My Prison Nightmare

Life’s unfair. You know it, I know it, every respectable white, middle-aged man in a business suit knows it. If life was fair, I would have been better at converting .pdfs. If life was fair, my perfectly legitimate business in the former Soviet Union wouldn’t be tarred as “shady business dealings” by liberal media scumbags. If life was fair, the federal judge would have seen Mueller’s witch hunt for what it is and dismissed the case against me.

But that’s not the world we live in. Dark forces have turned me into another statistic of America’s carceral system. Like Nelson Mandela, I’m a political prisoner. My suffering is exquisite.

For those of you who have never been on the inside, brace yourself: I’ll describe – in nightmarish detail – the prison hellscape I’m forced to endure.

I’ve been sequestered in a private, self-contained living unit. My captors say it’s bigger than the other cells, but I think they’re strategically lying to make themselves look good in my tell-all book. Guess what, assholes? It won’t work. Not until you remove the bars from my windows.

I have my own bathroom, but the warden refused my request to have a bidet installed. To add insult to injury, the toilet paper they supplied me is one-ply. One ply?! Does man’s inhumanity to man know no bounds?

The water pressure in my personal shower is lackluster at best.

I can come and go as I please between the hours of 8:30 a.m. and 10 p.m., but they won’t let me leave prison grounds. Not even when I offer to have a sizable sum anonymously transferred to their bank accounts via an untraceable third party!

Most painfully of all, they gave me my own telephone, but I’m paranoid Witch Hunter Bob is listening in. I haven’t called any of my Russian oligarch friends in weeks. I have to communicate with them using an encrypted email service instead. Somebody get me out of here!

This is my darkest hour, but I’m certain I’ll overcome adversity and leave the joint more powerful than ever. I’m even thinking about getting a prison tattoo, if the warden will allow Mister Cartoon to bring in his full tat rig. I’m thinking… crying eagle on my chest?




EXCLUSIVE: Leaked Private Message From The President To Special Councel Mueller

Surreptitiously leaked to Rise Of The Lizard People this morning by our own version of Deep Throat, the following is a private message sent to Special Counsel Robert Mueller by the Office of the President of the United States following the indictments of Paul Manafort, Rick Gates and George Papadopoulos. We’ve confirmed its veracity through the usual method of haruspicy, and can now confidently enter its unabridged contents into the public record.

To Special Investigator Robert Mueller
From The Office of the President
October 30, 2017

Re: Wiping the floor with you

Ty Cobb begged me to stop sending you these little letters once their existence became public, but you know what? Fuck him. And more importantly, fuck you, Bob.

I’m going to stick my boot so far up your ass you’ll need a colostomy bag for the rest of your life. You think the law is on your side? The president is above the law.

No one cares about your investigation. It’s tired. It’s played out. My fans have about as much interest in it as they have in my tax returns. The only “conspiracy against the United States” is the one you’re in with Crooked Hillary.

Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to wind down your investigation. You’ve got nothing on me. Nothing worth taking a long swim in the Atlantic with specially fitted shoes. Or maybe you’d like a tour of rural Kentucky? I know some very fine people who told me about a very isolated place they use for target practice.

You’ll leave the two things I care about most in this world alone: my money and me. Oh, and my family. Make that three things.

But I’m just joking. I’m a funny guy. Ha ha! See? I’m laughing. Because I’m not afraid to fire you. It’s what I’m know for. How would you like to be charged with a little conspiracy of your own? Are you really willing to risk your reputation over this?

Look, I’m not a bad guy. Maybe I’ll go easy on you if you quit now and join a certain exclusive Florida resort. Your choice, Bob. Think on it.

P.S. Good luck finding the orb, asshole.

Dictated but not read,

Donald J. Trump
45th President of the United States and owner of Mar a Lago Resort

(Year Zero/Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Four)

Daily Melange

I can’t stop thinking about Sean Spicer.

America’s newest patron saint of live-televised fuck-ups elevated his game to historic levels this week.

After incorrectly saying that Hitler did not use chemical weapons in WWII, President Trump’s thumb-headed mouth piece referred to a concentration camp as a “Holocaust center.”

I’ve wondered about the actual intelligence level of Spicer for some time now.

I get it.

Not everyone in the Trump Administration is stupid, but surely that doesn’t disqualify Spicer from being a few fries short of a happy meal.

This is a guy who’s used the height of two separate stacks of paper as a core talking point.

Remember his first interaction with the press?

It’s gotten to the point where one can easily argue that Spicer at the very least is grossly incompetent.

And I don’t want to hear about him being a diversion. Likening concentration camps to giant Nazi Targets with “Holocaust Center” in block letters emblazoned on the front of the building is so laughably absurd that I literally had to make sure I was not tripping acid before accepting what he said as reality.

Personally, I think Trump has kept Spicer around to appease GOP brass and not look weak by firing his administration’s senior media White House official.

There’s also the possibility that Spicey’s clung to the gig so long because his gaffes are distractive explosions across all platforms of media.

Remember when Neil Gorsuch was sworn in to the Supreme Court?

Will this outrage override the revelations regarding Paul Manafort?

Regardless, I think if you have to call Sheldon Adelson and try to apologize to the entire Jewish people, you are probably going to be fired.

My guess is Trump gives him the axe within the next week.

Heads are already rolling and you might as well cut ties and distance yourself from a guy who you already are concerned looks too much like Melissa McCarthy anyway.

I will miss those sketches though.

Then again, the spice must flow.