In October, my thoughts turn to Vincent Price. As far as I’m concerned, Vinnie is the king of Halloween. The featured image comes from the 1962 Poe anthology movie, Tales Of Terror. What’s not to love about Vinnie holding Peter Lorre’s head? It must, however, have been irksome for Lorre to be part of this doubleheader.

The news since last we were irked has been a mixed bag. The midterms are looking good and the preposterous Reflecting Pool “vandalism” case has been dismissed with prejudice. It cannot be filed again and the judge singled out the Kaiser of Chaos as the reason. The case itself was as irksome as hell, which leads to my stock introduction: It’s time for our monthly exercise in vexatious venting about irksome things.

I’m irked that our 80-year-old president is incapable of accepting responsibility for anything. It goes beyond projection to deflection; his enablers nod and act as if it’s okay for an elderly man to act like a spoiled rotten 4-year-old.

I’m irked that Team Trump is using public money to pay for vanity ads for the aforementioned spoiled brat president. They’re calling them public service ads when they’re really public disservice ads. It’s past time for the Kaiser of Chaos to keep his thieving hands to himself.

I’m irked that Pete Hegseth has appointed former Reich Chancellor Elon Musk to a Pentagon advisory panel. Musk’s businesses depend on Pentagon contracts. Holy conflict of interest, Batman.

Talk about the fox guarding the chicken coop:

I’m irked that slurring Indian Americans has become fashionable on the right. They seem to be following the example of Bo French. The MAGA malakatude, it burns.

Where’s JD Vance in all of this? He has a brown wife and children. Is refusal to defend your loved ones fashionable on the right now? The Veep is following the example of his potential 2028 rival Ted Cruz in declining to defend his kin. If that’s fashionable, include me out:

Speaking of JD Vance, I’m irked that he defends his friendship with Tucker Carlson who is now blaming World War II on the British. I am not making this up. The Mother Tucker is. This blame game is inane, unseemly, and ahistorical.

I’m irked by the botched execution of Christa Pike in Tennessee. The search for humane forms of execution is a farce. They’ve run through hanging, the gas chamber, the electric chair, and lethal injection during this futile quest. The only sure methods of execution are the Guillotine and firing squad. If we’re too squeamish to use them, we should abolish the death penalty.

I’m irked that there are measles outbreaks  in Pennsylvania and Texas. At least we know who to blame: Bobby Junior with an assist from Doctor Senator Bill Cassidy. The MAHA malakatude, it burns.

Finally, I’m irked that the Gret Stet Democratic party is so fucked up that we have an unknown nominee for Senate, Jamie Davis. I know that he’s a farmer because of the flood of texts I get that lead off with that. The Insult Comedian is bleeding support in Louisiana and we have a nominee whose web site barely mentions Trump or his puppet Julia Letlow by name.

Davis will be lucky to top 40%. I hope I’m wrong but it’s irksome, nonetheless. Underdogs need to go big.

The last word goes to Cowboy Mouth: