Tag: Satire

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Satire The Trump Dig

The Bannonesia & T-Rump Show …

The Bannonesia stepped out from behind the safety and security of the Pershing-Bunker Beds to give a rare meeting with the Mediacircustops. This took place with the Tyrumposaurus from the same Bullee-Tar Pit — a stunning development in Trumpassic Period annals.

The Mediacircustops were in a feeding frenzy. They couldn’t believe their good fortune at having the T-Rump and his right-hand dino at the same time in the same place.

“T-Rump,” asked one Mediacircustops, “are you going to kick the Bannonesia out of Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir after this meeting?”

“It depends on how many nice things he says about me,” said the T-Rump.

“What’s the over-under?” shouted another Mediacircustops from the back.

The Bannonesia wagged his tail and licked his lips.

“I want you all now to take one eye off the T-Rump and look at me.”

The T-Rump shrugged, then nodded that would be acceptable. The Mediacircustops all adjusted their necks accordingly.

“Regarding the Kimjongadon,” began the Bannonesia.

“Excuse me, that’s my cue for fire and fury.”

“No, T-Rump. We can’t do anything about the Kimjongadon.”

“But I like fire and fury.”

The Bannonesia raised his short arm to the T-Rump and pointed to a low-flying pterodactyl on the horizon, momentarily distracting him.

“Mediacircustops,” said the Bannonesia, “I am changing the narrative. This is an explicit, transparent strategy on my part to draw your attention away from the T-Rump.”

“Can we still ask him about the incident at the Charlottesville Divide?” asked a Mediacircustops.

“By all means.”

“T-Rump, can you give us another word on the altrightraptors? Do you know who they are?”

“They’re just like the altleftraptors. Same Sub Family. Same bad news. Most of them.”

But the Bannonesia was shaking his head.

“The altrightraptors are a bunch of clowns, fringe and losers.”

“Don’t forget fine people,” said the T-Rump. “And another thing for all you fake Mediacircustops, the Roberteeleesaurus and the Washingtonsaurus are one and the same.”

The Bannonesia folded his arms, smiling smugly.

“As long as you dinosaurs are talking about the altrightraptors and the gayblackinus, I can go after the Chungkingosaurus on the Economonic Plateau.”

One Mediacircustops turned to another and sniffed.

“Nothing ever happens on the Economonic Plateau. The T-Rump is the meteor threatening our dinosaur lives!”

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Satire The Trump Dig

T-Rump’s Treacherous Rhetoric …

TinyBrainMuch has been made of the dinosaur’s brain being the size of a walnut. I would suggest however, that in times of great duress, they put their tiny brains together. One such event was when the Tyrumposaurus and the Kimjongadon were on the verge of a knock-down, drag-out battle of which the world had never seen. Still at the name-calling stage, they quickly ran their walnuts dry. They thus called upon their best dinosaurs to fill the verbal void. It went something like this …

The ball was in the Kimjongadon’s court. He motioned for the Arthurianator to come forward and deliver. The one-time king theropod stepped forward to face the T-Rump.

“You are the greatest wickedness of a wicked species. You are so wicked that you must not be allowed.”

“Hah!” said the T-Rump, “Is that the best you got? Bring on the Dubyabushemus.”

The near-sighted sauropod stepped before the Kimjongadon and cleared his throat.

“One of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dubya,” said the T-Rump. “That didn’t sound Trumpassic. I need Trumpassic, everyone. Go, get back to work.”

The Kimjongadon called upon the Clarecassandraptor, who addressed the T-Rump.

“I learned to play the instruments of war and how to paint in your blood.”

“How cute,” said the T-Rump. “He’s going cutesy on me, everybody! You hear that? Cutesy!”

He looked over what was left of his hard-core base of his followers. Many had left for a disturbance on the Charlottesville Divide.

“You, Pattoneon. You won’t let me down.”

The Pattoneon marched up, stopping smartly in front of the Kimjongadon.

“May God have mercy on you because I won’t.”

“Hah!” laughed the T-Rump. “That’s good. What HE said. Yeah. What he said!”

But the Kimjongadon didn’t look phased at all. It was just another day at the office for him. He pointed and out of the dino crowd came the Marktwaineon. The sour-faced sauropod looked up at the T-Rump.

“God created war so that you could learn geography.”

The Kimjongadon crowd cheered and clapped their little arms as fast as they could.

The T-Rump frowned. He didn’t like being second best. To compound matters, word came from the Charlottesville Divide that the situation there had grown worse. The Psychonazisaurs were wreaking havoc against the Peacepicnix.

Stepping back to the Bullee-Tar Pit, the T-Rump summoned the Shakespearaptor and the Jamesjoyceus. He paused to give them both the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately look. He then promptly sent them in the wrong directions.

The melee at Charlottesville needed a calming influence. It was the Shakespearaptor that arrived with the following message.

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”

Meanwhile, back at the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, the Jamesjoyceus strode before the Kimjongadon on the T-Rump’s behalf.

“Let my country die for me.”

Cue the dinosaur crickets. The smug T-Rump turned to the shocked Kimjongadon.

“What?” he said with his ruling Shrug of Incredulity.

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Satire The Trump Dig

T-Rump Jr. on the Lam! …

TrumpJrInBCMy new Vegan-Vegetative Analysis equipment arrived today. I put it to use immediately and made a startling discovery. In a Tyrumposaurus Jr. bone, I found small irritations — tell-tale markers of a variant sphagnum moss found only in the remote northeastern Britishcolumbiana.

That’s right. The T-Rump Jr. is on the run. I’m writing in paleo-present tense — to give the reader that up-close, nostril-flaring feel of a tour through Trumpassic Park. You can almost sense the T-Rump Jr.’s fear.

What is the T-Rump Jr. doing in northeastern Britishcolumbiana? Hunting the slow-moving Stoned Sheep? Grazing on the plentiful Magicallus Mushroomae? Perhaps. It’s much more likely the T-Rump Jr. is looking to distance himself from the Kushneratops and the Manaforta. His green bill and facial stubble are perfect camouflage for these dangerous wilds.

The Langleytips, a nose-to-the-ground sauropod, is looking to offer up the T-Rump Jr. to the Muellersavus. This would indeed be justice served in the Trumpassic neighborhood.

Being in foreign territory however, the Langleytips will give way to the Canuckmountiecops, a Puckluckean dinosaur that, like the Langleytips, possesses outstanding tracking skills.

This brings to mind the famous Canuckmountiecops chase and capture of the Madtrapperaptor of the Rat River Reserve. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that the Canuckmountiecops always gets their dino.

You’re probably wondering where the papa T-Rump is in all this. The short answer is that the T-Rump Jr. has simply strayed too far. The T-Rump won’t save the day this time. There will be no last-minute, 11th hour bait-and-switch with the Muellersavus.

Perhaps the Stoned Sheep and Magicallus Mushroomae hold the answer for the T-Rump Jr.’s survival. Back to my Vegan-Vegetative Analysis.

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Satire The Trump Dig

Trumpassic Apocalypse? …

The Trumpassic Period we know was very much a dino-eat-dino world. Some of the grander bone-munching battles had an almost cataclysmic feel to them. One such event I unearthed today was the much anticipated bout between the T-Rump and the Kimjongadon, the Crocodilian crackpot. The Kimjongadon had been on a collision course with the T-Rump for some time. The T-Rump made it a point not to venture into Ping Pong Valley because of the low number of reflecting pools.

But push came to shove as the Kimjongadon was within striking distance. The battle would be in the Kimjongadon’s back yard. The dinosaurs gathered. What would the T-Rump do? The Blumenthaleon, a Nonvietnamesean prosauropod said, “guessing what’s in the T-Rump’s head is a dangerous occupation.”

From atop the Bullee-Tar Pit, the T-Rump declared, “you realize of course, this means war.” There would be sumo wrestling.

The Bufferator, a rooster-sized Squawkbellow theropod with small teeth, stepped between the two, took a deep breath and held one wing in the air.

“ARE YOU READY TO R-U-M-B-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-E!”

The Kimjongadon stepped forward, glaring at the T-Rump.

“I am taking physical action.”

The T-Rump smirked.

“What is that, the prevent offense? I will show you a real preventative war.”

The Kimjongadon bristled.

“I will teach you severe lesson!”

“You’re going to teach me? That is intolerable, Kimjong-a-ding-dong. Intolerable with a capital I!”

“You crazy capitalist carnivore, you will pay 1000-fold!”

The T-Rump shook his head.

“Kimjongadon, you obviously don’t know me. When you reach a million, let’s talk. Until then, if you think you can play with the big dinos, you will see fire and fury like the world has never seen!”

That was the straw that stuck in the Kimjongadon’s nose. He charged at the T-Rump, bowling over the Tyrumposaurus. The T-Rump bounced to his feet and slugged the Kimjongadon with a short, quick right to the stomach.

“How’s that for a gut punch? Huh? That was a great gut punch! Wait.”

He walked to the edge of the Bullee-Tar Pit. The dinosaurs below looked like ants.

“Do you want to see my right upper-cut?!” he shouted to the masses. “You should see my–”

He never finished. The Kimjongadon lashed out with his long tail, knocking the T-Rump over the edge of the cliff.

The Kimjongadon slithered triumphantly to the edge.

“And now … I will now crush you with my famous Atomic Bomb cliff dive.”

“Ooh. Aah,” came the dinosaur cries from below.

The Kimjongadon took a step forward … and stopped. He looked down at the beaten T-Rump. There was a large crater from the T-Rump’s great fall. Small streams of water were slowly filling the deep depression.

“Leaks!” the T-Rump cried. “All these leaks!”

The T-Rump slowly dragged himself out of the water. The Kimjongadon admired himself in his brand new pond. So this is a reflecting pond. It had to be bigger than anything the T-Rump had. He smiled. It would be a monument to his crocodilian brethren. The dinosaurs below put their short arms together. Again and again.

Gradually realizing the applause was not for him, the T-Rump began the journey home to his oval dwelling.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I’m playing flog with the Putinodon tomorrow. It’s my turn to carry the Maralago palm.* Again.”

 

*See previous Day 199 report.

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Satire The Trump Dig

Putinodon Flogs with T-Rump! …

Today’s bone hints at the sporting life of dinosaurs. I came across a skull bone from the Tyrumposaurus with many dents in it. Thanks to nanometric calcium dating, I found the dents were in groupings of nine and inflicted over a 17-day period. This is irrefutable proof of the little-known dinosaur game of “Flog” that the T-Rump played with the Putinodon. I will let the bone tell the story …

The Putinodon pointed to the lone Maralago palm tree. The T-Rump promptly pulled it out of  the ground and, with a grunt, hoisted it onto his back. They were off.

At the first sinkhole, the T-Rump handed the Putinodon the Maralago palm.

“You have to guess what I’m thinking of,” the Putinodon reminded him.

“Or I get flogged,” the T-Rump said wincing. “Okay. Here goes the greatest guess. Adoptions?”

WHOMP!

“Nyet. Sanctions.”

They traveled to the second sinkhole. They could have played the game at the same sinkhole but the T-Rump insisted on showing the Putinodon around the Bedminster Sand Dunes. This also allowed the bump on the T-Rump’s head to ease its swelling as he dragged the Maralago palm behind him.

At the second sinkhole, the T-Rump sized up the Putinodon.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking. Flynn.”

WHOMP!

“Nyet. Manafort.”

“Very impressive,” said the T-Rump, rubbing his noggin. “You’re always one step ahead of me.”

The game continued to the third sinkhole.

“Ukraine.”

WHOMP!

“Nyet. Crimea. You are so close, comrade.”

And close is how the T-Rump would remain, getting whomped four times over the next four sinkholes for incorrect guesses of Syria, oil, hacking and the KGB when the Putinodon’s correct answers were Asaad, real estate, RussianBrides.com and the CIA.

They arrived at the eighth hole, the T-Rump understandably woozy. He handed the Putinodon the Maralago palm. The T-Rump blinked his eyes twice and steadied himself.

“Crookadillary!”

WHOMP!

“Nyet. Monicalewinsky.”

“What’s a Monicalewinsky?”

“That would be the Jezebelian dinosaur with a breakaway girdle bone.”

The two dinosaurs tromped to the last sinkhole. The T-Rump decided that for the final sinkhole he would keep things simple. His ringing headache demanded it.

“How smart I am.”

WHOMP!

“Nyet. How smart I am.”

The Putinodon handed the Maralago palm to the T-Rump, who slung it back over his shoulder. As they turned to leave, the T-Rump patted the Putinodon on the back with his tail.

“Same time next week?”

“Instead … why don’t we go fishing for Barechested Barracuda.”

“I’d like that.”

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Satire The Trump Dig

Cracks Where The T-Rump Lies! …

There continue to be big cracks in the T-Rump dig. Cracks from which I’m pulling bones — with more cracks — telling quite a different story from previous analyses. Cracks beget cracks. It’s the Trumpassic news cycle. I have new evidence of previous interaction between the Tyrumposaurus and the Mexicodino, the Aussiesaurus and the Scoutzhonoraptor.

I will analyze these individually of course, but we must first place this information in its proper context. The T-Rump may well be suffering from gonzofibberlips, a rare stand-alone disorder whereby it is impossible for him to remember past events. Each day is a new Paleolithic slate, where he simply rewrites the past. It’s like 50 First Dates, only this is now closing in on 200 for poor ol’ T-Rump.

Let’s go to the bones …

The T-Rump met with the Mexicodino, wanting him to look over the Great Tex-Mex Divide, an area the T-Rump viewed as being key to his survival. I’m paraphrasing here but the unhappy Mexicodino went straight to the Mediacircustops which had the T-Rump soon intervening, telling the Mediacircustops that the Great Tex-Mex Divide was safe and that the Mexicodino should put his energy to better use by cleaning up the nearby Newhampshire-Drugg Den.

The T-Rump then bumped into the Aussiesaurus, who nodded favorably to the Obamarus migration, a multi-species mass exodus. This infuriated the T-Rump, who felt it would surely kill him, the greatest dinosaur, to let so many others — about 1250 — into the Milcanhoney Preservation. The enraged T-Rump called the meeting “dino dung” preferring a previous Putinodon meeting that went “peachy keen.” Hmm …

A final note, clinching my gonzofibberlips prognosis. Thanks to a new fossil study technique called psycho-osteo brainstem-stammering, I learned that the T-Rump claimed the Scoutzhonoraptors met him to say his presence at their meeting was the greatest thing since Sliced Ted, a wise-cracking pterodactyl. In truth however, when the young Scoutzhonoraptors heard the loud, bombastic roars of the T-Rump, they dashed pell-mell over the Head-Smashed-In Dinosaur Jump to their final, fossil resting place.

We owe a great debt to the Mediacircustops and psycho-osteo brainstem-stammering for shedding light on these incredible goings-on deep in the dark depths of the Trumpassic Period.

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Satire The Trump Dig

Will Scaramunchkin Throw Priebusunderbus?

You recall in my last report there were leaks in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir attributed to the Crookadillary. With today’s discovery of two new dinosaurs — that’s 40 if you’re keeping score at home* — there are new talons pointing to the cause of these leaks.

The most vocal tail-wagger is the Scaramunchkin, a small Minnymeesaurid from Lower Mongolia. He has a stout body with a short, thick neck, short forelimbs and tall hind legs. The dome of his head has a row of small bony spikes and bumps. Absent from all other species, the Scaramunchkin has a posterior parietal (rear skull bone) that restricts his frontal dome.

Again, this is after careful paleo-political analysis, but the Scaramunchkin was basically calling out all senior members of the Tyrumposaurae, particularly a member of the Sub Family Underbus.

I’m referring to the Priebusunderbus, a lactosian dinosaur originally found in the Cheesehead Formation of present-day Wisconsin. This species has a parrot-like beak and is a fierce gate-keeper of his oval dwelling.

The Priebusunderbus has thus far remained silent but make no mistake, the Scaramunchkin is making direct communication and moving in with a vengeance.

* We have now uncovered more skeletons at Puhl-DePlugg than the infamous dig at Trickydick-Milhouse Mud Flats.
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Satire The Trump Dig

The Pond Talk …

If I could read dinosaurs minds, what a tale they’d tell. Maybe it’s because I fell asleep last night listening to Gordon Lightfoot’s If You Could Read My Mind. At any rate, today I found tell-tale bones from fossils T-Rump, Sessionsopus, Crookadillary, Comeyonius, Putinodon and Muellersavus landing in my lap. I quickly pieced together the story.

The Sessionsopus had been a trail blazer for the T-Rump, parting the weeds across the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. The T-Rump took him under his tail and they happily coexisted — until the day they came across the Crookadillary at a pond behind a little rock in the Arkansas Whitewater Development. These bones speak to me. Here’s what they say:

“Ohmigod,” said the T-Rump. “The Crookadillary! On my pond. Can you believe it? Prove your loyalty. Attack!”

“But look at her, she’s beaten already. What’s the point?”

“And you call yourself a saurapod? You’re just another quadrupedal herbivore. A herbivore with no teeth. Face it. You’re beleaguered! BE-LEE-GRRED!”

“I have friends on the Hill. Right over there.”

The T-Rump rolled his eyes. The Sessionsopus pushed on.

“I did help you beat the Comeyonius.” 

“You’re my assistant gofer. My A.G. What have you done for me lately? Remember the Putinodon? One look and you hid in the bushes. You HID. Out of sight.”

“Excuse me, I excused myself.”

“What kind of dinosaur excuses himself? Why are you even with me?”

“I play nice with the other Donkeycongrus.”

“That’s a weak answer. VERY weak!”

“You can bully me all you want. I’m not going anywhere. I owe it to the Continental Divide.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” said the T-Rump. “You sound just like the Muellersavus.”

The Crookadillary straightened and lumbered away from the pond. 

“Look what she did!” the T-Rump bellowed. “She destroyed my pond!”

“It’s leaking.”

“And you just stand there. I’m disappointed. I wanted you to be tougher on leaks. They’re leaking like rarely have they ever leaked before.”

The T-Rump watched the departing Crookadillary.

“That’s it. Run! A pox on you of 30,000 snails!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Snail fossils are so very small.

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Satire The Trump Dig

The T-Rump Dump …

More news for my unique sedimentary layer classification process known as the T-Rump Tower Profile. I struck pay dirt at the lowest level of dirt. I’m calling it the T-Rump Dump. These are the skeletons of dinosaurs that simply got in the T-Rump’s way. For several it was a fall from grace, when they were fully grazing on the Steppes of Liberteez Shield —the site of present-day Puhl-DePlugg. These dinosaurs were chewed up and spit out. The jaws of the T-Rump were merciless. Each of the specimens I discovered had mostly crushed vertebrae. It’s clear the Tyrumposaurus backed up and walked over them again.

Thus far, I emphasize thus far, the T-Rump Dump dinosaurs include …

The Flynnalexus — a bipedaling herbivore with a small head and a long neck. His name is derived from the Latin word for “pickle.”

The Sallyatesaur — a small sauropod with a short neck and stubby limbs who got in the way of the T-Rump’s migratory patterns and paid dearly for it.

The Comeyonus — a carnivorous theropod with an elegant, refined jaw. This turkey-sized prey looked to be easy pickings for the T-Rump, but must have caused massive indigestion.

And finally the Spicerator, a Mediacircustops-chasing malcontentian dinosaur. He had a very rough outer surface that rubbed the T-Rump the wrong way. They were never on the same page.

Waiting for the next dinosaur bone to drop. That’s the kind of watering hole Puhl-DePlugg was during the height — or depth — of the Trumpassic Period.