2016 Elections

Grammar Dominatrix Miss Elvira Smedley whips your candy ass with commas, and you love it, bitch.

I have to get this off my chest.

It’s about something grammatical that is tearing my heart out by the roots, if a heart has roots in addition to all of those gross, rubbery-looking tubes and valves and shit. OK, so maybe not roots. But torn out.

Look it’s a metaphor, OK? Are you trying to help or not?

Alrighty then. What was I saying?

Oh yeah, restrictive and non-restrictive clauses and the correct use of commas.

I thought this was just something that illiterate millennials, if that’s not redundant, suffered from when posting stuff online about Adele’s latest “album” or trading instructions about how to microwave food faster.


But no. It is pandemic. It is appearing in PhD theses, in supposedly high-end magazines, but – let me make an analogy:

hbcYou can take The Bay – a byword for any brand whose defining character is beige, boring, my grandma would love it and I-wouldn’t-be-caught-dead – change the name to “Hudson’s Bay” styled in a groovy-antique serif font, shove a Saks Fifth Avenue concession up its ass, and after all that—

Nobody’s fooled, honey. Where’s my itchy throw with the ghastly stripes, my dog needs one, and then I’m outta here.

It’s exactly, I mean literally, the same with grammar.


What is wrong with this sentence?-

Prokofiev completed the ballet in the latter part of 1935, only a few months before fellow composer, Dmitri Shostakovich, was officially condemned in the first of two scathing editorials in Pravda.

It is the commas before and after “Dmitri Shostakovich”.

You do not use commas with a RESTRICTIVE CLAUSE.

Here’s the deal: can you remove the words “Dmitri Shostakovich” and still have the sentence make sense:

…only a few months before fellow composer was officially condemned….

No, you can’t. You have to have that clause there or it doesn’t make sense. What fellow composer? Dmitri Shostakovich.  The clause is restrictive, the words must flow and work together.

So here it is corrected using that restrictive clause:

Prokofiev completed the ballet in the latter part of 1935, only a few months before fellow composer Dmitri Shostakovich was officially condemned in the first of two scathing editorials in Pravda.

You could rewrite the sentence so that you have a NON-restrictive clause:

Prokofiev completed the ballet in the latter part of 1935, only a few months before Dmitri Shostakovich, his fellow composer, was officially condemned in the first of two scathing editorials in Pravda

Here, you CAN take out the words “his fellow composer” that are between the commas, and it still makes sense:

Prokofiev completed the ballet in the latter part of 1935, only a few months before Dmitri Shostakovich was officially condemned in the first of two scathing editorials in Pravda.

RESTRICTIVE Clause – NO commas (the clause is essential for the sentence to make sense)

NON-RESTRICTIVE Clause – Commas (the clause can be omitted and the sentence still makes sense.)


Secretary of State Hillary Clinton traveled to London in 2015


Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, traveled to London in 2015

BUT also correct is:

Hillary Clinton, the Secretary of State, traveled to London in 2015


This error is now present everywhere, and it is an appalling example of what happens when people no longer read anything but garbage online. But when you read quality stuff – printed, published literature – that has jumped through all the hoops, you absorb correct language just as quickly.

Look out for this egregious error in your online travels, if accuracy and truth matter to you. Because when you can’t accurately use your own language, you can’t accurately express your thoughts.

Here endeth the lesson. Thanks for being there!  I love you guys!  You’re Awesommmmme!!

Now drop those knickers.


What’s wrong with this sentence:

Donald Trump, Supreme Leader of the world’s greatest democracy,  hater of press freedom, four-time bankrupt, manipulative demagogue, proud misogynist, a man who holds the judiciary in contempt, someone with no experience of governing or knowledge of the workings of his own country’s democratic structure, was elected POTUS and given sole possession of the nuclear codes by a minority of eligible voters in November, 2016.

HINT:  It ain’t the commas.



Breaking news: Americans are even BIGGER dumb-ass motherfuckin’ retards than anyone thought!

October 26, 2049


Supreme Leader Donald Trump describes a hilarious encounter with  Angela Merkel.

TRUMPINGTON, D.C.:  The world is reeling today after results of the largest IQ test in history reveal what many of us had long suspected:  

Americans are so bag-of-rocks dumb, you could pour a case of vodka down their throats and they’d STILL wonder “why people called their mom ‘crack ho’ when she’d never even been to Poland.”   Seriously??!

The IQ test was designed to be as simple as possible, with straight-forward multiple-choice questions such as:

“The former New York City is now an underwater zebra mussel farm as a result of :

a) a whole bunch of socialist, leaking fire hydrants;

b) complete melting of the polar ice caps due to human-exacerbated global warming;


c) fulfillment of the End Times as described in The Book of Revelations, or was it The Secret we can never get that straight.”

Astonishingly, a quick review of the results revealed that many Americans missed the correct official answer, (a) socialist fire hydrants, casting doubt on the validity of the whole exercise.

But, hey.

Keeping America Stupid For Its Own Good

The testing had taken place over a period of 18 months, administered on the front parking lot of the magnificent glass-and-steel Trump Caucasian Bunker, Supreme Leader Trump’s fulfillment of his first campaign promise.

“As part of my plan to make America great again,” The Donald had reiterated throughout his months of stumping, “I will ditch all the antique crap, up to and including equal rights, that Sanders dude and, top of the list –  that rickety old clam shack called the White House!

“Like, seriously,‘What a dump!!’

This was consistently received with roars of approval from his supporters, although the pundits generally agree that the Bette Davis allusion was a tad recherché.

So it was with a chest-tightening pang of nostalgia that we witnessed the long-awaited test results finally being released to the public last night during the “Thinking Makes My Head Hurt, So Thank Our Supreme Leader It’s, Like, Totally OVERRRR?!” official wrap party.

And, I confess, it brought a tear even to this jaded reporter’s eye to watch some dusky-skinned Uppity’s (the new citizen-class officially referred to as “Less-Equals”, or more casually as just “niggers”) affix the print-outs to the Shaming Boards of the Imperial Dunkin’ Station – at which venue, I might add, a particularly rowdy session was in full flood.

Sorry, couldn’t resist!  Geddit!?  Flood!?  LM friggin’ AO!!!

From Donuts to Dissent, An Idea Whose Time Had Come

Enemies of the Donald have been publicly interrogated at the Dunkin’ Station since the Year Five – or rather, “dunked”, an inspired branding  which occurred to our Supreme Leader late one night while he was being fed an Entenmann’s glazed donut by a member of his intimate support team, The Comfort Chicks. 

Properly performed, “dunkin’s” encourage non-whites, gays, femi-Nazis and other Libtard traitors to confess their membership in blacklisted groups such as:-

Fuckin’ Jews who Read and Even Write! Books,
Fuckin’ Faggots Who Ram It Down Your Throats (and Not In A Good Way)
Fuckin’ PC Libtards Who Don’t Own A Gun
Stupid Cunts Who Refuse To Behave Like Ladies, and
Dumb Bitches Too Stupid to Cook and Too Ugly To Fuck.

Last night saw both Station and interrogators at full throttle, much to the delight of the hand-picked, all-menfolk invitees (though what a pity that fugitive “Bizzie” Lizzie Warren continues to evade justice, despite the best efforts of the Supreme Leader’s private police force to detain her.

Libtard bitch!  Which leads us to:

Beloved Traditions, Burning Women

burnedAdding to the celebratory atmosphere were the anguished, ear-piercing shrieks emanating from the Screaming Women Bonfire, for decades one of the most beloved rituals of the Trump reign, and traditionally held in the former Rose Garden.

Last night was an enjoyably raucous burning, leading many world leaders to speculate that the victims had been deliberately given hope of a reprieve,  a torture known as “The Emperor’s Payback for Femi -Nazi Ball-Breakers and Cock Teasers”.

Supreme Leader Trump, eloquent as always, summed up the joyful mood of the crowd, and indeed all American menfolk, as he spoke from his customary place on the outdoor, wittily-named Equal Opportunity Fellating Platform.

Despite his advanced years—and last July’s near-catastrophe when one of the Comfort Chicks failed to notice that the “side of beef” she was defrosting for a State Barbeque was actually the cryogenically-frozen Supreme Leader—good catch, Comfort Chick Tiffany!!—Trump appeared relaxed and confident, boyish, even, his toupee rakishly askew and still glowing bright orange like a beacon of hope as he continued to receive his official blow-job from Monday’s winner and the two runners-up of the “Miss Best-Fuck-In-America-This-Week!!! Pageant”.

An Inspiration to All Retards

“My fellow Bro’s!”, he began, as the thrilled crowd of menfolk prostrated themselves, per protocol, on the groomed Astroturf. This splendid recent addition to the Bunker’s landscaping undulates gently down from the Fellating Platform, across Melania Street—as fine a cul-de-sac as ever we’ve seen—and up to the very gates of Lost Bimbo Park.

Demonstrating our Leader’s concern for those to whom life has dealt a difficult hand was the participation of the “Retardettes”, his “volunteer” group of Topless Signers for the Extra-Retarded, who conveyed his speech in Super Basic English.

“You may be dumb-ass motherfuckin’ retards”, he continued, between occasional gasps of pleasure.

“… but this is the best fuckin’ triple blowjob a Supreme Leader ever had!!!  Hey, honey – watch the teeth, will ya???!!!”


Meanwhile, somewhere in the basement of the Trump Caucasian Bunker…

Hillary Rodham Clinton, convicted Femi-Nazi, Libtard,“not even particularly hot”, still behind bars at 102


The Hilltard, convicted Femi-Nazi and not even particularly hot with it.  What’s THAT all about???!!!

In a related story, today also marked the 102nd birthday of convicted terrorist Hillary “The Hilltard” Rodham Clinton, still serving three consecutive life sentences for multiple counts of “Being an Uppity, Lying Femi-Nazi and Not Even Particularly Hot With It”, though no official acknowledgement was forthcoming.

However, the FBI did manage once again to keep up its beloved tradition of releasing each year on Clinton’s birthday another thirty-thousand emails from her private server.

These, as usual, appeared to consist mainly of shopping lists related to her ill-fated Presidential campaign, communications with the former Clinton Foundation, and plans for her daughter’s wedding, as well as a couple of submarine blueprints, the location of every ready-to-deploy smart bomb in the Middle East around 2012, and the names of all double-agents formerly active in the Russian Federation.

The last ten thousand or so were especially baffling, consisting entirely of countless iterations of the phrase, “I WILL stay at home and bake cookies…”

What was the significance to Hillary of this mysterious mantra?

Was it a signal to a shadowy cadre of underground operatives?  A meditation aid?

Or did The Hilltard finally seek to express her remorse for her misguided appropriation of men’s roles, her Femi-Nazi’d, pant-suited failure to know a woman’s rightful place? 

Yeah, right. That could happen.


THIS JUST IN:  Hillary emails irrelevant, contain no evidence, for thirty-second consecutive year.

Former record of thirty-one consecutive years broken in surprise upset 

The FBI has just issued the following statement regarding this year’s thirty-thousand Hillary emails:  


Hey guys, this is, like, the FBI, soooo—you know the emails?

Yeah?  OK, well just forget about them.

comey laughThat’s right!  Forget about the emails, guysthere’s absolutely nothing important there!

You got it: Absolutely nothing!!  Nada!

I mean, not even a typo!

No crime!  Not even the INTENT of a crime!  Which we already knew, so like, why the heck

Oh man… Sorry, can’t keep a straight face… LOL!!

Like we know there’s nothing there, but we release them anyway!  LMAO!!

Man, are we a bunch of goofs or what??!!

Like, here’s us, releasing the emails: “Oops!  Irrelevant!!”

Ya know!!??

What a big, gol-darned  election-spoilin’ wank about sweet bippity-boo, right?  HA HA HA!!   Complete jerk-off!

Oh, my ribs!  Oh, boy oh boy!!??  Jeez, gottacalm down, here… deep breaths…  deep breaths…

OK, that’s it.  “Emails OK” is the message. Alrighty?  Now, everyone get some sleep!

Emails. Are. Fine !!

Ok!  Nighty-night!  Sorry!!

Our bad!!!”



And it’s nighty-night all over the republic.  



Cabbage Patch Hillary, Special Presidential Edition! Just in case you thought this was gonna be easy.



A sane election campaign where the choices were clear would be:  Priceless.

The whole family will adore that mischievous moppet of mendacity, Cabbage Patch Hillary™—now available in an exclusive-to-you special Presidential Edition!

Did I say the whole family?  Yes, ma’am—especially your little Johnny who likes to dress up and perform along with that DVD of “Priscilla, Queen of the Desert”!  As if you didn’t know where that’s headed!

Here’s our Cabbage Patch Promise : Spend just five minutes in the same room with our special Presidential Edition and we know you’ll agree: She’s the loudest, slipperiest, most sets-your-teeth-on-edge Cabbage Patch Hillary™ ever!

You sent us your feedback — and we listened! Our completely reworked, supremely confident Cabbage Patch Hillary™ Presidential Edition admits her mistakes only when she’s forced to, and with patent insincerity — just like the real Hillary! And we’ve made it even easier to tell when she’s indulging in a little fib — it’s whenever you see her lips moving!

Has she been naughty? Of course she has! Now, just say, “Cabbage Patch Hillary — you lied!” in your saddest, most disappointed mom voice, and right on cue she’ll respond with one of three totally inadequate expressions of remorse: “I’m sorry!” — “It was all a misunderstanding!”— or “That was a mistake!”

But, wait a goldarn minute, what’s this?  Why, the little — !

Ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not—before she’s even finished being sorry—she’s run right out and done the same fucktard shit all over again!

That’s right, shoppers!  She’s naughty!  Oops, she’s sorry!   No, wait, she’s naughty!  Ha ha ha!  This must be what the man meant when he said, “The fun never stops”! 

Feel like getting even more naughty-bang for your buck?   Upgrade to our Celebrity Motivational Speaker Edition for only a quarter million extra and hear her say, “Let me tell you how to get rich!”

OK now, I want to dial this back a little. That’s right, deep breaths, everyone. Time to talk some serious Hillary turkey here.  Let’s be frank — even the funnest fun wears thin eventually. We understand. There may be days when you find yourself — oh, yes — a little resentful. A little distant. Honey, we’ve been there.

But just as you begin to think you’d like nothing better than to rip her adorable little double-chinned head off for a round of waterboarding while you dispose of the torso in Her Very Own Trash Can¹, she looks at you with her weird, glassy doll eyes, cries those just-this-side-of-convincing Looks Like Real Tears™, and lisps: “Magical-White-Belted-Designer-Fweebie-Jacket” — and awwwww, shucks! Suddenly all you wanna do is dwess her up for the convention!

(Motion Graphics Bit) :

How do we do it? Our patented “Play the ‘woman’ card” technology works tirelessly behind the scenes to make you feel irrationally over-protective of Cabbage Patch Hillary™ — even though you know perfectly well she plans to bend you double post-election and shove the same twelve-inch dildo up your butt that a male candidate would! ²

Shhh! Secret!

There you go, adorable, truth-stretching little Cabbage Patch Hillary™! All is forgiven when you wear your Magical-White-Belted-Designer-Fweebie-Jacket !

Well, you know. We say “forgiven”. We mean “temporarily let you off the hook”. Potato, potahto!

Tell you what. Once this POTUS thing is outta your system and you’re back to your old, quasi-lovable “most admired Cabbage Patch Hillary in the world” thing—don’t cry, honey—we’ll invite some of your friends over,  Barbie, Liz, yeah sure, Bernie too, if we can wrangle a day pass from the “Sunset Lodge” — we’ll haul out the old Easy-Bake® oven,  and you guys can practice—you guessed it!  Staying at home and baking cookies!

Cabbage Patch Hillary™, Presidential Edition.
It’s not a choice — It’s just the only one left on the shelf !™


(OK, look, CPH, now that we’re off camera— can I be honest about the jacket? Seriously? Just between the two of us?

Shoulda gone with the Cloak of Invisibility…)

¹ Sold separately. ² Professional re-enactment, please do not attempt at home.