News flash: I’m not going to bitch about the heat. We’ve gone from a long stretch of extreme heat to normal New Orleans hot with highs around 90 with lower dew points. The weather is not why I’m cranky today. It’s the news. As it should be.

Another month, another featured image of a British actor playing a Roman emperor. Last month, it was Rex Harrison as Julius Caesar in Cleopatra. This month, it’s Brian Blessed as Augustus in I Claudius. He was JC’s great-nephew, adopted son, and successor. The lucky bastard got his own month: August is named for Augustus.

The featured image shows an enraged Augustus after learning that his daughter Julia could have used this Beach Boys classic as a theme song:

Augustus was cranky upon learning of his daughter’s proclivities. I’m just plain cranky. You know what means: It’s time for our monthly exercise in vexatious venting about irksome things.

I’m irked that the legacy media fell for the Cornyn con. He’s the ultimate establishment Republican who has always put party loyalty first. He’s also known to be what passes for a decent human being in today’s GOP. That led the press to think he was a possible no vote against the corrupt and incompetent Todd Blanche. He never was. It was the political equivalent of a Texas twister:

I’m irked that the Insult Comedian and his gang have a new scam. They’re selling advance access to Trump’s truthy posts. You say advance access; I say insider trading. Let’s call the whole thing off with another Beach Boys tune:

I’m irked that nine establishment law firms caved to Trumpist extortion last year. I’m not irked that we’ve learned how it happened at Paul Weiss. It’s not a pretty story but shakedowns never are.

I’m irked that anyone was indicted for vandalizing the reflecting pool. I’m not irked that it led to the Kaiser of Chaos accusing Jeanine Pirro of choking for dropping the case. MAGA infighting is always amusing.

Pirro was faced with evidence that refuted her case. She was forced to choose between sycophancy and the possible loss of her law license. She made the practical choice, which led to Trump’s accusation that she’s The Chokin’ Kind:

I’m irked that I don’t like either candidate in today’s Michigan Democratic senate primary, but it’s up to Michiganders, not me. All I’m hoping for is peace after the primary. It’s time to disband the circular firing squad and take aim at the real enemy, MAGA Republicans. The last thing Dems need is to lose a seat they currently hold because of infighting.

I’m irked that The Clownfish DBA Jeff Landry thinks that the Gret Stet of Louisiana’s path to progress includes data centers. Normal people are irate over data centers in their backyard. Nobody ever called The Clownfish normal, we’re unlikely to get back to Gamalian normalcy until he’s out of office:

I’m irked with myself for writing off the Andrew Tate story as an internet phenomenon. I changed my mind after reading the jaw-dropping expose by Heidi Blake in The New Yorker and my jaw doesn’t drop easily. It’s some serious shit and Don Junior and his very tall kid half-brother have ties to the Tates. It has the potential to become the next Epstein scandal.

Repeat after me: Andrew Tate is a pimp.

Finally, I’m irked by the banal and vacuous debate over a film I haven’t seen yet, The Odyssey. Why haven’t I seen it? I don’t dig 3-hour long sword and sandal movies. I also don’t dig Elon Musk’s attempts at cultural appropriation. I have plenty of Greek relatives who have darker skin than many Black folks. Besides, The Odyssey is fiction, not fact. Helen of Troy could be green for all I care.

The last word goes to Dixie Dregs: