I spoke too soon about the tropics last week. There’s a storm brewing in the Gulf, which seems likely to become a category one hurricane called Francine. As of this writing, Francine should make landfall near the Texas-Louisiana state line. No direct impacts are expected for New Orleans, but we’re on the wet side of the storm so we’re in for some serious wind and rain. My iron infusion appointment is on the day that’s forecast to suck the hardest. Hopefully, adjustments can be made if there’s widespread street flooding. How irksome is that? Irksome indeed, Francine:

Now that we’ve rocked out, let’s move on to some vexatious venting about irksome things.

I’m not irked by former Veep Dick Cheney endorsing the current Veep, but I *am* irked by those praising him to the skies. Enough with the crapola about Dick putting country first. He didn’t put country first when he was in power and lied us into war. I’m glad he’s opposed to Trump but he’s getting mild applause from me, not a standing ovation.

I’m irked that other prominent anti-Trumpers have yet to endorse Vice President Harris. Who’s more Republican that the Cheneys? One would hope that the national security and foreign affairs types would come out for Harris. Come on down, John Kelly, Jim Mattis, Mark Milley, and Condoleezza Rice.

If they want a candidate who supports Ukraine and favors a strong NATO alliance, Harris is the one. It’s time for them to get off the sidelines and in the game. Until then:

I’m irked by the pre-debate hype, which is setting the bar too low for the Kaiser of Chaos. I still hate debates but I was wrong about them never changing anything. The last Biden-Trump joint appearance flipped the race. As much as I love Joe Biden, I’m glad the election is no longer about his age, but will the media pay attention to the Insult Comedian’s cognitive decline? I’m not optimistic: They’re still treating an Insult Comedian with a dead nutria pelt atop his head as a normal candidate. Ain’t nothing normal about a guy who’s fixated on sharks, bird cemeteries, and Hannibal Lecter. He should take a look at his life like the guy in this Neil Young song.

I’m irked that the Trump trials are all on hold. The law *is* slow but this is ridiculous. It’s why I haven’t written about the law recently. The Supremes hit the pause button, then made a mess of everything with their fakakta immunity ruling. Now we’re on hold. Who among us likes being on hold?

I’m irked that the legacy media insists on acting as translators for that babbling nincompoop Trump. He’s increasingly incoherent on the stump and the political press is busy cleaning up his words to make him seem coherent.

Why? Is it clicks they’re after or are the pukes at the NYT afraid that Trumper assholes will storm Times Square and loot the Sulzberger Fortress of Malakatude.

And what’s up with AG Sulzberger writing an op-ed for the WaPo? Did his own editors turn it down? #sarcasm. Who does he think he is?

It took a musical doubleheader to convey my disgust with the NYT’s coverage of the presidential election.

I’m irked that the press is downplaying the latest story about Russian interference in our elections. This time around, Putin’s people are paying off right-wing influencers to spread their mendacious message.

The whole influencer thing bugs the shit out of me. People should think for themselves instead of letting some pipsqueak with a social media following tell them what to think about Ukraine. This Robert Cray song title says it all:

Finally, I’m irked that anyone is shocked that Tucker Carlson is hanging out with Holocaust deniers who blame the Brits, not the Nazis for World War II. It’s like blaming New Yorkers for 9/11.

The Mothertucker’s alliance with neo-Nazis is the logical next step on his voyage to the extreme right. Outrage is what he sells. What’s more outrageous than Holocaust denialism?

The last word goes to Booker T & The MGs: