The Shape of Fire

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Unauthorized.  The bleak, blasted and blighted path seemingly leading from Wolff's Whitehouse witch hunt. But such pretty witches, forgive us if this sweet chariot swings so asymptotically near Melania's deep mascara and Loboutin's red souls (sic.) These weren't made in America, were they?

Its a Fast-and-furious shout-out shot out of a coal shute faster than white-nosed bats out of hell. Hell, Hollywood and Babylon were never like this. Those slicing tweet shots zooming out of super swanky "Murcialago" barely whiffing the temple forehead fonts of journalism's ivy towers are drowning in the pond. That thing in 'The Shape of Water' should be hurling them back. But they hurtle past us harmlessly while tripping up that one-legged hurtler, $Trump.

Indeed, he is like the proverbial one-legged man in an *ss-kicking contest. He should be feeling the heat of controversy in the eye of this year's Polar Vortex of Irony. We notice it should be sweeping over the Whitehouse - just now and not on Xmas. You see Virginia - er Donald - Climate Change must be real. Climate Change and Santa Claus morphing into a Krampus-shaped Satan Claus. Forgive us, that schadenfreude simile is barely resistable. And he is dropping fire-bomb cyclone shape charges all over this kakatrumpian hellscape.

Meanwhile, Steve-Miller-cum-Reinhard-Heydrich is having an extra-Factual nuclear meltdown on national syndicated Sunday political TV. Shades of Paddy Chayefsky. Its like Oliver Goldsmith, Shakespeare and Hunter S. Thompson all time-travelled here and rolled into one. This is classic-cubed stuff that just cannot be made up. Along with the "Tax Change" its like Burroughs wrote his sequel 'The Naked Sh*t Sandwich". Yea, it is that bad and smells worse. But, Thank God, no drugs are involved - we hope, we pray.

We're already in a New Cold War, we hope and we pray its just that. This filet-of-soul and counterfeit caviar stinkburger already smells to High Hades. And that's bad enough. We invested heavily in Taibbi's "Insane Clown President" only to wake up to this year's 'Fire and Fury' that Trumps all. Yes, its worse than we suspected and we reach for a Bismo and/or blue ribbon cognac. We've had enough of this toxic fire hose lava flume running past our noses smelling like fire and brimstone. And I'm Cotton Mather ringing a bell in front of Hades' Gates with a "Run! Flee!" placard in this frostbitten hell scape. Res  ipsa loquitur.