IT IS...

the Epstein Files

Let’s make this short and sweet. “President” Donald F. Trump cannot even pretend to see beyond himself. It’s a psychological impossibility; and he has grown accustomed to getting a pass on the astonishingly absurd things that spill out of his tiny mouth on an hourly basis. He declares it; follows it with a nasty attack on anyone who questions it, then quickly points to one of his ventriloquist dummies posing as a news reporter who asks if he ever gets tired of his splendid unselfishness.

But the Epstein files have him by the short hairs, as they say. It’s one thing to reboot upon awakening each morning with his What-Me-Worry memory wipe; he’s worn us down with that happy horseshit (and that’s shame on us), but he’s double-dogged down on his contempt for his dead best friend who just won’t stay dead.

Donald F. doesn’t know much, but he does know that if the details he’s been so good at preventing from seeing the light of day, are dragged into that light, that last Wile E. Coyote handhold he’s clinging to will crumble, and suck-up pols like Mike F. Johnson and Lindsay F. Graham and Tom F. Cotton et al, will scurry back under their rocks so as not to be crushed under three-hundred pounds of steamy discharge.

Until then, any war can be declared, any tariff imposed, any bullshit investigation commenced...so Lets. Get. On. With. It.