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RIBBIT. RIBBIT. Donald Trump's favorite Nazi-haired son parked his ass on the Fox sofa this morning, pursed his thin lips together, and whistled out a jaunty tune to all the little Pepe frogs in the feverswamp. Eric dismissed Bob Woodward's runaway blockbuster Fear as "sensational nonsense," written only to "make three extra shekels."

Subtle, Boychik.


We know it's hard to be the dumb one. He's not hot like Ivanka.

When Trump had to put his assets in a "trust," he handed them over to Don Jr. and that accountant Weisselberg. (And you know that guy couldn't even join half the golf clubs in Florida 20 years ago!) Just because DJ is a better liar with irresistible animal magnetism, he gets to run everything? NOT FAIR!

So Eric put in the extra effort this morning. He's growing a ... beard?

He's sliding his cheeks into the Kilmeade-depression, ready for Fox's morning kibbitz, Two Hacks and a Ditz in an Evening Gown. And he's letting that Nazi flag fly!

You can write some sensational, nonsense book. CNN will definitely have you on there, because they love to trash the president. It'll mean you sell three extra books, you make three extra shekels.

Simmer down, Klaus. Woodward sold 750,000 copies of Fear yesterday when the book dropped. Within 24 hours, it's become the fourth bestselling book on Amazon for the entire year. And his publishers are increasing the print run -- for people who still read paper books -- to one million. WOODWARD'S MAKING A LOT MORE THAN THREE SHEKELS.

Three shekels is 84 cents. But Eric's not here to discuss the finer points of Israeli currency exchange. He's winking at the Volksgemeinschaft, letting them know that this book is just more Jew lies from the mainstream media. The fact that Woodward is Protestant is irrelevant. If Eric says that GDP growth under Trump is "the fastest it has ever grown," or that Trump's FEMA is "totally prepared" for Hurricane Florence, well that's how it is, PERIOD.

You're not gonna let some (((globalist))) stop you from using a discardable piece of plastic every time you want to keep from dribbling Mountain Dew down your shirt, are you?

Oddly enough, Poppy Trump failed to retweet Eric's little shoutout to Naziland. Maybe because anti-semitic frogwhistles are a really dumb idea when you're praying to White Jesus that the Jew accountant and the Jew lawyer don't flip on you and sell your ass to Geoffrey Berman, head of SDNY, and Barbara Underwood, New York's AG. Both of whom will be fasting next week, Dummkopf! Plus, your sister is Jewish. Also, YOUR BUSINESS IS HEADQUARTERED IN NEW YORK CITY.

Via YiddishWit.com

Better luck next time, kid. And hey, if DJ goes to jail, maybe Daddy will let you run the business?

(HAHAHAHAHA, no he won't.)

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Your FDF lives in Baltimore under an assumed identity as an upstanding member of the PTA. Shhh, don't tell anyone she makes swears on the internet!

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If it's a day, the New York Times is fucking shit up, but today, it fucked up BIGLY.

Fresh-faced access journalists Adam Goldman and Michael Schmidt have just published what we can only describe as a drive-by shooting against Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, which reads as some bullshit planted by the White House to give Donald Trump the pretext for his Saturday Night Massacre, if he wants it. (He does.)

Maybe the White House is tired of talking about the flailing nomination of Judge Maybe Rapey and how Paul Manafort and Michael Cohen are cooperating with special counsel Robert Mueller, and the New York Times was more than happy to help!

Or maybe it was planted by former deputy director of the FBI Andrew McCabe, who was fired by Attorney General Jeff Sessions just hours before his pension was set to kick in, and may have a serious axe to grind with DoJ officials and leaked a copy of his own memos. (His lawyer says that's not true, but he would say that, wouldn't he?)

Or maybe it's both, somehow! Or one of many other things!

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It's not every day Golf Digest gets noticed as a source of hard-hitting investigative journalism, at least outside of reviews of titanium carbon fiber nanotech infinite improbability drivers or some such. But Wednesday, some journamalisming that started with a Golf Digest story about a guy who drew fantastic imaginary golf courses concluded with that guy, Valentino Dixon, walking out of Attica prison, 27 years after he'd been sentenced for 39 years to life. Not bad, Golf Digest. We give you a GOLF CLAP. And a Pulitzer if we had one, which, sadly, we don't.

As Golf Digest says, the twists and turns of the case are a bit complex (they're unraveled in more detail in this New York Times story), but it basically comes down to a local prosecutor who was determined to railroad Dixon for the 1991 murder of a 17-year-old, Torriano Jackson, in Buffalo, New York. The conviction involved

shoddy police work, zero physical evidence linking Dixon, conflicting testimony of unreliable witnesses, the videotaped confession to the crime by another man, a public defender who didn't call a witness at trial, and perjury charges against those who said Dixon didn't do it.

Dixon had a prior conviction for selling cocaine, and he made a convenient target for Erie County prosecutor Chris Belling, who was weirdly determined to ignore even statements from the actual killer, LaMarr Scott, who pleaded guilty to the killing shortly before Dixon's release this week.

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