The featured image is of the film director Raoul Walsh. In addition to rocking that eyepatch, he directed such classics as The Roaring Twenties, High Sierra, Gentleman Jim, and White Heat. He only looks mildly vexed in this picture. so why am I using it? It’s the day when the floaters are banished from my left eye aka cataract surgery. I won’t, however, get a Raoul Walsh style eyepatch. Oh well, what the hell.

My impending surgery does not make me cranky, but the legacy media’s coverage of Team MAGA does. You know what that means: Vexatious venting about irksome things.

We begin with the headquarters of all things irksome in 2025: The White House.

I’m irked that the MSM is acting as if Trump has the power to unilaterally rename the Defense Department. It’s more performative bullshit. They can change all the signs they want but only Congress has the power to rename it.

Despite what the Insult Comedian and that half-wit Pete Hegseth think, defense is not a “woke” term. It’s about unified command. Perhaps DOD should return to its pre-1947 form with the Navy and Air Force split off from the Army. Oy, just oy.

The only good thing about the “name change” is that it dooms Trump’s chances for a Nobel Peace Prize. I don’t find that irksome.

I’m irked that the Kaiser of Chaos thinks he can turn the Rose Garden into Mar-a-Lago North:

The first rule of Rose Garden Club is don’t talk about the Epstein Files

— Pup Fiction (@pupfiction.bsky.social) 2025-09-07T05:26:50.414Z

I second this skeet:

I like this Rose Garden Club better.

— The Spirit of Lorenzo the Cat (@lorenzothecat.bsky.social) 2025-09-06T23:05:40.090Z

Dogs in the Rose Garden are Trump’s worst nightmare. Any sensible dog would bite the stupid motherfucker for paving over the grass without so much as a I beg your pardon.

I’m irked that anyone thinks that deploying the National Guard to American cities is about crime prevention. Arguing crime stats with Team MAGA is a sucker’s game. It’s not about crime, it’s about intimidation.

I’m irked that MAGA madness has inspired a wave of Hitler revisionism. It’s a warped version of the “who’s worse Hitler or Stalin” debate. I prefer the sort of Nazi hunting and punching seen in Cornered. They need Walter Slezak to give them a stern talking to and Dick Powell to follow up with a punch in the jaw or the sort of mockery found in this song:

I’m irked that President Pennywise has leapt into the New York City mayor’s race. After years of mocking his fellow pervert Andrew Cuomo, Trump suddenly thinks he rocks. They’ve even tried luring Mayor Eric Adams out of the race with promises of an ambassadorship to Saudi Arabia. I am not making this up.

I’m irked that the English language continues to be misused and abused. A New Orleans news anchor said that there would be a “dress code” for the Saints season opener. That implies something mandatory. Instead, they requested fans wear gold to celebrate the Super Dome’s 50th anniversary.

The Saints players did have a dress code: They wore gold jerseys and black pants but lost anyway. What can ya do?

Finally, I’m mildly irked that my upcoming surgery has given me an earworm. Mercifully, it’s a benign one.

The last word goes to Sonny Boy Williamson followed by The Who: