops hung on his every word. A Mediacircustops pounced on him nevertheless.

“You were just grilled by the Jerrynadler who says you did not deny that you spoke with the T-Rump about the Michaelcohen investigation. Why can’t you just give a straight answer?”

The Mattwhitaker opened his mouth and the pores on his forehead.

“You want a straight answer? Fine. I’ll give you one. Didn’t say didn’t doesn’t mean did. Okay? I did however speak with the Southern District Manhatinhand legal dino, the Geoffreyjackson.”

The Kevindowning jumped in front of him.

“The Geoffreyjackson said there was NO collusion!”

“Wrong jackson, you idiot!” bellowed the voice of reason.

Suddenly two short arms rose above the crowd. They waved, outstretched, drawing attention, seemingly begging for it. It was the Rogerstone, coming from his own dino court date. It was open dino court season for all members of the T-Rump’s inner circle. These were his movers and shakers waiting to squat still in the Solitary Sinkhole. More gratuitous grandstanding from the Rogerstone.

“Hello, everyone! Did I tell you about my latest revised footprints in the sand? You know, the ones I’m not supposed to tell you about because my judge, the Amybermanjackson …”

“She said NO collusion!”

The Kevindowning jumped the Rogerstone and the two dinos fell to the ground, locked in a battle for the Mediacircustops attention. It was merely comic relief for the Mediacircustops. For they knew all too well, that while the T-Rump may call their facts fake news, the facts from the Amybermanjackson stayed facts. Tried and true. To the letter of the law.

Categories
Satire The Trump Dig

The Doomsday Deal …

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?”