An hairpiece-free excursion (by request!) to bring howls of joy to your day:
And, (apologizing for the nod to the orange one from whom we so need respite) a reminder of the wellsprings of political philosophy that animate our “friends” across the aisle, not just the nominee, but his entire foreclosed on, possession taken, bust-out-begun party.
I know what’s happening when Donald Trump is one tight election away from Götterdämmerung ain’t even remotely funny. But Messrs. Python are, and sometimes we all can use a break.