Sometimes, when they're so dishonest and so very stupid, satire is the only way. From the Substack:

Dearest Ophelia, I write to you from the gangrenous environs of “war-ravaged” Portland. I thought I had seen it all during my early days of service—Bosnia, Rwanda, Eric Trump’s gum line. But this, my dear, is truly odious.

Y es, this may be no Bowling Green Massacre. Or an escalator that has ceased ferrying one’s margarine exterior up 18 whole steps. But, I am a trifle discomfited by the many challenges we face on this Wednesday, 29th of September, anno Domini nosti Jesus Christi, 2025.

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Sure, some call our President a prize hog at the country fair, one who rolls around in the very primordial ooze from which he hast been made . An irascible, implacable, mushroom-d*k-impotent, in

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