Here we are.

The dogs have sprung from their caves, muzzles saturated with blood and baring their sabre sharp teeth that are eager to rend.

The Jackal King is a slavering cretin with the heart of a pimp, the soul of a harpy, and the self restraint of Jeffrey Dahmer. Hate drips from his fangs and anyone not rich enough or white enough are shit stained peasants that must be put in their place.

It’s time to hunker down, sharpen your swords, and load your muskets. The Spanos family has rented out the Lincoln bedroom and will turn it into a water sports facility. The Koch Brothers have caves and pillboxes crammed with oak ax handles, hobnailed boots, brown shirts, and brass knuckles. They’ll be handed out to Cro Magnons with blood under their fingernails and wads of tobacco in their cheeks, their brains infested with hate swollen leeches.

We all know how Trump got to where he is – riding a poisonous wave of white guy rage. (I am white and middle aged and pissed off a lot of the time, but I didn’t let blood lust and racism erase my ability to think.)

And to be fair, Hillary’s posse completely fucked up when it came to reading the tea leaves. They thought, “Well, she deserves to be president, so it’s a slam dunk.” That’s killer strategy. I assume the syphilis rotted their brains, and the seeping pus hindered their ability to do their job. Her personality and sleazy cohabitating with power mongers didn’t help.

As for Trump’s chance at success, I heard many people chirp, “He’ll surround himself with a cabinet of advisors who will guide him and help shape national policy.” Please. He wants to make America great again, as long as it’s on his terms and to his liking.

Right now, ISIS is having a suicide vest preparation party, the Russians are licking their lips with anticipation, and every other cheap jack dictator and warlord have blue balls the size of coconuts, and they want release, and they could get it. Close minded, thick headed, racist administrations bring the kind of instability and opportunities these dolts crave. It is their bread and butter, their blood and bullets.

In my lifetime, the common rule that I have found to be true is the more bluster and bullshit a person slings, the less he knows. Volume and bombast are the tools of a dimwitted blowhard.  He uses force and intimidation because he fears intelligence and facts because he refuses to believe that he can be wrong. His skull is filled with fat, offal, and intermittent blasts of shrieking white noise.

My biggest fear is that the Fourth Estate continue on its course. Journalism, real journalism, has been shoved deep into a slimy pit, and it’s too weak and scab ridden to emerge into the sunlight. We are fed lies, innuendos, opinions, and steaming platters of shit instead of facts delivered by professionals who refuse to be compromised while remaining neutral. And no one questions a thing. They open their maws and inhale, without giving it another thought.

Maybe this administration will inspire the press to do their job the right way, instead of chasing sensationalism and trash for a few more clicks on their website – or more face time on a network. I piss on you. Walter Cronkite and H.L. Mencken would ram rusty flagpoles up every one of your asses, and that would just be the beginning.

There is a narrow chance, as narrow as a super model’s ass crack, that this administration will fail upward. Unfortunately, there is a better chance that mistakes will be made that are almost unsolvable. Then what will happen?

Many of the jerkoffs that I “know” on social media predict the end of the Republic. The shuttering of America. Please, cut the fucking shit. If you think that a country like America would be ended by the likes of this cheap, empty headed bastard, then you should drown in an ocean of piss warm Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I honestly believe that the fear generated by this gang of thieves will galvanize a great deal of Americans. Black, white, immigrant, illegal, man, woman, and Peter King will use their voices to demand a change. Call me ignorant or stupid, just like my wife, but this is what I cling to. I cling to it like I would to the bosom of Kate Upton. This is worth noting, because I love tits.

This means I believe in my country. Yes, our ills and shortcomings are longer than Peter North’s man rod. Many have been with us since our birth, and why they have not been solved by the men and women of this country is not because they are overwhelming, but because those in charge encourage it – so no one can see the real problem

But remember this, Americans love a good fight. They love to band together against a common enemy – and yes, sometimes you get “We Are the World”. Other times, you are amazed when citizens gather together and correct a wrong, or perform acts of kindness and brotherhood. (Like that time I talked to a Steelers fan and didn’t stab him in the eyes with a sharp stick.)

A word of advice, do not hate. They want you to hate because it clouds your vision and causes you to perform acts of the dumb. Hatred impedes their opponents from working together, and they are happy with that. Happier than rats presented with a trough full of feces, rotting meat, and sewer scrapings.

I will remain vigilant against this filthy coven of miscreants. The bunker is safe and warm; the guns are oiled and stacked neatly next to the grenades. I have barrels of pasta and meatballs hermetically sealed, and the walk-in refrigerator holds beer and bourbon. DVDs, books, dynamite and black powder are on hand to spice things up when the going gets dull.

I am prepared for the apocalypse, but I remain hopeful.

Thing that Made Me Happy

I arrived at baseball practice to watch my oldest son hitting balls, and his form was perfect. I’ll be honest, my eyes leaked some strange salty liquid and my heart swelled to bursting. Minutes later he said I was mean for not taking him out to dinner.