Tag: The T-Rump Dig

Slurp. Slurp. Lick. Lick. Slurp. Lick.

Tongues wagged, saliva dripped and the mass exfoliation continued upon the Tyrumposaurus’ soiled, stinky feet. It was the daily foot-licking session in the Oval Dwelling. The Stephenmillerus, the Mickmulvaney, the Linseygraham, the Jimjordan and the Markmeadows were all in attendance, wet dino tongues at the ready.

The group was on it’s second go-around of the T-Rump’s left foot when another Grandoldparty dino’s shadow darkened the doorway.

“Hmmph,” said the T-Rump. “Justin-the-Amash. I know you’re not here to lick my feet.”

“No, I prefer washing by hand. I just wanted to let you all know … I’ve been to the mountain. And I have a dream. Oops. Sorry, wrong speech.”

The other dinos in the cave eyed him queerly. Justin-the-Amash was an Apostolic dino from the sacred Flakes-of-Kellogg region of Michigonia. They knew him to be the most conservative dino. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve come back from Mount Sigh’n Cry. I’ve seen the footprints! The 10 Muellersavus footprints. I went over them for 40 days and 40 nights. That’s four days per footprint. Have any of you even spent one second looking at one footprint?”

There were uncomfortable coughs followed by obligatory mumbling and yammering all around. The other dinos stared off into different corners of the cave, unable to look their visitor in the face. All except for the T-Rump of course.

“I am very, very proud that I can’t, I mean … don’t read.” He frowned. “You’ve got everybody’s attention now. Go ahead, tell us what you saw.”

Justin-the-Amash became starry, glassy and wide-eyed all at the same time. His long tail was ramrod straight. Indeed, he appeared to be having a religious experience.

“It was a revelation. A revelation I must finally shout long and loud to the masses. First, the epistolary …”

“The what?” asked the T-Rump.

“Footprints in the sand,” the Stephenmillerus said, leaning towards his boss. Justin-the-Amash stared down the T-Rump.

“There are ten, count’em, TEN examples of you obstructing justice.”

The other dinos withdrew in shock, like they’d just had a short arm bitten off. This couldn’t be happening. Sure, Justin-the-Amash had been a regular critic of the T-Rump but … This. Was. Huge.

“It is clear the Williambarr intended to hoodwink the dinos about the Muellersavus’ analysis and findings. The Williambarr’s misrepresentations were significant but often subtle, sleight-of-hand qualifications or logical fallacies which he hoped dinos wouldn’t notice.”

Each word from Justin-the-Amash was like a poke in the ribs to his stunned audience. It would get worse. The Mickmulvaney had already curled into the fetal position.

“The T-Rump’s conduct has violated the public trust. He has engaged in specific actions and has shown a pattern of behavior for high crimes and misdemeanors. A crime does not have to be committed. The requirement is only to find that an official dino has engaged in careless, abusive, corrupt, or otherwise dishonorable conduct. But allow me to continue with my revelation.”

The other dinos leaned forward with rapt attention. Grandoldparty dinos were always up for a good revelation. Two years of half-baked strategies, hail-mary passes and abrupt stonewalling had sapped their imaginations. Justin-the-Amash’s eyes gathered in his audience.

“Dinos, if this behavior from the T-Rump continues, we’re talking about the Apocalypse. That’s right. Dino extinction.”

The dinos shuddered. The Mickmulvaney pulled his hand from his mouth.

“Mama.”

“Then there’s the prophetic.”

“Who’s pathetic?” asked the T-Rump.

“Prophetic. It begins with the Mitchgetbacktowork in the Kongrus Kave, reading a footprint in the sand to the Gang of Eight. He describes a series of prophetic visions. First there’s the Seven-Headed Subpoenasaurus. Then there’s the Serpent and the Beast. That’s you and the Williambarr. Finally, this culminates in …”

Justin-the-Amash stopped, fixing his gaze on the leader of the dino nation. The T-Rump looked around the room.

“Would someone puh-lease tell me what the hell he’s talking about?”

Even the Stephenmillerus couldn’t bring himself to say the word. The other dinos had long since buried their heads. The Mickmulvaney was reduced to whimpering lullabies his mother taught him.

“T-Rump,” said Justin-the-Amash. “You have engaged in impeachable conduct. Impeachable. Need I remind you, our Continental Footprint is brilliant and awesome; it deserves a dino leader to match it.”

The T-Rump jumped from his squat.

“Impeachment!? Justin-the-Amash, I was never a fan of you. You’re a total lightweight. A loser!”

“Are you even listening? No, of course not. That’s why I’m making a stand right here. Right now. Who’s with me?”

He looked around the cave at the other dinos cowering in silence. Just then the Huckabeecyclops burst into the Oval Dwelling.

“What is it, Huckabee?” asked the T-Rump. “I told you we’d celebrate 10 weeks without a Mediacircustops briefing later.”

“It’s that damn Newyorktimesian dino again.”

“What fake news now?”

“They’re saying five dinos claim you and the Kushneratops engaged in suspicious activity with moolah-moolah leaves on the banks of the River Deutsche. Also, that the Kushneratops sent moolah-moolah to the Russodinos. Can you believe it? Don’t worry, boss. If they catch me outside the Oval Dwelling, I’ll make like I’m going to eat them, then deny everything.”

She turned and stomped out of the cave. The T-Rump and his followers lowered their heads somewhere between grief and consternation. Justin-the-Amash rose to leave.

“Well, my mind’s made up. You can come with me … or stay and discuss all those other investigations. How many are there now … 20?”

Justin-the-Amash left the Grandoldparty group, their tails planted firmly between their legs. He would be the first. One for truth. One for justice. One for the exodus.

“You want to run that by me again?”

Milkanhoney Preservation District Dino Judge, the Amitmehta, stared down from his lofty, rocky perch at the T-Rump legal dino, the Williamconsovoy.

“Certainly, your long-tailedness. You see, we simply can’t have those dastardly Donkeykongrus dinos peeking at the moolah-moolah leaves of the T-Rump. It’s an assault on his privacy, his trustworthiness and — this is paramount — his marketing image.”

“But they are an oversight committee.”

“I suggest they send their sights over there,” the legal dino said, pointing flippantly off to the side. “Anywhere but in the T-Rump’s business.”

“So …” the judge paused, his eyeballs burrowing into his skull, “you’re saying the T-Rump’s moolah-moolah is not subject to investigation?”

“Yep.”

“The Kongrus Kave can’t verify the accuracy of the T-Rump’s statements about his moolah-moolah?”

“Never. Ever.”

“Riddle me this, then,” said the Amitmehta. “If the T-Rump was involved in some corrupt goings-on, you mean to tell me because he’s the leader of the Milkanhoney Preservation, the Kongrus Kave would not have power to investigate?”

“That’s pretty much about it. It’s, ahem … not pursuant to it’s legislative agenda. Not purr-soo-ant.”

He said the words like they were a get out of jail card.

“Well then,” said the judge. “Why don’t we take a peek at a wee fly in the ointment called legal precedent? Like, perhaps the Watergate Strait? I’m specifically speaking of whether or not the Trickydickeroo’s corrupt goings-on should’ve been shielded from the Kongrus Kave’s scrutiny. Well? Should it?”

Beads of sweat rolled down the Williamconsovoy’s face. This was a glaring symptom of what would come to be known as ASS. Acute Sycophant Syndrome. How far was the Williamconsovoy willing to go for the T-Rump?

“Ahem, well .. uh … you see … uh … I guess I’d have to um, look at some, uh … more specific questions  … (cough, cough) … surrounding that controversy.”

“Objection!”

It was the Rudygiuliani, rising from his squat behind the dino defense’s rocky bench. A shocked Williamconsovoy turned to him.

“Objection? We’re on the same team.”

“He’s got you on the ropes, Willy boy. Time for me to take over.”

The Rudygiuliani looked up, squinted, his eyes finally finding the judge.

“Your long-tailedness. This Watergate Strait thing. I’ve got to tell you, it was an out-and-out frame job of a cover-up of a media circus from the very start.”

“Oh?”

“Of course it was. You have five dinos nabbed in the Watergate Strait. A classic case of wrong place at the wrong time. Have you seen that maze of caves? Very, very easy to get lost.”

“How do you explain the slush fund these dinos were paid from? That was moolah-moolah earmarked for the Trickydickeroo’s next battle campaign.”

“Canvassing, Judge. They were simply canvassing.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Why not? I myself have several neighbours who are nocturnal.”

“Apparently I need to remind you that 48 dinos were found guilty during the Watergate Strait scandal.”

“48? Well, there you go. We only have 34 on the hook so far. No comparison, judge. Apples and oranges.”

The dino judge Amitmehta’s scowl simmered on high.

“Should we have just let the Trickydickeroo do as he pleased, like the Saturday Night Massacre?”

“Okay, granted. That got a little out of hand. But, c’mon. We’ve all had the munchies, right?”

“What about the Smockinggun?”

You could hear a pin drop. The Williamconsovoy sighed. This was it. They’d finally gone too far. The jig was up. There was no stopping Rudy however.

“Smockinggun? The tapeworms? Another misunderstanding.”

“No Smockinggun?”

“No sirree. That was indigestion.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s simple. The dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation were simply not ready to digest what the Trickydickeroo said. Give them time. 45 years later, now they’re ready.”

“But the cover-up. The impeachment.”

“Ah, yes. The “I” word. The Donkeykongrus is not saying that now because they know the groundswell of support it would give the T-Rump.”

The incredulous judge could only shake his head.

“I have a good mind to ask you to provide a character witness this minute to assure me you’re not criminally insane.”

The Rudygiuliani smirked, turning to the dino audience of the court cave, giving them a full profile of his false bravado. His eyebrows rose however, as his gaze found the Flynnhasbeen.

“Mike! So good to see you. You heard the judge. Care to say a few words?”

“Rudy! No!” hissed the Williamconsovoy. But it was too late. The Flynnhasbeen rose from his squat. He wasn’t smiling. For the first time since planning, then quickly canceling a trip to Ukrainia the week before, the Rudygiuliani appeared nervous.

“Rudy,” said the Flynnhasbeen. “I’m not sure I can find the right words–”

“Okay, okay. Right you are. Tell him — tell him about the T-Rump legal team then.”

“Oh, well. Actually, I already have. I helped the Muellersavus for months. I told him how the T-Rump’s legal dino, the Dowderpuff, threatened me, obstructing justice, believe it or not. The Muellersavus is believing it. I have the footprints in the sand to prove it. Verbatim.”

“Objection!”

It was the Williamconsovoy’s turn to erupt from his squat.

“Your long-tailedness, I’d like to claim executive privilege on what was just said. Just those last couple of sentences. Puh-lease strike them from the record. ”

A curt, condescending smile spread wide on the judge’s lips.

“Sorry. Too late. Ahem. I’ve had about all the legal blather, bluster and b.s. I can stand for one day. Dino court is adjourned.”

He rose and hammered his tail on the flat rock before him.

The Rudygiuliani went googly-eyed while the Williamconsovoy raised a short arm.

“Your long-tailedness, you can’t go. What are we gonna do? We can’t go back to the T-Rump. He’ll destroy us.”

The dino judge paused, turning to them.

“I hear the Walmartarus is hiring. As greeters, it’s pretty hard to screw up hello and goodbye, but I know you’ll try.”

“Donald!”

The Tyrumposaurus cocked an ear and frowned. Damn. It was the Tymelania. He swallowed the rest of his Dietcoker and trudged to the doorway of the Oval Dwelling.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“What do you want?”

“I’m your wife, remember?”

“Your point?”

Her alluring gaze heated instantly to one of scorched-earth policy if he didn’t grant her entrance. He gulped and motioned her in. Three marriages later, some things managed to stick to his walnut. The dino couple found opposing rocks to squat on. Initial goal accomplished, she softened her glare.

“It is Year Two of Be Best.”

“Not really. It’s Year Three of Me.”

“Donald, the lady dinos. They are afraid of being Hillary’d.” She sighed. “They don’t know what it is to be Melania’d.”

“Hey, I brought your parents over, didn’t I? I had to use some major clout. Or have you already forgotten that I’m keeping every other dino out?”

The shocked Tymelania struggled for words.

“Your … your mother-in-law.”

“Please. You’re winning my argument.”

She steeled herself.

“Donald. You be best.”

“I already am.”

“Are you? The Rudygiuliani said he will go to Ukrainia to find dirt on Joebiden. One day later, he changes mind. He blames dinosaur he can’t name. Rudy is lousy liar. This is best?”

“Rudy is a great liar, the best personal legal dino I could find.”

“Then you are mad at Iranasaurus. But you tell Swisscheese dinos to tell Iranasaurus to call you when it is time to talk. You wait for Iranasaurus to call Swisscheese? Are you dino or little doggy? That is not best.”

“Are you done yet?”

“No. No. No. Blanket no. That is you to Donkeykongrus. What is that? Nothing done. Nothing. Nothing is best?”

“It is when it buys me time until the November battle next year. That’s all I care about.”

“I see crack, Donald. Big crack.”

“Well, this is my birthday suit.”

“No. Crack in your dino followers. Richardburr sent subpoenasaurus after your own son.”

“Thanks for reminding me. The Richardburr’s career is over. I will ruin him!”

Normally the T-Rump would lash out with his tail, carving another large groove in the wall. But he had long since tired of trying to impress his wife. She knew him for the grifter dino he was.

“And Larrykudlow.” She almost grinned as she said this.

“Larry? What about Larry?”

“You send big Tariffraptor to attack Xijinping and Chopstickchowmein.”

“Of course I did. They’ve been kicking us around the Red Square Trade Block for years. They will pay for what they’ve done.”

“Larry said the Milkanhoney Preservation dinos will pay.”

“He did?”

She smiled sweetly at him.

“Richardburr be best. Larrykudlow be best. Maybe I find other dino be best.”

A look of horror crossed the T-Rump’s face. Without the Tymelania, he was most certainly a Lame Duckbill dino. He threw himself at her dry, scaly feet.

“Don’t leave me! Please! I blame it all on the Nancypelosi. It’s all her fault. She said I was trying to goad the Donkeykongrus into impeaching me. She’s right! She’s in my head. She knows every thought I think! She scares the hell outta me, Melania. She’s killing me. Please stay with me, sweetheart. Please don’t go. I need you.”

The Tymelania pursed her wide-mouthed lips, considering her options.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay.”

“Uh, so I look good in front of the Mediacircustops?”

“We can’t trust him! We can’t.”

The T-Rump glared at the sorry lot of sycophants before him.

“He is a legal dino,” offered the Stephenmillerus.

“And he liked you. Once,” said the Mickmulvaney.

“You just watch,” said the T-Rump. “When he gets in front of the Jerrynadler’s Kongrus Kave committee, he’s gonna sing like a canary!”

He was speaking of course of the Donmcgahn, former dino counsel for the Oval Dwelling, who after a hop and a skip through a day and a week eventually found himself before the Jerrynadler and said committee. The T-Rump and the T-Rump Jr. lurked in the shadows out of sight, a most natural instinct for predatory dinosaurs.

The Donmcgahn addressed the dino chair.

“Before I begin, in framing my response, I thought I might better capture the spirit of the evidence I’m about to give. Therefore, I have a special request.”

“What is it?”

“Would it be okay if I sing?”

“I knew it!” hissed the T-Rump.

The Jerrynadler squinted back at the Donmcgahn.

“I guess that would be okay. We do have several items we’d like to discuss–”

And with that the Donmcgahn rose from his squat and began singing.

“In the first case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

To the Inaugural Party.

In the second case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the third case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the fourth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

For witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the fifth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the sixth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the seventh case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the eighth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Ain’t great money launderers, seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the ninth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Nine thousand lies and counting, ain’t great money launderers, seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the tenth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Ten years to lose one billion, nine thousand lies and counting, ain’t great money launderers, seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the eleventh case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Eleven plus nineteen mil from N-R-A, ten years to lose one billion, nine thousand lies and counting, ain’t great money launderers, seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

In the twelfth case of T-Rump’s mess, the judge will say, Guilty!

Dozens of illegals on staff, eleven plus nineteen mil from N-R-A, ten years to lose one billion, nine thousand lies and counting, ain’t great money launderers, seven times four security clearances, 666 Saudi bail-out, five golden showers–I mean emoluments, for witness tampering, thee Deutsche Bank, two hush payments and the Inaugural Party.

The Donmcgahn bowed to the committee and returned to his squat. The Kongrus Kave rose as one, applauding heartily, their short arms flapping away. The T-Rump Jr. hopped out of the shadows.

“Oh, yeah? Well, two can play that game. You want me to sing, dad? Let me sing. I’ll show’em.”

“W-h-i-i-i- … W-h-i-i-i- …”

Try as she might, the Huckabeecyclops simply couldn’t whistle on her way to work. But she wouldn’t let that spoil her Monday. Not a chance.

I have the best job in the world she thought. I don’t have to do anything. Once upon a time the press secretary briefed the Mediacircustops every day. Who needs that? She only needed to put in an appearance every six weeks. What a dream job.

There was one tricky issue however. Getting to the Oval Dwelling without being noticed by the Mediacircustops and their damn questions. Always with the questions. She changed her route to work every day as a precaution. Today’s route took her through a rattlesnake pit, a crocodile-infested swamp and a wild and woolly mammoth retreat.

Almost there she thought, following the 28th wolf whistle from one of the retreat’s wild and woollier mammoths. Just another mile to the underground tunnel.

“Huckabee!”

“What?!”

Dammit. It was the Kaitlyncollins. That snarky little miss priss of the Mediacircustops. With those sassy eyes the Huckabeecyclops would gladly trade her own for. Damn her sassy eyes!

“When the Tyrumposaurus spoke with the Putinodon yesterday, did the T-Rump tell him not to interfere in next year’s November battle?”

“You’re obviously not listening. Have you forgotten Smelstinki already? Why in the world would the T-Rump insult the Putinodon when the Russodino already denied all past, present and future involvement?”

“What about Venezuela Villa? The Mikepompeo and the Johnbolton said that the Putinodon told the Nicholasmaduro to stay put but the T-Rump now says the Putinodon was never involved. Who’s telling the truth?”

“Pay attention, Kaitlyn. There’s a fake news lesson to be had here. Never run with a story until the Putinodon has spoken.”

“Is there any truth to the rumor that the Putinodon called the Russodino hoax a mountain reduced to a mole hill and it was the T-Rump who changed mole hill to mouse?”

The Huckabeecyclops lone eye was cycling like crazy. She lashed out.

“Are you accusing the T-Rump of mixing metaphors?!”

“How could I? He doesn’t know what one is. The Michaelcohen is going to the Solitary Sinkhole today. Is the T-Rump worried that his former legal dino will have one last damaging piece of information to use against the T-Rump?”

“We are in a state of total denial, I mean … we are blocking every Subpoenasaurus, every demand, every request. No more please and thank you. It’s Katie-bar-the-door and to hell with solicitors. All of them. How did it get this way? You just have to look at the previous dino administration. Terrible. Disgusting.”

“Do you have any examples, Huckabee?”

“Countless. But I refuse to do your job for you. Keep looking. You seem to be good at that. Remember, if it involves the Obamasaurus, it’s not harassment.”

“Another deadline comes this week for the Sin Hut committee to view the T-Rump’s mytaxes returnus. The Stevenmnuchin continues to ask for more time. Is this a delay tactic?”

“Nonsense! Have you seen the Stevenmnuchin work? S-l-o-o-o-w as a pig in a poke.”

“Meaning?”

“Look, sister, I’m tired of being asked to explain myself!”

“That’s your … uh, never mind. It’s been recently reported that the Charlesretig, head of the Mytaxes Returnus Service owned two rental luxury caves in Maui-Maui Land with the T-Rump’s name on them. The Charlesretig made a million moolah-moolah off them. With such a glaring conflict of interest, how on earth can he make an unbiased decision on releasing the T-Rump’s mytaxes returnus?”

“Well,” the Huckabeecyclops harrumphed. “You certainly didn’t get that information from me.”

“Of course not, we never get ANY information from you. For two years, nothing. No substance. Just deflection, spin and lies. I have half a mind to just throw it all away and follow you around for the rest of my life, heckling you whenever you sit down to eat.”

The Huckabeecyclops looked at her horrified.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Fake news,” the Kaitlyncollins said with a smirk.

For a second the Huckabeecyclops and the Kaitlyncollins connected on some remote, bizarre wavelength of feminine camaraderie. For all of two nanoseconds. It then snapped into oblivion. Kaitlyn eyed Huckabee coyly.

“Care to comment on what just happened there?”

“Since you asked … no.”

“Anything new on the Subpoenasaurus’ for the T-Rump’s moolah-moolah activities at the Deutsche River bank and his accounting dinos?”

“Don’t even go there. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Which, ahem … is why I’m here.”

“Well then, I’m not telling. Oops. Did I say that? You know the drill.”

“Oh, you mean go ask the dinosaur’s legal dino?”

“That’s about it. My, my, look at the time. I’ve got to get in to work. I have such a busy, busy day ahead of me.”

“Like?”

“Oh, gee. Where to begin? Well, there’s my one-hour morning shuck and slurp.”

“Excuse me?”

“Java beans. Need that caffeine to stay awake during my two-hour mani-pedi.”

“Two hours?”

“Have you seen my feet? Then there’s lunch. Ah, food. Glorious food. I’m a growing girl. And you know what they say. Big lunch. Big nap. I need my rest for this incredibly important position. Eight hours at night simply isn’t enough. Anything less, I get kind of cranky.”

“Huckabee, you’re paid to inform the dino nation.”

“One at a time. I’m talking with you right now, aren’t I? And I’ve been s-o-o-o-o-o transparent. I have nothing to hide. I really have to go.”

She hurried away, leaving the smirking Kaitlyncollins. The Huckabeecyclops made a mental note. Tomorrow take the Amazon giant bee route. She sighed. Oh well, another day, another 719 moolah-moolah leaves.