Man, What The Hell? Mission Accomplished Edition
Man, What The Hell? Mission Accomplished Edition
Plus Space Force, OTHER Space Force, and a toilet mystery
Welcome to Man, What the Hell?, a new series delving into the stories that made us go, “Man, what the hell?”
When the Trump administration ordered 100,000 body bags last month, it should have been a dead giveaway (ahem) that the only plan this White House has for the coronavirus pandemic is for the general public (especially black and brown people) to simply die its way through the next few months without too many people noticing how many scammers and bosses are getting insanely rich off of this once-in-a-generation catastrophe.
This administration has never met a goalpost it couldn’t move. After months of masturbatory self-congratulations from the president and his staff of boot lickers, we learned this week that internal White House estimates project 3,000 deaths daily by next month…just as JKush’s laughably inept “coronavirus task force” will either be put out of its misery or made to suffer indefinitely, depending on which administration ghoul you choose to believe. Meanwhile, America just had its worst month, jobs-wise, since the Great Depression, and the president continues to quietly revise his initial fatality count upwards from 60,000 to “100,000…a hundred and ten.”
Faced with these increasingly unfathomable numbers, plenty of people (not the sort of folks who spend their Thursday storming a statehouse while cosplaying The Expendables 3 though) have started to go a little bonkers in their own unique, and entirely understandable ways: From mask scolds to social distancing camera truthers to horny performance art practitioners, most of us are just trying to bring a little order to our otherwise chaotic existence. Frankly, who can blame someone for being kind of a dick in the grocery store because someone else isn’t wearing a mask when the alternative is to obsess over our future of death and disease and just collapse in the fetal position right then and there?
I don’t really know where I was going with this. I’m just so tired of nightly death tolls and Zoom shivas and seeing my favorite restaurants go out of business one after another while some mendacious sourdough starter lets thousands of people die just so he can blubber about his “reviews.”
I guess my point is: try not to be too much of an asshole these days. And if you’re gonna be an asshole—just pick your targets carefully.
…Counterpoint
Remember how I just said that it was understandable that people were getting a little snippy in grocery stores about wearing masks and social distancing? And how there are sometimes circumstances where it’s OK to be a plague-induced jerk? Well, I don’t mean the sort of people who over this past week shot up a McDonalds because they couldn’t sit down; punched a store manager who asked them to put on a mask; and in a particularly horrifying instance, allegedly murdered a Michigan Family Dollar security guard who was just trying to do his job by reminding customers that there’s a statewide facial covering order in place.
Bern Notice
After being ignominiously booted from the New York Presidential Primary ballot late last month, Bernie Sanders is back, baby!! A federal court on Tuesday overruled Gov. Andrew Cuomo (booo, hisss, grogger sound) and his decision to nix the state’s upcoming primary election, which the court said had likely violated Sanders’ constitutional rights.
Sanders, who ended his campaign in mid-April, is now back on track to rack up some sweet, sweet delegates, which he can then use as bargaining power to try to get the Democratic Party to suck moderately less—a Herculean task, to be sure, but if anyone can start to clean the horse shit out of the DNC’s Augean stables, it’s zayde Bernie.
PAC it up, folks. You’re done.
What the world absolutely needs at this horrifying juncture in history is a new big money super PAC, right? But not just any big money super PAC. Oh no. What it needs is the sort of super PAC created by one of Cory Booker’s political operatives that says, “Hey, what if politics was rude as hell…but in an extremely focus grouped way?”
Folks, I regret to introduce you to PAC That Ass, a thing I sincerely hate with every atom of my being for shoving this abomination into my eye holes:
If there is any justice in this world (ha ha ha) this calculated swing at hip internet glory-hogging will die on the way back to its home planet.
Out Like Flynn
Congratulations are in order for Gen. Michael Flynn, a deeply unwell, extremely bigoted, admitted felon who this week managed to slither his way out of prison despite having lied to the FBI as part of the Russia Investigation (‘member that one?) in 2017.
All we can do now is hope that Flynn has the good sense to simply fade away into obscurity where he belongs, and not become another screaming goblin on Fox News or—worse still—rejoin the Trump administration. Right? Right?
Space Farce
Not that one. This one. The one that launched its first recruitment effort this week.
If you’re the sort of idealistic dreamer who gazes wistfully at the night sky’s etherial beauty with optimistic hopes of “developing military space professionals, acquiring military space systems, maturing the military doctrine for space power, and organizing space forces to present to our Combatant Commands,” then buddy, have I got the right branch of the U.S. Armed Forces for you!
Speaking of Space
What’s dumber: That Bradly named his fancy political operation after a weapon of mass destruction designed to terrify people into submission, or the fact that the damn thing ultimately gets blown up by a whiny farm dork?
Brad is clearly having the time of his life with a bunch of friends.
Another Star Czwars-Understander has logged on
Check that dateline, and then ask yourself why this man is the highest paid staffer in the Trump White House.
Golden Showers Bring May Flowers
The internet is bringing people together in new and exciting ways and frankly I can’t wait to see what happens next.
But at least…
…They’re not arguing remotely before the Supreme Court:
O-Hi-Oh-No
If you’d asked me last week if I could dislike Ohio any more than I already do (look, I’ve got my reasons, OK?) I’d have said that’s impossible. Then the Buckeye State rolled out a bona fide narc operation for bosses to “report employees who quit or refuse work when it is available due to COVID-19” even though those workers are basically being asked to choose between their paychecks or their health, and—wow—turns out there’s still plenty of hate left in my heart for Ohio after all! Incredible!
O-Hi-Oh-No.2
Perhaps they’re simply counting on customers losing their sense of taste.
Here’s your goal for next week:
Be like these hams.
Finally
Just because it’s Friday doesn’t mean you can’t vibe to Brian Eno’s 1985 chillout masterpiece “Thursday Afternoon.” You can. It’s not illegal or anything!
Did anything make you say “man, what the hell?” this week? Perhaps out loud to a roommate, loved one, or disinterested household pet/plant? Misery loves company, so share your personal what the hells in the comments below!
(pic via Relativity Media—Just look at that parking lot)
This one did me in: https://twitter.com/AliVelshi/status/1258514964513345536?s=20