Month: January 2019



Donald Trump asked Mike Pence to join him for a secret meeting with Nancy Pelosi the following day. Pence balked at the idea, saying, “I really don’t want to, sir. She’s scary. Did you know her footprint’s still on your rear-end?”

Trump ignored the remark, instead responding, “Don’t be scared. I’ll have six Secret Service agents outside if she starts trouble. I’m sure they can take her… or at least fight her to a draw.”

Pence: Make it eight and I’m in.

The next day, Nancy Pelosi entered the Oval Office to find Trump behind his desk. She extended her hand as she approached, but Trump stopped her with, “Hold it right there, Dragon Lady. There’s now a six foot demilitarized zone around my desk.”

The Speaker mumbled, “Batshit crazy” under her breath before noticing Mike Pence, his legs closed tightly, fidgeting on a couch. “Are you okay, Mr. Pence?”

Pence: Yes, it just that these chastity belts can be so uncomfortable.

Pelosi: Why would you wear a chastity belt? You don’t have anything down there, worth protecting.

Trump chuckled.

Pelosi: Why don’t you ask Mr. Trump to loan you his? Oh, wait. I forgot. I have his at home. On the pool table.

Trump: Bitch… Now let’s cut to the chase. I want my wall. There’s a crisis at our border.

Pelosi: No there’s not, you delusional twit. But I may have an idea to break the impasse.

Trump: Oh, this ought to be good.

Pelosi: I propose putting up an eight-hundred mile shower curtain.

Trump was caught off guard and pondered this for a moment.

Trump: Can it be black?

Pelosi: Sure, but why?

Trump: Are you stupid? If it’s black, then no one can see into America. They won’t know where we are. No more illegals.

He reached for the phone.

Pelosi: What are you doing?

Trump: I’m calling Amazon and ordering the curtain rods right now.

She gave him a thumbs up.



Rudy Giuliani, when told we were a nonexistent newspaper and appreciated being lied to, consented to meet with us as he rode to work in his New York office.

His limo driver picked us up first. When the car arrived at his home, the President’s lawyer and obfuscator climbed in. The driver asked, “Where to, sir?”

Rudy: 55th and Park.

Driver: 55th and Park, right.

Rudy: I meant 34th and Broadway.

Driver: No problem.

Rudy: Step on it. I need to be at 57 and Ninth ASAP.

Us: Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.

Rudy: Of course, I have great respect for “Time Magazine.” Now, the first thing I want you to know was that President Trump, in his never-ending quest to be transparent, wanted to join us on a conference call, but he’s in the Oval Office taking orders from his co-Presidents, Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh.

Us: That’s a lot of venom in just one office.

Ignoring us, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a list.

Rudy: I have to tell you that the press has been very unfair to the President. While Donald Trump is no Paul Manafort, he a fine portly man. Let me read to you all of the things Donald Trump is not guilty of… “The Hindenburg disaster, the Sacco and Vanzetti murders and he’s definitely not guilty of ever having read a book.”

Us: We can believe that…  Being an alleged newspaper, we’re interested in how you feel about your boss stopping Sarah Sanders’ press conferences?

Rudy: It’s wonderful. Sarah is suffering from fibber-fatigue and needs the rest.

Us: So, what is she doing with her free time?

Rudy: Well, since she’s the only person in the President’s administration who hasn’t used their position to make money for themselves, she’s writing a weight loss book.

Us: A weight loss book?

Rudy: Yes. The “South Bitch Diet.”

Driver: We’re here, Mr. Giuliani.

Giuliani looked out the window and screamed, “I said 46th and Madison, you idiot. Now take us to 52nd and First.”






Cornered like a rat, Donald Trump needed to vent, so he speed-dialed his BFF, Satan. The devil actually despises him, but treats him well because Trump’s one of his best producers.

When Trump called, he was put on hold for fifteen minutes by Satan’s secretary, Strom Thurmond.

The Devil finally got on the line:

Trump: I need to talk, sir. I’m really worried.

Devil: “Worried?” Don’t be. I’ve got your back.

Trump: I appreciate-

Devil: But I can’t cover your ass. Do you have tarp?

Trump: Don’t kibitz, sir. I’m very concerned. My poll numbers are tanking. Maybe I’m selling out my country too fast.

Devil: Just relax. You’re doing a splendid job. Shutting down your government to crush those federal workers and everyone they do business with, great. And I figure about a year before you destroy the healthy economy Obama left you.

Trump: I’m counting the days.

Devil: And don’t think that separating Hispanic children from their parents at the border and f**ki*g the Kurds has gone unnoticed down here.

Trump: Well, Vladimir has some great ideas… You know, he’s very popular in Russia. Maybe I should take my shirt off and sit on a horse.

Devil: Please don’t… Look, just think of your future here in Hell. When you arrive you’ll have the best accommodations and cable, but you’ll have to carry your own bags.

Trump: Pence will do that.

Devil: He won’t. Vice President Wonder Bread will be going to a newly- opened rung where he’ll wait tables in a gay bar.

Trump: You are real pisser, S-Man.

Devil: You haven’t heard the best part — his wife’s the bartender.

Trump: I love it… But can we talk about my numbers? I’m thinking of taking a new approach and showing some compassion.


Trump: Satan… Satan?… Shit.