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Before we get into today's shitshow, we should tell you the end of the story about yesterday's shitshow, which started when Chuck 'n' Nancy went to the White House to stand on Donald Trump's face and call him a loser over his impending "Trump shutdown," which he's totally willing to make happen if he doesn't get his precious goddamn Mexican wall. After that, Nancy Pelosi went back to the Hill and said funny things about how she doesn't know why Trump is so obsessed with that fucking border wall, it's probably a male insecurity weenus issue, and also said arguing with him is like getting a golden shower from a skunk, which is why his name is now President Skunk Tinkles.

But what did the old Skunk Tinkler do after the meeting? Had a fucking temper tantrum, of course.



Aw that's cute, Trump had a "folder" with "briefing materials" like a real president might have! Did he throw his very presidential Sharpie marker too?

You gotta just let the baby cry it out. He won't take his bottle, he really gets mad if you try to burp him, and he doesn't even light up if you tell him Vladimir Putin sent him a secret surprise letter with further instructions. He's INCONSOLABLE.

The Los Angeles Times reports, though, that once Trump was done crying he said the meeting was a flawless victory, and he was glad Schumer picked at his scabs and tricked him into owning full responsibility for a government shutdown on live TV. It was YOOGE!

(Dumbass!)

Or maybe he's still mad and thinks it's Mike Pence's fault for sitting there like the undead the entire meeting. (That was weird, right?)

Some Republicans were inexplicably pleased with Trump's performance in the Oval Office, because they are asslicking morons. Lindsey Graham said Trump needs to "dig in" and "take it on" and "stare it down," by which he meant the Democrats who won't give Trump his precious fucking wall. Senator John Kennedy of Louisiana, who is emerging as the Louie Gohmert of the United States Senate -- remember when he asked Brett Kavanaugh if he had ever met Kennedy's friend Jesus Christ at the end of Kavanaugh's RapeVan McBeerPong testimony before the Judiciary Committee? -- had this to say in his trademark extreeeeeeeemely sloooooooow drawwwwwwwwwwl:

"If I were playing poker with President Trump and he was across the table from me and he had demonstrated the face that he demonstrated in that meeting, and I wasn't holding good cards, I'd fold, because I don't think he's bluffing. I think he's prepared to shut down the government."

Hey you guys, let's go play poker with John Kennedy. We will win all his dollars!

But people inside the White House knew yesterday's events were not good for Trump:

Inside the West Wing, the meeting's conclusion set off a chaotic scramble as aides switched into what one staffer, speaking on the condition of anonymity, called "damage-control mode."

"The aftermath of that meeting was not pretty," the person said.

Sad!

Everybody saw on Tuesday that Mr. Art Of The Deal is actually Mr. Art Of The I Am A Fucking Loser Who Is Scared Of Stairs And Can't Do Anything Good Ever. Everybody saw that Mr. Good At TV, because he is a TV celebrity, is actually not as good at TV as Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer. And everybody saw that Mr. Good Brain actually doesn't have a very good brain at all, if they somehow didn't know that already.

What's sad -- and hilarious -- is that the Daily Beast reports that Trump set up the on-air confrontation precisely because he thought he could get the better of Chuck 'n' Nancy, if he put them in that situation. This is what happens when you're over-certain that you're good at your job, when the truth is the polar opposite.

At press time, Nancy Pelosi was on Amazon buying a weekly supply of dick-punching gloves, for punching Trump in the dick every single week over the next two years, as her speakership begins again, and his presidency ends. They will arrive in the mail on Friday, because Nancy Pelosi has Amazon Prime. (ALLEGEDLY.)

[Los Angeles Times / Washington Post]

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Evan Hurst

Evan Hurst is the senior editor of Wonkette, which means he is the boss of you, unless you are Rebecca, who is boss of him. His dog Lula is judging you right now.

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Gentle flowers of love, our darlings, the ones who make us whole, who let us hire writers at a living wage, who keep us going through the Trumpenstorm, who complete us: Move on down to the comments for open thread, your work today is done! The rest of you, the ones who have been meaning to get your credit card or your paypal password for lo these SEVEN or FOURTEEN YEARS NOW, YOU:

Hi! I'm Rebecca. Have we met yet? We HAVE? Because you've been coming twice a week or four times a day for us to guide you through our fascist horror, together? Sweet! Barring you really ain't got none, we would like your money.

But you always need money, you are hissing through your beardo crumbs. Well, yes! That is how food and rent/mortgages and paychecks and servers work. As the lucky-ducky federal workers have discovered, you have to pay for them on an ongoing basis. And you know who likes food and mortgages and paychecks and servers? It is your Wonkette!

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Do we really have to write two posts in a row that feature Oleg Deripaska, whose face is really weird looking and stupid and we hate looking at it? Yes. Apparently we do.

OK, so we were just talking about how Deripaska is getting a sweet free handjob from Steven Mnuchin's Treasury Department with the deal to lift sanctions off his companies. We also know that Deripaska is Paul Manafort's former boss, to whom Manafort was in serious debt, and to whom Manafort weirdly offered secret briefings on the Trump camapign, as a way to "get whole." (We still don't know what exactly that means, or how involved Deripaska was in the Russian conspiracy to ratfuck the election and install Trump in office, but we bet Robert Mueller does.)

But another wang of the Deripaska story we've learned over the past couple of years involves a woman named Anastasia Vashukevich, AKA Nastya Rybka, an escort who traveled with Deripaska on his yacht, and who once claimed to have recordings of Deripaska on his yacht discussing the plan to skullfuck America's democratic presidential election, presumably because Russians never really have understood how democracy is supposed to work, and also because they wanted to steal the American presidency to use it for their own benefit.

Don't know if you've been following the latest news -- that Rybka was suddenly released from the Thai prison where she had been bizarrely detained, that she was assured she would be able to safely go home to Belarus, and that she was immediately arrested while changing planes in Russia -- but she's free now. Or, you know, "free."

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