It’s been a long hot summer. The good news is that the tropics have been quiet. The bad news is that the heat is making me as cranky as the creature in the Max Ernst featured image. You know what that means: It’s time for vexatious venting about irksome things.
I’m irked that American voters elected a delusional idiot as president. After the failed summit, Trump told President Macron that he thinks Putin will make peace because he likes him. Say what?
Everything is personal to this moron. Putin is a megalomaniac BUT he’s a Greater Russia ideologue who believes that Ukraine belongs to Mother Russia. That stupid motherfucker Trump doesn’t get it; he thinks Vlad will make peace because he loves Donald. That’s NOT among the things mentioned in this song:
I’m irked that the Kaiser of Chaos is emulating another Russian dictator in his attack on The Smithsonian. It’s the first time I’ve ever compared a POTUS to Joseph Stalin. Stalin’s life work included rewriting history and giving Russians credit for every positive development.
Trump is out to minimize slavery’s importance to our history. It was America’s original sin and caused tumult and turmoil before during and after the Civil War. Shit like that is no big whoop to our White Nationalist president. He’s unlikely to be familiar with any of the variations on this quote, “Those who don’t remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”
Mick Jagger and Keith Richards are more direct: “Don’t wanna be your slave.”
I’m irked that President Pennywise thinks staging a cage fight at the White House is a good way to celebrate America’s 250th birthday. There’s never been a boxing bout there even when the sport was second only to baseball in popularity. I guess past presidents didn’t want to take a chance on someone dying from a sucker punch. Trump gets his kicks from vicarious violence so he wouldn’t care. He probably enjoyed watching Ray Mancini kill Duk Koo Kim in the ring.
I’m irked that DOJ creep Ed Martin is stalking New York AG Tish James. He posed for a photo outside her crib wearing a trench coat in 88 degree weather:
YEP IT IS ED MARTIN SCUMBAG! nypost.com/2025/08/15/u…
— LorennaCleary.bsky.social (@lorennacleary.bsky.social) 2025-08-18T01:36:47.325Z
Who the hell does he think he is, Columbo? Martin is as stupid as he is creepy.
That incident involved performative stalking. There’s only one song to post at this point:
I’m irked that wingnuts are irked that there are male cheerleaders in the NFL. Where have they been all these years? There have always been male cheerleaders including 4 past presidents as this skeet points out:
The whining about a male cheerleader is ridiculous. Just because you're insecure in your sexuality and watching them stirs up feelings you thought you only had at family reunions doesn't mean it has anything to do with being gay.Here are four actual Presidents who were cheerleaders.
— Roger ZenAF (@rogerzenaf.bsky.social) 2025-08-19T22:21:54.671Z
The MAGA malakatude it burns. Let’s try this tune as an antidote:
Finally, I’m irked that I’m having a hard time watching Ryan Coogler’s Katrina documentary. Several of you have asked what I think of it and if I plan to write about it. Just thinking about it has reactivated my post-K survivor’s guilt. I’m not sure that watching a 5 episode docuseries is a good idea. Stay tuned.
The last word goes to Bonnie Raitt followed by Randy Newman who wrote the song: