I have tried this thought experiment on every MAGAt that comes at me, and I have yet to receive one positive reason that A is GA other than their pleasure that it is hurting people like me.

Ok this latest one’s for you! Had to weigh in on who MAGA is shipping as its new celebrity power couple.

Meet America’s sassiest new power couple in… A Star is Born Again.

Wait, what? Is his groupie an elected official? And why are they calling her a Christian nationalist when she’s been acting like the vixen in a Whitesnake video?

Before long, they’re being ushered out of the building for NSFW groping and the paparazzi closes in: but instead of calling his name, they’re asking her about farm subsidies.

But then shorty starts grinding and he realizes she’s packing heat, which leads to a flirty debate about which bump stock works best on an AR-15.

Hell, he’s already been tapped for a residency at the Kennedy Center with Rascal Flatts—he’s got bigger fish to fry than some 4-eyes flashing her cleavage while sucking on a Jågervape.

He gets that his days of pulling Baywatch babes are in the rearview, but now that DEI is a crime it’s just a matter of time before white rap is the shiz again.

He gets that D.C. has different standards, but even with Coors goggles on, this hoe is a 6 at best.

So when a toothsome brunette in a bandage dress starts twerking on him at an inauguration gala, BratRap is underwhelmed.

And sometimes, the rakish country/rock-rapper finds himself wondering if the scantily clad seductresses he favors are actually interested in him for HIM or for the annual Booze-n-Meth Cruise to the Bahamas he hosts for his homies.

Still, it gets lonely at the middle of the bottom, especially when you haven’t glimpsed the top since Beyonce was in a girl group.

Now he’s gone viral for barfing at a benefit concert but joke’s on you, wokesters—he’s got more skin in his DMs than Kanye’s wife at the Grammys.

The premise: BratRap hasn’t had a hit since the Clinton presidency, but his fan base is bigger than ever after he went HAM on some Bud Light cans for letting themselves be sipped by a trans chick.

Pledge allegiance to Putin and blame trans athletes for inflation...it's time for another MAGA Hallmark movie!

I actually broke my wrist trying to walk a skittish Pomeranian (not even my own dog) on black ice…and, in an opiated haze, decided to take a run at PA15. Cast gets downsized Tuesday — any specific requests?

Marjorie Taylor Green plays all the female roles in… A Snowflake’s Chance in Hell.

By the time she removes her jacket to reveal a “Real Housewives of January 6” t-shirt, Gil is in panic mode, but what the introverted oenophile doesn’t know is that he’s just embarked on a one-way trip out of his comfort zone…and Sheila is his travel agent!

Things escalate on the plane when she heckles a baby for wearing a rainbow onesie and tells a Holocaust survivor to “go back where you came from.”

When Sheila rolls up to the airport in a Hummer festooned with Confederate flags, Gil searches his memory for past political conversations: could she have been serious when she called George Floyd a crisis actor and blamed Obama for the Parkland shootings?

In their limited interactions, he’s gleaned that Sheila is a sassy self-starter who’s always game for a gabfest—a refreshing change from Monique, the self-absorbed skyscraper saleswoman who jilted him at the altar.

On a lark, he decides to ask the chatty charmer who runs his local Quiznos: a single lady of a certain age named Sheila.

Gil wins a Wine Tour of Umbria during an NPR fund drive but there’s a catch: he has to pretend he’s married!

Take a breather from browsing timeshares in Greenland and give your bad-built butch bod a break...it's time for another MAGA Hallmark movie!

Ann Coulter plays a livid librarian in: Noem is Where the Heart Is.

Suddenly the six-packed dog dad doesn’t seem so bad…but will their fledgling flirtation survive when Danielle decides to shoot both dogs?

Before she knows it, she’s being blackmailed into a giddy gauntlet of groomer visits, onesie-knitting, Puppuccino purchases, and picturesque play dates as the frolicsome fleabag and the majestic mastiff continue their whirlwind romance.

The mastiff’s impossibly rich owner seems easy on the eyes…until he opens his mouth. Turns out the be-sweatered beefcake is a limousine liberal with a bee in his bonnet about animal cruelty!

Sparks fly when the pedigreed pooch locks eyes with the bedraggled bitch, forcing Danielle to reluctantly re-holster her ghost gun while the canines cavort.

But before she can drag the unsanitary mutt to the gravel pit, she’s waylaid by a wholesome hedge fund manager whose Tibetan mastiff has never been in love.