Welcome to America’s Last Line of Defense, the page that makes conservatives and trumpers lose their collective shit in long lines of idiotic jabber, worthy of xanaxed-up three year olds having a cooties and doody breakfast.

But how do we cone up with this crap? Where does inspiration strike?  Does it always cone straight from today’s headlines or is there some kind of secret regular article-fill in that we use.  The answer to both of these questions is “yes.”

The answer to the question : “Did you DO something to my Trumpy Bear?” is “Julia, please stop f*cking bothering me.”

There’s the headline that makes them feel immediately angry, like : “Biden Throws Giant Party for Taliban.”  There’s the one that makes them feel good and vindicated and garners more shares, like : “Trump Cures Dandruff With Hydroxychloroquine.”  Then there’s “stars”, like : “AOC Says __________”, or “Obama ___________”.

This article is another type, the : “Look What They Have That YOU Don’t” jealousy generator.  As any idiot can clearly see from the photo of a gas pump from the 90’s squashed together with a Pelosi pic, obviously Speaker Pelosi somehow pays way less for gas than everyone else because she employs dark liberal magic.  That’s banana dick crazy.

We are also required to use names like Joe Barron, Trish Blake, or Sandy Batt to remember the fallen of our number and also to give the fact checker a heads-up in case they find the article somewhere else, stripped of it’s satirical marks.

Many offshoots of these literary head traumas fly around.  The death hoax.  The Trumper somehow managing to come out on top.  Another fine example of “this is the world the liberals want.”  That kind of thing.  300 words is 300 words, right?

Throw in a random couple of picture gags. Look, it’s Mike Lindell. What a perennial cock gobbler.

Speaking of, I don’t have an ending in mind for this one, so I’m just going to suppliment it with an advertisement from our non-existent sponsor.

Uncle Porky’s House of Tasteful Disrobement and Mouth-ular Pleasure.  Isn’t it one of THOSE kind of days?