Come for the politics, stay for the snark.

But frankly mr. cole, I’ll be happier when you get back to telling us to go fuck ourselves.

You are so fucked. Still, I wish you the best of luck.

Reality always gets a vote in the end.

How stupid are these people?

The National Guard is not Batman.

Historically it was a little unusual for the president to be an incoherent babbling moron.

Trump’s cabinet: like a magic 8 ball that only gives wrong answers.

Find someone who loves you the way trump and maga love traitors.

Cancel the cowardly Times and Post and set up an equivalent monthly donation to ProPublica.

Giving in to doom is how we fail to fight for ourselves & one another.

You cannot shame the shameless.

The republican ‘Pastor’ of the House is an odious authoritarian little creep.

DeSantis transforming Florida into 1930s Germany with gators and theme parks.

Relentless negativity is not a sign that you are more realistic.

When do we start airlifting the women and children out of Texas?

Optimism opens the door to great things.

“The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.”

Republicans do not pay their debts.

Trump should be leading, not lying.

Disappointing to see gov. newsom with his finger to the wind.

If you voted for Trump, you don’t get to speak about ethics, morals, or rule of law.

Give the craziest people you know everything they want and hope they don’t ask for more? Great plan.

No offense, but this thread hasn’t been about you for quite a while.

You passed on an opportunity to be offended? What are you even doing here?

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5Comments

  2. 2.

    greg

    Not to nitpick, but wasn’t it 1997 when the Indians–or Native Americans for our leftist friends–lost to the Marlins?

  3. 3.

    mark

    And I was THIS close to getting you a gift from your wish list, Pittsburgh lover, and you had to remind me of last night.

    sigh

  4. 4.

    Johno

    Greg, nitpick away. It’s a link to my post, and therefore my idiot typo. That night in ’97, after the Indians coughed up the victory to Florida, I drank two 40s’ of St. Ides and crashed my K-Car into a mountainside. The resulting blackout seems to have scrambled my memory; which is what I was going for, but not enough to actually erase the memory of the loss. Just enough to make me get the date wrong.

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