indiana recount commission helps trump finish his little purge

Spencer Deery, pictured here moments before discovering that in Trump’s GOP, opposing a gerrymander is a fireable offense adjudicated by a recount commission.
Documenting the chaos since day one — one awful day at a time.

Spencer Deery, pictured here moments before discovering that in Trump’s GOP, opposing a gerrymander is a fireable offense adjudicated by a recount commission.

Trump signs an executive order to overrule the CDC, armed with nothing but a Sharpie, a microphone, and several decades of internet comment section medical training.
Donald Trump has signed an executive order trying to personally overrule the CDC’s childhood vaccine schedule, because when you think "lifesaving immunization policy," you obviously think "guy who stares at eclipses." The order attempts to strip down routine recommendations, shove key vaccines into a vague "shared clinical decision-making" purgatory, and pretend the White House now outranks decades of epidemiology. Executive orders can’t magically erase science or state school requirements, but Trump is once again betting that chaos and intimidation can do what the law can’t.
The showpiece stunt: demanding the MMR vaccine be broken into three separate shots and spaced out across separate doctor visits, despite there being no such individual vaccines licensed in the US and zero evidence this does anything except cost families more time and money. Trump solemnly warned that combined vaccines are “quite lethal” and described a soda-bottle-sized injection being poured into children, which is not how medicine works but is a great preview of what happens when Facebook memes become federal policy. He also nodded to the long-debunked autism lie, because why not revive a conspiracy that already helped bring back measles?
To round out the authoritarian cosplay, the order tells the attorney general to go after state laws that conflict with Trump’s fantasy schedule, even though school mandates are set by states and executive orders don’t apply to the public. Vaccine law experts note this should have no direct operational effect, but that’s not really the point: the goal is to crank up political pressure on states, undermine trust in vaccines, and turn public health into another loyalty test. Herd immunity is out; herd delusion is the new official guideline.

RFK Jr. and Trump’s FDA bravely confront America’s food crisis by drafting a strongly worded form and promising to define “ultra-processed” sometime before the next salmonella recall.

The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, freshly repainted "American flag blue" and already disintegrating—seen here bravely attempting to hold its shape under the weight of one no-bid contract and about sixteen million taxpayer dollars.

Two Democrats smile politely while standing on the graveyard of Trump’s immigration policy, carefully avoiding eye contact with the body bags off-camera.

Artist’s impression of Pecan Island’s future: zero birds, fewer residents, one very happy billionaire, and a launch schedule that’s the only thing rising faster than the sea level.

Francesca Hong pauses mid-speech while somewhere offstage Tom Tiffany quietly measures the governor’s office for a new set of shredded ballots.

Pictured: a man who thinks Article III of the Constitution covers ballroom square footage and chandelier placement.

Trump explains his bold new 'semi-negotiating' doctrine, presumably right after inventing semi-alliances and semi-war.

Artist’s rendering of the new White House ballroom: half Versailles, half evidence exhibit.

Side-by-side photos of two couples: one that turned the White House into a cash register, and one that had pancakes and would like you to afford groceries.
Donald Trump logged onto Truth Social, squinted at two photos, and announced there are "Two VERY DIFFERENT America's [sic]": one showing him and Melania, the other showing Abdul El-Sayed and his hijab-wearing wife. Subtle. It’s the same old birther-era routine: slap a Muslim name and a headscarf on screen, crank up the base’s fear receptors, and call it a campaign strategy. This is what passes for policy in the Mar-a-Lago Politburo.
El-Sayed, inconveniently for Trump, can talk in complete sentences and decided to just… agree. Yes, there are two Americas: one where the "overlords" pretend to hate each other while actually uniting to make billions off public office, and one where people eat pancakes and would like to afford groceries, healthcare, and breathable air. He even put a number on it: $2.2bn hoovered up from Trump’s presidency, because nothing screams "populist champion" like using the Oval Office as your personal ATM.
Republicans are now branding El-Sayed "the most radical Senate candidate in America" for believing in clean water and not overturning elections, while Trump lovingly rolls out his full name, Abdulrahman Mohamed El-Sayed, the way he used to linger on "Hussein" for Obama. The message is clear: if your name doesn’t fit on a Bass Pro Shop rewards card, you’re a national security threat. El-Sayed’s response: it’s not radical to want health care, democracy, and non-poisoned lungs; it’s radical to torch elections and monetize the presidency like it’s another failed casino.
So yes, there are two Americas. One is a multiethnic democracy trying, badly, to function. The other is a geriatric reality-TV kleptocracy where the president calls opponents "full of shit" to roaring crowds while quietly converting public office into a $2.2bn side hustle. Trump keeps demanding voters choose which America they want. Abdul El-Sayed is just helpfully pointing out which one is currently draining their bank accounts.

Trump staring at a silent TikTok, wondering why the pop stars he publicly insults aren’t thrilled to be the soundtrack to ICE raids.

Democrats huddle in a windowless room to simulate election doomsday scenarios while Trump just skips the simulation phase and goes straight to threatening TV licenses and demanding control of everyone’s voter rolls.
Democrats are now literally wargaming how to keep elections functioning because the sitting president won’t stop screaming that democracy is fake unless he wins. In a DC conference room, Chuck Schumer, Adam Schiff, Raphael Warnock, Elissa Slotkin and friends sat through tabletop scenarios featuring AI deepfakes, death threats to election workers, and armed guys in tactical cosplay showing up at polling places – also known as "the Republican base, but with better filters."
While experts walk senators through synthetic videos and firebombed drop boxes, Donald Trump is out on primetime TV insisting China stole voter data for 220 million Americans, that 2020 was rigged against him, and that only his "Save America Act" (banning mail-in ballots nationwide and jacking up ID requirements) can fix it. Intelligence reports? His own government already said China didn’t interfere, but Trump’s solution is to threaten broadcast licenses of networks that won’t air his rant live and to push federal oversight of state voter rolls via OMB and potential FCC punishment for inconvenient coverage. Totally normal stuff from a guy who swears the real threat is "election fraud."
Protect Democracy, Democracy Forward, Marc Elias, Eric Holder and others are basically running a democracy disaster drill: what if Trump withholds funds from states that won’t hand over voter rolls, what if DHS and the National Guard suddenly materialize at polling places, what if vigilantes stake out ballot boxes and start doxxing license plates? The cheery takeaway: this is an "all-hands-on-deck" moment. Translation: the Constitution is still technically there, but the president is busy treating it like a suggestion while his allies test how far they can push fascism before someone in Congress finds a spine.

Trump unveils his Gaza 'Board of Peace' plan while the actual parties to the conflict quietly mark it "return to sender."

Waves audition for the role of ‘future coastline’ while policymakers continue to debate whether water is real.

Mitch McConnell and friends bravely voting to keep the government running just long enough to get through the election before the next shutdown cliff they scheduled themselves.

The CDC’s new logo concept: a microscope, a fetus, and Josh Hawley peering through your medical records.

Mike Lindell, seen here auditioning to be the first governor whose policy platform is 60% foam density and 40% voter-fraud PowerPoints.
The Minnesota GOP is reportedly torn over whether to hand its gubernatorial nomination to Mike Lindell, the "MyPillow" CEO who turned mass-election-denial into a full-time performance art piece. He's running on a straight Trump platform, because of course the party that tried to overturn an election is now workshopping a sequel: January 6, But Make It Scandinavian.
Some Republicans are worried that Lindell’s very public devotion to Trump might hurt them in November, which is adorable, since that same devotion has been the party’s entire personality for six years. The internal debate boils down to this: do they want a normal extremist who quietly undermines democracy, or the guy who live-streams it from a hotel ballroom next to a stack of discount pillows?
Either way, Minnesota voters are being asked to choose between ordinary conservative dysfunction and a man who spent the last election cycle trying to prove that Excel spreadsheets are a deep-state psyop. The Trump movement keeps insisting it’s not a cult, yet here we are, watching a major party seriously consider putting the MyPillow guy in charge of a state government. Sweet dreams, democracy.

The US embassy in London, pausing briefly from hosting receptions to see how much MAGA you can cram into a Magna Carta anniversary grant.

Pam Bondi hits send on an email firing a prosecutor over a six‑year‑old blog post, bravely defending the president from the mortal threat of archived WordPress takes.
Donald Trump’s justice department has once again discovered a bold new legal theory: the First Amendment is adorable, but only for people who praise Dear Leader. Federal prosecutor Will Rosenzweig was two weeks away from trying a multimillion‑dollar Medicare fraud case when conservative influencer and part‑time informant Natalie Winters dug up his long‑dead personal blog – a mix of travel, sports, and the unforgivable crime of criticizing Donald Trump – and blasted it out on social media, helpfully tagging senior DOJ officials like she was filing a customer service complaint with an authoritarian regime.
Less than three hours later, while Rosenzweig was out of town with his family observing Rosh Hashanah, he got an email personally signed by Attorney General Pam Bondi firing him. No hearing, no process, just straight from "Happy New Year" to "you’re fired for thoughtcrime." This, mind you, was a prosecutor who had returned millions to taxpayers fighting healthcare fraud and was doing so well they’d just promised him a special parking spot. In Trumpworld, that apparently translates to: excellent at your job, but insufficiently worshipful of the guy who lost the popular vote twice.
The lawsuit makes the subtext explicit: the firing was part of a broader purge of prosecutors who worked on Trump-related investigations or were insufficiently loyal to the MAGA line. Rosenzweig’s complaint torches the idea that Americans must muzzle themselves forever on the off chance they might one day work for the government, noting that conditioning public employment on political loyalty is more Havana and Caracas than Hamilton and Madison. The current DOJ, of course, declined to comment, presumably because "we fired him for hurting the president’s feelings" doesn’t test well in front of a federal judge.
So here we are: a Justice Department that treats old blog posts as disqualifying heresy, while actual Medicare fraudsters were about to go on trial thanks to the guy they just canned. Rule of law under Trump means the law rules you, and Trump rules the law. Everyone else can choose: keep your job, or keep your opinions.