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Remember the days of consensus reality, before everyone right of Mitt Romney’s dog simultaneously took the brown acid, hurtled headlong through an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and found themselves piled up like cordwood inside Donald Trump’s commodious clown car of a rectum?

Back in the day, shit like this didn’t happen:

x

Sure, whatever. Reality is now optional, like sprinkles on your frozen yogurt. Why be bothered with it at all? “I was gonna posit a material substrate to the universe and a theory of object permanence, but I got high.”

Also, “Hysterical Talking Points” could be the name of Sean Hannity’s show. Or Tucker Carlson’s.

Guess they learned projection from the top man in his field.

Is Trump still singeing your sphincter? Then Dear F*cking Lunatic: 101 Obscenely Rude Letters to Donald Trump and its super-fun sequels Dear Pr*sident A**clown: 101 More Rude Letters to Donald Trump and Dear F*cking Moron: 101 More Letters to Donald Trump by Aldous J. Pennyfarthing are the pick-me-up you need! Reviewers have called these books “hysterically funny,” “cathartic,” and “laugh-out-loud” comic relief. And they’re way, way cheaper than therapy.