The World Of President* McBragg

Welcome to another episode of Cartoon Analogy Theatre. This one doesn’t involve Pepe Le Pew so there will be no odoriferous jokes.  It’s a pity because the word stinker proves my point about K being the funniest letter in the alphabet. The World Of Commander McBragg was a segment on the Underdog, Tennessee Tuxedo, and/or Bullwinkle shows. McBragg was a retired British officer who claimed to be at the center of world events and was not shy about bragging about his legendary accomplishments. Sound familiar? As the Commander would say, “Quite.”

I’ve been meaning to compare the Current Occupant to Commander McBragg for some time. I’m not sure what took me so long. The reason for dubbing Donald Trump President* McBragg is obvious:

In his meeting with Lavrov, Trump seemed to be boasting about his inside knowledge of the looming threat. “I get great intel. I have people brief me on great intel every day,” the president said, according to an official with knowledge of the exchange.

I wonder if he whipped out his tiny member at that point and indulged in a spot of dick measuring with the Russians. It’s uncertain as to whether spotted dick is on the White House dessert menu. If it is, Trump gets two scoops, not one…

Trump’s aides, including General McMaster, tried to explain it away but Trump threw them all under the proverbial bus. It’s getting mighty crowded under there, y’all. It puts me in the mood for a bus song. This is one of the best:

Since Trump is incapable of admitting to a mistake, he’s brazening it out.  His motto: when you’re in a corner, lie like a fucking rug. His Tuesday morning tweet storm hung his national security adviser out to dry. The General is clearly not the McMaster of his domain.

It turns out that the Israelis provided the intelligence in question. They should have known better:

We now have a report that the allied intelligence service whose intelligence President Trump shared with Sergei Lavrov was an Israeli intelligence agency. My best guess was Jordan. Shows what I know.

What is remarkable about this is that reports in the Israeli press from January said that US intelligence officials had warned their Israeli counterparts about sharing intelligence with President Trump because of fears he might share such intelligence with Russia.

They were warned and they did it anyway. It will be a snowy day in Tel Aviv before they share intelligence with this administration* again. Their source is likely to be ferreted out and decapitated by ISIS. Those fuckers don’t fool around. It’s what Trump admired about Saddam Hussein so maybe he’ll flip on them too.

The flaw in the Trump-McBragg analogy is that the Commander was fundamentally a decent chap, eh wot. He was *almost* as needy the Insult Comedian. And nobody that needy should be allowed within a mile of the Oval Office, but he’s there thanks to his frenemy Jim Comey and his Russian palskis. I think Lavrov was at the White House to give Trump his marching orders from Putin.

I’m laying in a supply of whisky for President* McBragg’s first overseas trip. Given his alarming tendency to reverse his positions if someone sucks up to him, I’m concerned that Trump will offer an ambassadorship to the next person who kisses his ass and tells him it smells like roses. It could explain the whole Callista Gingrich thing.

I’ll give the last word to Commander McBragg. It’s a swashbuckling tale of derring-do and spying in Trump’s home town. In fact, the title could be his GRU code name, Our Man In Manhattan. Quite.

Postcript: I wrote this post before the Comey obstruction of justice memo. It’s hard to keep up with these crooked bastards. Comey made Trump and he’ll break him. So it goes.

Oh yeah, the Beauregard statue came down last night. Three down, one to go.

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