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OH SHIT Y'ALL!

WASHINGTON — Sean Spicer, the White House press secretary, resigned on Friday morning, telling President Trump he vehemently disagreed with the appointment of New York financier Anthony Scaramucci as communications director.

Mr. Trump offered Mr. Scaramucci the job at 10 a.m. The president requested that Mr. Spicer stay on, but Mr. Spicer told Mr. Trump that he believed the appointment was a major mistake, according to person with direct knowledge of the exchange.

MELISSA MCCARTHY WEEPS!

Well, we had a feeling Trumpers might start killing themselves off like flies, and we guess Spicer is the first to try to salvage a teeny tiny bit of his dignity, by getting the fuck out of Dodge right the hell now.

The Washington Post notes that Sean Spicer hates Anthony Scaramucci, as does White House Chief of Staff Reince Priebus. Shall we take bets on when Priebus fires himself? Totally normal White House staffers Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner, on the other hand, love Scaramucci, so we guess they won this round.

Spicer had been doing double duty, as both press secretary and communications director, ever since former communications director Mike Dubke resigned. He hadn't been doing press briefings much lately, though, because A) the Trump administration is scared of the press and B) according to Steve Bannon, Sean Spicer has simply gotten too obese to fit into a camera frame.

Trump shit on Sean Spicer constantly. On Trump's first big foreign trip, he wouldn't even let Spicer, a devout Catholic, meet the pope, even though it was literally the only thing Spicer ever wanted.

Spicer always ended up being wrong, both because Trump kept him out of the loop (he wouldn't even tell Spicer if he thought climate change was real!), and also because the president of the United States is an unqualified, stupid motherfucking shitbag of a human being who changes his mind on a whim. Most recently, we made fun of Spicer for being six days behind the story when he insisted Donald Trump Jr. only met with all those Russians to talk about bouncy Russian babies, and definitely not to get Hillary dirt, like it said in the emails music publicist Rob Goldstone sent to Junior, the emails Junior tweeted out days before Spicer said that.

Sometimes (often) Trump just forced Spicer to lie for him, as he did at the very beginning when he INSISTED that Trump's tiny, flaccid and illiterate inauguration crowd was the YOOGEST and MOST TERRIFIC in all of history. Spicer also had to carry water for Trump's bullshit lie, pulled directly out of his spray-tanned ass, that Barack Obama had done "wire tapps" to Trump Tower.

We will miss Sean Spicer, in a weird way. We won't miss him accidentally denying the Holocaust or picking fights with the Anne Frank Center, obviously. But we had a certain affection for him, mostly because we felt bad watching him get abused by Donald Trump day in and day out. Hell, his job security has been on the rails ever since Trump saw a girl play him on "Saturday Night Live" and lost his shit.

Oh well, Spicey. And also, congratulations!

Please take a week or three to rest up and regain your dignity, and then write a tell-all book and/or start leaking all the dirty Russia shit you learned during your days in the White House, either to the Failing New York Times or directly to Robert Mueller himself, whichever feels right to you. DO IT FOR AMERICA.

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[New York Times]

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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Photo by Wonkette operative 'Zippy W. Spincycle'

Last week, Yr Dok Zoom talked a little bit about his damn dissertation, which looked at "Wabbit Literacy," the weird thing where we sometimes learn about the world from parodies and jokes long before we ever encounter the original stuff -- like learning about opera from cartoons. More than one person in the comments (which Wonkette does not allow and yet, like life, you find a way) mentioned they were disappointed, as kids, to learn that while roadrunners are real birds, the actual critter looks nothing like this:

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Once upon a time... about ten years ago, a group of entirely ridiculous men burst onto the scene wearing stupid hats and telling men that wearing stupid hats and telling men that walking up to women in bars and insulting ("negging") them would get them laid. This did not last long, as women also had televisions and computers and were completely aware of these tricks as well, so when some ass came up to us in a bar and said "Hey, nice nails, are they real?" we would laugh and laugh and loudly announce "Oh my god, this guy just tried to neg me! Can you believe that shit? HEY EVERYONE, THIS GUY JUST TRIED TO NEG ME!" and then refer to him as "Mystery" the whole night.

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Some of them, like Roosh V, a creepy weirdo who actually does live in his mom's basement, actively encouraged men to rape women who were intoxicated to the point of being obviously unable to consent.

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