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Donald Trump is super chill right now, you guys. That's what the White House is telling us. He's cool and calm and collected over how he's losing his WALL fight, and hard, and he's totally easy breezy about Nancy Pelosi canceling his State of the Union lie-fest, just light as a feather, it's like Folgers in his cup and he can't believe it's not butter and

"Countrty."

Anything else?

There it is. Is Schumer groveling? Not that we can tell. But Trump isn't all that scared of Schumer, so let's all project our pant-shitting rage fear on to him!

Trump is scared of Nancy Pelosi, though. Oh damn, he is terrified, and he's got all kinds of excuses for why he's not attacking her, all of which are intended to deflect from how he hasn't quite processed yet that Nancy Pelosi is the boss of him (JUST LIKE WE SAID SHE WOULD BE).

A woman? THE BOSS OF HIM? The fuck you say!


The New York Times reports that Trump is confused and freaking the fuck out over why he's such a failure on this whole WALL thing (because America hates him and always will), but that he really thinks one day America will forget all about the government shutdown and remember how he STOOD FIRM for WALL (he's stupid). But he's not mad at Nancy Pelosi, though! (Is he allowed to be mad at Nancy Pelosi? She hasn't sent him a letter telling him if he's invited to be mad at her.)

Anyway, it's no big deal. Even though Trump craves attention and wrongly thinks he's good at saying words good on TV, the Washington Post says he's "indifferent" to Pelosi doing a shutdown TO HIS FACE. Maybe it's because his defenders, like Rep. Steve Scalise, are propping him up by telling reporters Pelosi only canceled his State of the Union because she is "afraid of hearing what the president has to say." Yeah, maybe that's it. (That's not it.)

Or maybe he's developed a thicker skin and is letting things roll off his back, like such as how Pelosi calls him the "whiner-in-chief" behind his back, and says talking to him is like getting an unsolicited golden shower from a Russian skunk hooker, or when she makes fun of WALL by calling it a "beaded curtain," or when she makes fun of his obsession with WALL by suggesting maybe he's got peener issues. (Nope, not that either.)

Or maybe Trump has a real strategy here, a method to his madness when it comes to dealing with Nancy Pelosi, STOP LAUGHING, IT'S NOT "FUNNY" TO SUGGEST DONALD TRUMP'S BRAIN WORKS WELL ENOUGH TO FORMULATE "STRATEGIES":

Trump is a proud counterpuncher, but when it comes to Pelosi, he has pulled back on his jabs. That is deliberate, aides and advisers said, because the president believes she would help protect him from impeachment and because he considers her more reasonable than other Democrats.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking moron.

Former Trump adviser and guy who cries a lot during MSNBC interviews Sam Nunberg has thoughts. For once, they are sorta correct thoughts!

"I think that, as usual, he thought he would be able to charm her and that at the end of the day, they would have this great bipartisan type of dealmaking," he said. "I think it's completely naive."

Correction, Sam Nunberg: It was completely naive. That ship has sailed, and now it's Nancy Pelosi's world, and Trump is just eating Big Macs with his thumb up his ass in it. Guess she was serious recently, when she was asked if she considers herself to be Trump's equal, and she replied, "The Constitution does."

Politico quotes a couple of Democratic reps, explaining why Pelosi has the upper hand here. For Pramila Jayapal, it's that Pelosi is "just a badass," STOP THE PRESSES, PRAMILA SAID A CUSS, LET'S TALK ABOUT IT FOR 45 DAYS! For Anna Eshoo, it's that Pelosi is "satin and steel," to which Wonkette replies, OK, CONGRESSWOMAN ESHOO, THAT'S KINDA PORNY!

Here is the zingiest zinger Trump has been able to come up with for Pelosi on Twitter in the past week:

Weak.

The boss of him responded:

At press time, the president of the United States was wishing he could ask his original real dad for some money to stand up to the mean lady for him, but WOMP WOMP he can't, because his dad is in hell.

Follow Evan Hurst on Twitter RIGHT HERE, DO IT RIGHT HERE!

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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.

Follow him on Twitter RIGHT HERE.

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Guys, it's been one more shit day in a shit week in the fifth shit month of another shit Trump year. Which is why I need to remind you that it's not ALL shit out there! Oh, sure, it's MOSTLY shit, but you know what isn't shit? YR WONKETTE, and the strange community of strange internet people who have made getting through all this shit a bit more tolerable, that's who and what. Which is why you should give us money, so we can keep whanging away at the walls of shit with our shovels and laughing at the shit getting all over, because one of these days we will get it all cleaned up or at least not be up to our waists in shit, and we can all laugh about what a crazy fight it was, as St. Molly Ivins always kept reminding us.

In case you're new here, let me just remind you that Wonkette literally got me, Yr Dok Zoom, out of what wasn't quite poverty, but was pretty much paycheck-to-paycheck desperation. I started reading the site shortly before Barack Obama was elected, began commenting sometime in his first term, and submitted a story tip to Rebecca a few months after she bought the site for 47 dollars and a sandwich (I now understand it was a bit more than that). It was Memorial Day 2012, and she wrote back she was busy with some "stupid thing I have to do for some muneez," but would I like to try writing a blog post myself? "I understand if you say FUCK NO. But maybe you are thinking FUCK YES?" And then she warned me she paid only in Ameros. I did, the post was forgettable but OK, and then I wrote a thing (borrowed from now long-lost comments) that went semi-viral, and suddenly I was that hottest thing in publishing, a freelancer!

In less than a year, Rebecca asked you all to buy me to be your very own pet blogger, and my life suddenly became incredibly good, like as good as an Abba song. It's as good as "Dancing Queen." Thanks to the timing of the whole thing (and to Barry Obama and Nancy Pelosi), I actually had health insurance for the first time in years, a not inconsiderable thing. And you had an Editrix who was not working 12 hour days six and a half days a week and drinking too much from stress. Your continued donations helped hire Evan full time and Robyn and Bianca part time and a whole raft of freelancers, and now Rebecca is down to eight-hour days, five and a half days a week, and drinking because there's a madman in the White House and everything's terrible.

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There is a very normal article circulating on the internet right now by a fella named Don Boys (that's not the joke, the jokes are coming), who is both an insane batshit preacher, and also an insane batshit former member of the Indiana House of Representatives. (Also sometimes he blogs at the Daily Caller about how Mike Pence really went balls deep into the gay agenda when he swore in that insane batshit gay guy Rick Grenell as America's ambassador to Germany.)

This article, of course, is about Pete Buttigieg, because what are anti-gay buffoons obsessed with right now? Pete Buttigieg. Boys (still his name) is primarily concerned not with the simple fact that Buttigieg is gay, but with how gay Buttigieg really is. IN THE SEX WAY!

Well, Don, since you asked!

Shall we dive into this thing without the proper prophylactics? We shall.

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