So I wrote this book. Somewhere between banging out blog posts, refreshing FiveThirtyEight like a lab monkey jonesing for cocaine pellets, and trying on endless pairs of Trump-stompin’ boots at Payless, I managed to finish a whole book.
And it’s now available, just in time for you to pop some popcorn, sit back in your Biden 2020 beanbag chair, and watch the Abominable Showman flop about like a big, bug-eyed carp in the bottom of a rowboat for the next two-plus months.
Trump may not have accepted the results of last week’s election (Joe Biden won, in case you hadn’t heard), but most of the rest of the world is all-in on consensus reality. So it’s time to 1) exhale and 2) laugh our butts off for the rest of eternity at this loser clown.
And you can get a head start on that with the help of the very first history of the Trump presidency! This book and its prequels — Dear Fcking Lunatic, Dear Fcking Moron, and Dear Pr*sident A**clown — comprise a complete recounting of the Trump years … but from a now-safe distance — and with jokes! Lots and lots of jokes!
And because I ❤ y’all, here’s an excerpt you won’t get from the “Look Inside” feature on Amazon:
April 13, 2020
- The Trump campaign files a defamation suit against a Rhinelander, Wisconsin, television station for airing an ad critical of Trump’s coronavirus response.
From the Desk of Aldous J. Pennyfarthing
To: Donald J. Trump, arsebadger
Okay, I’ve actually been to Rhinelander. It’s not a town so much as two elderly men and a seagull fighting over a bag of Ruffles. The TV station there probably still airs polka shows on Sunday mornings. The anchors and reporters are all either 22-year-old women right out of college desperately wishing they were somewhere else or talentless old men with nowhere else to go. Kind of like Mar-a-Lago, in other words.
Suing the Rhinelander TV station (and, yes, there’s only one) is like dropkicking a crackhead gerbil with MS. What the fuck are you even doing?
How many TV stations aired this ad? Are you too scared to go after a New York or LA station? Is it because the attorney for WJFW in Rhinelander already works 80 hours a week selling nightcrawlers out of the back of his VW Rabbit?
Jesus Christ, Pugsley. You should pick on someone your own size. And, sadly, Rhinelander is only the size of your ass.
Grow a spine, you colossal caring quilt of shit stains.
So there you go.
Trump is done and I can scarcely contain my glee. There’s glee leaking out all over. It’s like Three Mile Island over here — but with glee.
Thanks for reading, and if you’re interested in buying the book to help keep me flush (with cash, food, weed, what have you), head on over to this here click-nozzle for more info.