The Mooch is Off-The-Record, Y'all.

I don’t know if y’all were on the inter webs over the last twenty four hours but yeeesh yesterday = insane. I was up in Sacramento for a hearing, so only saw bits and pieces as they popped up in my feed. And yes, one of them is health care and John McCain, but I am still reading about WTH went down because of my west coast timezone and the fact that I am worried this is just the second-to-last beat of a horror film.

But friends, there's other shit I love: on Wednesday, New Yorker staff writer Ryan Lizza got a call from Scaramucci that was, ahem, less than normal and a whole lot filthier than Dan Pfeiffer ever got. You really should read it yourself if you haven’t yet, if only to see the old media struggle with how to describe certain self-pleasuring physical acts the Mooch ascribed to Bannon, a mental image you will never, EVER unsee. But there’s a silver lining in all of this, my friends. As Esquire notes: The Mooch Is God's Gift to Stephen Colbert. Part of the reasons this Missive is short is because I HAAAAAAAAAAD to watch Colbert go HAM on it all in the fourteen minute video: those facial expressions! That miming! The sheer joy!


All of this, to which the Mooch tweeted:

Oh my dear Mooch. The new White House Communications Director, who has no experience running a communications shop beyond deleting his now-awkward tweets, doesn’t understand how “journalism” “works.” Like how when an unhinged White House staffer calls you, a NEW YORKER REPORTER, and starts ranting about his colleagues without setting any interview ground rules, YOU FREAKING PUBLISH THAT SHIT SO FAST OMG.

But y’all, PR is mighty hard sometimes*

* no, it’s not in this case. It’s really not that hard. Not hard at all. Like, actually super easy.

My friends, we’re in the upside down. Have a great weekend and get off the internet, kay? Go plant a tree, pet a dog, dance a jig. Anything. Just go.