AltFacts: Rhymes with Cruller: Hey Dems — hurts, donut?

Mueller This

Nothing happened, nothing was going to happen and why did everyone think something was going to happen? Robert Mueller is a man of his word, and as such he did not recant on any of the promises he made after releasing his infamous report; he wouldn’t comment at length, he would not be led off point and he would not engage in the tug-of-war between dems and repubs over who will do what with the most fetishized president in history. And yes, he confirmed that the report does not exonerate Trump over the 2016 election. But again, the circus, the circus. Nothing is going to change in the White House until at least 2020, and the foot stomping, divided politics of the Democrat party are indicators that an eight-year term is well on its way. But instead, it looks like the rebooting of the Mueller Report is yet another safety blanket for flustered liberals in the face of a Trumpian reality. And that achieves absolutely nothing, other than surrendering any initiative that might yet remain.

Spice Up Your Life (Then Piss Off) 

What is a fate worse than death? Until last week, almost everyone would have said, “living in Worcester, Mass.” and be done with it. But then came July 19, and the standards for awfulness dropped even further. In what can only be described as crass hate-baiting, the  
Woostah-bound “Good Riddance” Pawsox invited former White House press sekkkretary Sean Spicer to throw the first pitch at “Pride Night at the Ballpark” (oh, the audacity), before continuing their existing promotion with Chick-fil-A that if a spectator caught a foul ball, everyone in the stadium would get a coupon for a free chicken sandwich from the anti-LGBTQ sludge slingers. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. The soon-to-be “Woo” Sox are rumored to have approached the Westboro Baptist Church for next year’s celebration of Pride, with snacks provided by Tide Pods; because if anything tastes worst than Chick-fil-A, it’s a mouthful of laundry detergent.   

NOS4A2 2.0

Warning! Absurdly named AMC show “NOS4A2” has been renewed for a second season, and while this means more dollars for the RI film industry, it also confirms that productions with pretentious names are here to stay. And it isn’t a victimless crime; all sorts of chaos has ensued in the show’s wake as directors attempt to reboot previous successes in line with AMC’s hipstery new trend. In Georgia, Tom Hanks has accepted the title role in the remake of 4ist Gump, while Hobbit fans everywhere can rejoice that Lord of Da Ringz is coming out in the spring. Longing for another bite at Peter Parker’s cherry? Spi-da-Man will be going into production this December, with the hotly anticipated Bak2 D’Future due in the fall. However, both Brad Pitt and George Clooney are reported to be distancing themselves from O’Shins!13; a romper comedy centered around a family of Irish podiatrists attempting to plunder the Vatican.

Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee (Pt. 2)

(the longest sequel between columns in the history of the press)

Last summer, a floppy-haired imperial English Europhobe named Boris Johnson (Conservative Member of Parliament, UK) hosted a floppy-haired everything-aphobe called Donnie Thump at a meeting of racist idiots in London, England. Back then it was all fun and games; Tweedledum (aka. BoJo) was a comedic loon of a man who had very public aspirations for – but no real access to – the prime minister’s chair, while Tweedledee (Donnie) was a Twitter-bound nervous wreck trying to navigate a dying presidency from the golf course. But now things are a little different. Both men still look like clones, albeit one less ORANGE than the other … only that Tweedledum has actually become the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (and in doing so, hastened the UK’s demise into the Dark Age of Brexit), and Tweedledee has emerged from his confused stupor to figure out the game of politics, making him dangerously untouchable/pretty much a dictator. And together, they will just encourage each other’s hatred, bigotry and anti-cosmopolitan navel-gazing (used for the second time in as many editions), perhaps to the ultimate demise of democracy as we know it. (Anyone else stockpiling beans?)

#ClintonBodyCount

The White Wing of American politics just keeps getting sillier. Last Thursday, the hashtag #ClintonBodyCount started to trend on the Washington Herald (read, Twitter -ed.) …just in case anyone forgot that the president has a pathological obsession with the 42nd Commander-in-Chief and his political other half. According to this latest bout of hysteria, when convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein was found in his prison cell with neck injuries from an apparent suicide, it was toward the Clintons that twitching conservative fingers began to point. So, what actually happened? Speaking with an anonymous eyewitness, Alt-Facts has learned that ol’ Bill – dressed as the Hamburgler – was seen sneaking behind the Manhattan penitentiary where Epstein is incarnated, while HilDog – sporting a homemade incarnation of the Winifred Sanderson wig and frock – cast black magic on the prison guards. Thereafter, the rascally duo made a daring bid for Epstein’s throat, only to discover the clock was soon to strike midnight, meaning both Clintons would turn back into rats, thus thwarting their dastardly deed. The fact that the world might now be one step closer to being rid of a monster who molested children and trafficked teenage girls for prostitution and profit was, according to the public reaction, apparently neither here nor there.

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