A so-called comedian was apparently off her meds when she launched an insane, hate-filled rant against Elon Musk and the Trump Administration last night.
Former SNL host Leslie Jones was guest-hosting Comedy Central’s The Daily Show on Wednesday night and felt the best way to entertain her audience was to go on a tirade that should open her up to a visit from law enforcement.
The deranged Jones first slammed Musk for wearing a hat to the Trump meeting before seemingly threatening violence.
“If this guy gave me a pink slip, I’d give his a** a black eye. Why don’t you fire one of them hats, b**ch!” Jones yelled while the Daily Show audience cheered.
Jones addressed the Watters clip by mocking Musk for having “so many kids” and quipping ” I would rather f**k a turkey baster. Hell, I’d rather f**k a turkey.”
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Delusions of Adequacy 
The “Old Guard” Is Dismantled
Nancy Pelosi — A Spent Force, once the iron-fisted Speaker, Pelosi is now politically irrelevant, having ceded leadership and influence. She commands no serious power and is no longer the face of Democratic strategy. Her legacy is tarnished by her mishandling of impeachment optics and her defense of the intelligence bureaucracy. She’s now more of a symbol of inertia than resistance.
Adam Schiff — From Kingmaker to Clown. Schiff is no longer in the House, where he once wielded the gavel of Trump’s first impeachment. Now a freshman Senator, he’s stripped of his former status and ridiculed as a disgraced partisan operator. His “intelligence credibility” was eviscerated by the Durham Report and public backlash over his role in the Russia hoax. In the Senate minority, Schiff is a noisy but neutered figure, a mere irritant rather than an architect of opposition.
Jerry Nadler — Defanged Judiciary Relic. Nadler, once Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, is now just another aging backbencher, largely ignored. His past theatrics and failed oversight have left him a cautionary tale of overreach. Trump has effectively reversed the moral narrative — Nadler looks like the failed inquisitor, not the defender of law.
Maxine Waters — From Rooster to Featherduster. The fiery “Impeach 45” slogans of her past now ring hollow. Waters, bereft of committee power and media favor, is now seen as yesterday’s firebrand. Her flamboyant grandstanding is viewed more as performance art for legacy donors, not serious opposition.
The Real Shift: The Democratic Machine Is Rusting. These figures are no longer fearsome. They are symbols of a bygone anti-Trump regime that failed to derail him and now sit on the sidelines of history, watching the man they tried to destroy retake power.
Trump’s Comeback Flips the Script. The institutions they once weaponized against Trump — DOJ, FBI, media, academia — are being de-legitimized or restructured. he new reality is Trump in power, and his former enemies reduced to noise. The age of lawfare and “moral panic” is over. What remains is a battered old guard, mumbling their old lines to a crowd that’s moved on.
The Last Strut of the Hallway Has-Beens: A Political Pantomime in Four Acts
Act I: The Ripping Hag of Haight-Ashbury
There she was — Queen Nancy the Torn, flanked by sycophants and plastic surgeons, marching down the hallowed halls like Cleopatra in a Botox chariot. Dressed in white like a sanctified avenger, she climaxed her theatrical tantrum by ripping up the President’s State of the Union address, as though the Constitution itself was embroidered with her initials.
But the drama didn’t end there. Her Taiwan flyby, complete with Cold War cleavage, became the high-flying finale of her farewell tour. Diplomacy by décolletage! As if Beijing would tremble before a Double-D freedom flyover.
Now she haunts the Capitol like a busted Broadway understudy — a ghost of gavel past, mumbling about democracy while the new generation rolls their eyes and scrolls TikTok.
Act II: The High Priest of Hoaxes
Enter Adam Schiff, robed in crimson Spanish Inquisition vestments, wielding a scroll labeled “Russian Collusion — Trust Me, Bro.”
He proclaims: “We have the sacred duty to make Trump confess to crimes — even if we must invent them!”
Yet alas, the crowd sees through the act. Schiff’s eyes dart like a caffeinated meerkat, spinning paranoid prophecy after prophecy that never materialize. Once feared as the Sorcerer of Subpoenas, he now whines from the Senate basement, a freshman with a freshman’s locker and a freshman’s relevance.
The Durham Report slammed the cell door shut on his credibility. His witch hunt fizzled, his “whistleblowers” turned out to be wind.
Act III: Nadler the Implacably Irrelevant
And here waddles Jerry Nadler, dressed in matching inquisitorial regalia. Once he bellowed about justice — now he just bellows.
Nadler’s gait remains a mystery of physics, part man, part melting candle. He once lumbered into Judiciary hearings with the grace of a rolling file cabinet, determined to impeach Trump for sneezing in the wrong direction.
Today, he’s reduced to background furniture, occasionally waking up to demand coffee or the Constitution, whichever arrives first.
Trump outlasted him. America tuned out. All that remains is the echo of a gavel that no longer strikes fear — only yawns.
Act IV: Maxine “Impeach 45” Waters — Now Just Maxine
And finally, storming onstage with the fury of a peacock on meth, Maxine Waters: the one-woman impeachment jukebox.
“IMPEACH 45!” she screamed like it was a holy mantra, reciting it in salons, summits, and aroused sheep. But the spell broke. She’s no longer on the Sunday shows — only the Sunday crossword.
Her committee power? Gone. Her media spotlight? Dimmed. Her swagger? Collapsed like a bad soufflé.
She’s left pacing the marble corridors, muttering like a retired Shakespearean actor stuck in a bit role: “I could have been a contender! I could have impeached him a fourth time!”
Finale: Hall of Forgotten Crusaders.
The curtain falls on the quartet — Pelosi, Schiff, Nadler, and Waters — once hailed as the defenders of democracy, now remembered as propaganda performance artists in the theater of the absurd.
Their moral posturing? Mocked.
Their vendettas? Defeated.
Their legacy? A tragicomedy in four acts, soon to be archived in the dustbin of political theater.
President Trump? Still standing.
The old guard? Reduced to whispers in the hallway they once strutted down.
The Pyres of Salem Reborn: A Witch Trial for the D.C. Frauds
In the shadowed square of Liberty’s End,
Where truth once knelt and lies would bend,
The torches rise, the crowd’s eyes burn,
For now, fags burn ‘alight these witches’ for their turn.
First comes Nancy, broomstick high,
With ashes of speeches held to the sky.
Her scrolls are torn, her Botox tight,
She chants of “democracy’s final fight.”
But the flames recall her staged disgrace,
Tearing truth before the nation’s face.
“Gavel this!” the mob cries loud —
And smoke enfolds her like a shroud.
Then Schiff appears, his eyes agleam,
Still chasing ghosts from a fever dream.
He clutches scripts from CNN,
And whispers, “Trump’s colluding again!”
But Durham’s flames consume his scroll,
The fire demands his lying soul.
No tears for him, no solemn bell —
Just the scent of smoke and intel hell.
Old Nadler shuffles, cloak askew,
Puffed up like dough and turning blue.
He chants “Obstruction! Treason! Crime!”
But no one listens this fourth time.
He waddles to the stake with pride,
As if his hearings hadn’t died.
The logs ignite — no jury frets.
They’re roasting more than vinaigrettes.
And Maxine now, in blazing red,
Waves her fists above her head.
“Impeach 45!” she shrieks once more,
As if the crowd would still adore.
But chants and slogans now fall flat,
She’s preaching to a crowd gone scat.
A final shriek, a puff of smoke —
The ghost of cable news went broke.
The crowd disperses, justice done,
Not through trials, but searing sun.
Where once they ruled with moral flame,
They’re now footnotes without a name.
Their lies, their rage, their frenzied fraud,
Now cast upon the wrath of God.
No martyrs here, no Salem shame —
Only charlatans consumed by flame.
And in the ash, a sign is placed:
“Here burned the Clowns who Disgraced the State.”
________________________________________________________________
The Resilience of Democracy
Finale: The Hall of Hopeful Voices
As the curtain rises on a new refrain,
Where truth and justice rise again,
The echoes of the past still ring,
But hope ignites a brighter spring.
Their trials? A testament to the fight,
For every wrong, we seek the right.
Their legacy? A story of resilience,
In the face of chaos, we find brilliance.
President Trump? A figure of strife,
Yet democracy breathes, it holds its life.
The old guard? They may fade from view,
But new voices rise, steadfast and true.
The Flames of Justice: A Trial for the People’s Will
In the heart of Liberty’s vibrant square,
Where dreams take flight and voices dare,
The banners wave, the crowd stands tall,
For now, we rise, we answer the call.
First comes Nancy, with courage bright,
Her spirit unyielding, ready to fight.
With words of hope, she lifts the veil,
For democracy’s truth shall always prevail.
Then Adam steps forth, with vision clear,
No ghosts to chase, just a future near.
He speaks of unity, of bridges to mend,
In the face of division, we shall transcend.
Old Jerry stands firm, with wisdom to share,
His heart beats for justice, his voice fills the air.
“Accountability!” he calls with pride,
For the strength of the people shall never subside.
And Maxine, fierce, with passion ablaze,
Calls for justice in these tumultuous days.
“Impeach the hate!” she shouts with might,
For love and equality are our guiding light.
A final cheer, a chorus of hope,
The spirit of democracy helps us cope.
Where once they ruled with fear and disdain,
We rise together, breaking every chain.
Their lies, their rage, now shadows of old,
In the warmth of our truth, we stand bold.
No charlatans here, just voices that sing,
In the heart of the people, democracy’s spring.
And in the light, a banner unfurls:
“Here stands the hope that unites our world.”
_______________________________________________
Finale: Hall of Forgotten Crusaders
“Her Election to Lose — and She Lost.”
Let the record show:
She had the crown, the court, the coin.
She had the press curled at her feet like hounds.
She had the data, the donors, the DNC.
She had the Obamas — high priests of vanity —
chanting her victory into the wind.
She had the world, the polls, the pundits…
And she lost.
Hillary Rodham Clinton —
the empress of inevitability,
chose corruption over courage,
hubris over humility,
Goldman Sachs speeches over Rust Belt souls.
While she cackled behind closed doors,
the Midwest bled in silence.
While she ghosted Wisconsin,
the ghosts of coal miners whispered,
“She doesn’t see us.”
Yes, her election to lose.
And she lost.
And who marched at her side?
Barack Hussein Obama —
The chosen one, who promised hope,
but left Chicago broken and the Middle East in fire.
He weaponized agencies,
spied on journalists,
sent pallets of cash to terror states,
and preached democracy while rigging primaries.
He mocked the flyover states —
“You didn’t build that,”
and they remembered.
Oh, they remembered.
The Messiah of Martha’s Vineyard,
watching the republic drown
from the deck of his $12 million hypocrisy.
Together, they birthed a party of mirrors and masks —
no message, just moralizing.
No platform, just pronouns.
No bread, just lectures.
And when the reckoning came —
when the farmer, the welder, the waitress awoke —
they didn’t choose Hillary.
They chose the hammer that would smash their palace.
The media wept.
The pollsters gnashed.
Hollywood howled into champagne.
But it was done.
The Clinton star fell — and with it,
the lie that they were untouchable.
No Russian wizard did this.
No Facebook spell.
No Macedonian meme farm.
Just the arrogance of fools,
crumbling beneath the weight of their own deceit.
And now?
They wander the Hall of Forgotten Crusaders,
etching memoirs no one reads,
recasting history no one buys,
grasping for relevance that vanished
on November 8, 2016.
Let it be carved in stone:
She had it all.
She lost it all.
And it was glorious.
THE END OF CNN.
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