Orange fuckwit has already let his namesake numbskull kid, and his son-in-law/husband of his dreamgirl take shrapnel for him. Now he’s proposing to throw his fifth-grader under the bus as well?

Good for you! Spencer may be closer to the orange urinal cake than he would care to admit.

As a longtime marcomms person, I wish to give you all the stars.

Your mom is good people.

There would’ve been a goddamn civil war over it. Remember how mad the Tea Party was back then? They would’ve commandeered tanks and invaded the White House if the Dems had even whispered the words “single payer.”

You and I might have the same dad, or be the same person.

They plan to wait until enough of this country’s population has either died or emigrated. Not joking.

That may be where he got the idea—some ancient life insurance commercial. He gets most of his garbled ideas from TV. (Example: the “terrorist attacks in Sweden.” Remember that incident? It seems like a lifetime ago.)

THIS. This is exactly what I’m living for.

Being mad at our allies while bending over and grabbing one’s ankles for our enemies is the new tinfoil hat

Five years ago I may have giggled a little at your tinfoil hat. Tonight, I invite you to join my ragtag fugitive fleet as we scour the universe for a better planet.

One of my dark, evil hopes is that when the orange pustule is eventually tried and convicted, he’ll lose whatever money and property he has left to civil forfeiture. Otherwise, it’s a horrific practice.

Agreed. I loathe his politics, but glioblastoma is a hideous disease.

SWEET JEBUS, that’s worse than my barfing on the dim sum lady story. Was the dude drunk? Maybe he was drunk.

The backpack PSAs failed miserably in Chicago. May you have better luck in your fair city. (If not, may you be able to work from home as I do.)

If that happened on a CTA bus in Chicago, she would’ve never made it home. People have been beaten to a bloody pulp for less. (Not at all kidding.) 

I don’t understand the whole coffee on the subway thing. You just paid eight bucks for whatever gargantuan sugar and cream laden beverage at Starbucks, you get to have three sips of it, then you spill it all over your fellow passengers (and they hate you for the rest of your life), you get into work, and it sits, cold…

It was standard policy (IIRC) many years ago when I rode the DC metro. It’s policy (the food part, anyway) on Chicago’s public transit. And people break this rule all the goddamn time. I don’t want to offend anyone’s sensibilities, or I’d tell y’all about the time fifteen years ago that I barfed on a hipster chick…

Yes to this, perhaps with a dash of blood orange bitters as well.

Now I know what I’m having for dinner. Thank you!