I have a headache and I’m cranky so buckle up.

It’s Thursday so, course, I’ve had it up to here with nonsense. One too many sightings of dudes explaining things to women on social media today, and now mommy’s done. DONE. Dunzo.

A lot of people are mad about “45” hosting Kanye in the Oval Office today for… some kind of truly unfortunate and awkward rap battle, I guess?

Yes. This is happening in the People’s White House, for some reasons that are beyond my ability to grasp and my will to process.

I didn’t watch the footage because it looked like yet another sausage fest, and I’ve rather had enough of that. And I’m so full up on my own awkwardness that I could, potentially, keep myself awake all night long regretting the low lights of my day. And I didn’t even leave the house.

I’m not even mad anymore that this was going on while whole communities were being devastated by Hurricane Michael.

I mean, whatever. It’s fine. He should just sit this hurricane out and let someone else take charge. Like, I don’t know, hand over the FEMA checkbook and the power to declare a national emergency to someone with two brain cells to rub together and we’ll be OK.

Really, sir, nobody needs you to say any actual out-loud words about it. Or toss paper towels like an aristocrat offering table scraps to the peasants.

You can just chill, jefe. Do your thing. Rage-tweet at 3 a.m. or, whatever it is you do.

And while someone else is in charge, they can low-key take back the FEMA money that you handed over to ICE for whatever criminal reason that I’m sure your supporters will be super quick to perform the mental gymnastics to justify.

So no, I’m not mad about the Kanye thing. Why are we even surprised? Kanye went bye-bye even before 2009, when he ambushed Taylor Swift on stage at the VMAs to complain on behalf of Beyoncé — a woman who DOES NOT need or want anyone to fight her battles for her.

Nothing about these rodeo clowns surprise me anymore. (Apologies to actual rodeo clowns.)

The last two weeks have been enough to give me TMJ, and the headache I have at the moment is not going to be helped by looking at a room full of transparent frauds and opportunists in cheap dollar store-looking red hats.

But don’t worry about my TMJ. I’m sending my dental bill to Lindsey Graham’s office.

Because this right here has me way more mad than the Kanye thing:

Really? Why weren’t we in the streets about THAT atrocity?

Ugh. Gnight.

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