The Fur Flies In Jupiter

Chapter One

It was on the red carpet that the Breitbart bitch jumped me. Five foot six inches of wild conservative journalist, jabbering something about illegal aliens and the starving children of Judge Scalia. She'd played her cards right, smiling at me, winking and nodding, waiting until the angel dust kicked in. That was her moment to strike, with me weighing all of nine pounds and ready to fly off at the gentlest breeze. It was only the speed-enhanced reflexes of My Campaign Manager that saved me, grabbing the dyke from behind and throwing her to the ground.

Like a dog.

"Jesus Jumping Christ, man," My Campaign Manager hollered. "Did you see the size of the bomb that chick was carrying? It was fifty megatons if it was two ounces."

"I'll bet it was two ounces, you degenerate dope fiend," I replied  from high above, on wings of PCP. "You've been dropping so many blues into that gullet of yours that you couldn't tell a ball point pen from an M-X missile. We have to be careful. There are feds all over this joint. Secret Service. The Heat! How did we ever get into this shit?"

How had we ever gotten into this shit? Three sheets to the wind and cast adrift on the seas of presidential politics, with The Man breathing down our necks, and a showdown with that sinister bastard Cruz ahead, if only we could stay out of prison. Or worst of all, the White House.

It was ten months earlier, in the nineteenth hole at my exclusive resort in Mar-A-Lago, that the inspiration had struck us. Inspiration fueled by slamming back shots of Old Granddad all afternoon, with generous tokes of Panamanian Red.

My Campaign Manager and I had been discussing the trade deficit with China, and the grass deficit with Mexico, when he croaked the fatal words: "God damn it if you're so smart about the Acapulco Gold markets, why don't you run for President?"

As I reached to claw the bong out of his oversized hands, it hit me like an electric vomit-bomb: a political trip. There is nothing so crazed as a politician in rut, screeching whatever thoughts burst into his coke-addled brain like a radioactive weasel before thousands of ignorant nimrods, on total auto-pilot, completely in the now, popping off like God's own Mentos and Diet Coke. Even Mick Jagger wouldn't know how to handle such a beast.

"I'll bet you never come down from a nuclear high," I agreed.

"That's it!" My Campaign Manager screamed, "But first, we'll need the supplies." Yes! The supplies. And so we gassed up the helicopter and zoomed off like a pair of Martians on steroids, frenziedly gathering all of the dangerous drugs we'd need to make it to the White House: six keys of Colombia's finest; a pharmacist's hernia-load of reds, blues, and yellowjackets; twenty pounds of Panamanian Red; the whitest heroin from the Harz Mountains of Germany; a gallon jug of angel dust; two briefcases loaded with mescaline; twelve blotters of Florida sunshine acid; and an aquarium full of Bolivian arrow toads. Plus a hogshead of Budweiser and a big inheritance from our Old Granddad.

"You sure this shit is enough?" My Campaign Manager asked. "Enough?" I said. "We'll barely make it to the convention with a stash this small. We'll have to fuel up in Cleveland. But don't worry, motor-head. They love me in Cleveland. All of the polls say so. Why, that swine Kasich, he still owes me a kilo of Laotian white!"

"Kasich?!?" My Campaign Manager roared. "Is that a name for some kind of burrito-head?"

"He's a natural born American!" I cried, "not some demented iceback. That's Cruz you're thinking of. A Canadian through and through! Or is he a Cuban? Anyway, I have valuable plans for this Kasich fellow. He's the Governor of Cleveland, a most important state they tell me. He's vice-presidential timber! A regular master at the art of the deal."

"He sounds like a God-damned Mexican to me."

Chapter Two …

Last 5 posts by Patrick Non-White


  1. John O. says

    "Iceback", that's a new one for me and is hilarious. I see I wasn't the only one who picked up on the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

  2. Leo Marvin says

    Hunter Thompson's somewhat less drug-addled 1972 observations about George Wallace seem equally germane:

    The root of the Wallace magic was a cynical, showbiz instinct for knowing exactly which issues would whip a hall full of beer-drinking factory workers into a frenzy – and then doing exactly that, by howling down from the podium that he had an instant overnight cure for all their worst afflictions:

    Taxes? Nigras? Army worms killing the turnip crop? Whatever it was, Wallace assured his supporters that the solution was actually real simple, and that the only reason they had any hassle with the government at all was because those greedy bloodsuckers in Washington didn’t want the problems solved so they wouldn't be put out of work."

  3. says

    This is literally the worst Trump fan-fic pieces I have ever read.

    It isn't meant to sound like Donald Trump.

    But you're reading a lot of Trump fanfic? Reading it every night?

  4. junkyard dawg says

    Curious what your thoughts are on some recent developments in Alabama.

    Governor Bentley, Rebekah Caldwell Mason, their shared safety deposit box, and so on.

    Some particular allegations which you may be interested in.

    Bentley Ordered Law Enforcement to Target Critics

    Gov. Robert Bentley attempted to avoid AG probe into affair, lawmaker says

    Rebekah Caldwell Mason, Gov. Robert Bentley scandal: Advisor not required to disclose finances

    UNCOVERED: Bentley and Mason co-own secret safe deposit box together

  5. TK421 says

    As your campaign manager, I advise you to take a hit out of the little brown bottle in my shaving kit.

  6. Marzipan says

    A pretty, political pastiche. Would that the candidate be revealed just to be engaging in gonzo journalism – a la Stephen Colbert's presidential run – to expose the lunacy of the system.

  7. Salem says

    I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger: A man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.

  8. says

    But you're reading a lot of Trump fanfic? Reading it every night?

    What can I say? It's all sugarfree's fault. It's like literary* crack; one hit and you're hooked.

    *I use 'literary' in it's loosest sense, of course.

  9. PeeDub says

    I say this with the admission that I've read quite a bit of excellent stuff and quite a bit of truly horrendous stuff on this site.

    This is the absolute best thing I've read here. Thank you.

  10. SierraSpartan says

    The room was very quiet. I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to MSNBC at maximum decibels, a fine sound for sleeping, a powerful continuous hiss to drown out everything strange.

  11. Manta says


    the posts I can see on Popehat are this one, and then (again py Patrick) "Statement Of Dear Leader And In-House Counsel Joel Pollak Denouncing Criminal Acts Of Traitor Fields-Shapiro Gang" from March 14:
    is it something wrong on my side, or really there were no other posts on popehat between March 14 and today?

  12. Elyce Ellington says

    Manta, it's off-topic but I'm wondering the same thing. Randazza was a post-writing machine up until now, and we even got occasional work from Ken.

  13. Bloviator says


    Don't worry, I have a theory that Randazza has written hundreds of articles that can be released posthumously, like Tupac.

  14. IgnatzEsq says

    Patrick, having your several literary versions of the Donald Trump story is fantastic. But I am still waiting for the Tolstoy take that rejects the great man version of Donald Trump's candidacy. Instead a Donald Trump presidency would be like Moscow burning – it happened because it had to happen.

  15. AH says

    You mean I have to wait until he's gone before reading Tupac? Now you've gotten me all intrigued: What is the pac, and why do I need two of them?

  16. Fasolt says

    …slamming back shots of Old Granddad all afternoon, with generous tokes of Panamanian Red.

    Good times.

  17. Jay says

    I don't remember being around Popehat during a presidential election in the past. So….when does it return to normal?

  18. Clovis Sangrail says

    As a long time British fan of Hunter S Thompson, I would rate this as a first-rate pastiche. Of course, Trump is a gift that keeps on giving but I laughed as much as when reading the intro to The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved.

    Next, please could we have a James Thurber take on Hillary's campaign?

  19. Careless says

    So….when does it return to normal?

    Well, this is basically normal for Patrick, I have no idea how Randazza will post at other times, Ken presumably has something going on (hope you're ok, Ken), and the others aren't posting at all since last year, IIRC

    So aside from the lack of posts, I'm not seeing a big change.

  20. Roland says

    This story is a little out of date. Like, about a decade. Mexican cannabis producers are switching to maize or coke, because they can't compete with superior US production. In fact, the DEA has stated they have detected high-quality cannabis being smuggled from the US into Mexico!

  21. Mike Schilling says

    We were somewhere around Arlington on the edge of the District when the power-mania began to take hold.

  22. says

    Ken presumably has something going on (hope you're ok, Ken)

    I am well, thank you. I had a four-week trial recently, the preparation and conduct of which were all-consuming (successfully, thanks) and I am still recovering.

    Back soon.

  23. Jay says

    So aside from the lack of posts, I'm not seeing a big change.

    Well, the ones that have been posted about the election recently have been….interesting(?)…..but, free is free… I'll take what I can get.

    I am well, thank you. I had a four-week trial recently, the preparation and conduct of which were all-consuming (successfully, thanks) and I am still recovering.

    Back! Let's be honest, it's Mr. White's posts that are gold (I'll give Marc a bronze)….but it's either feast or famine….=0}

    I do wonder if you know the refresh rates of the main page when you're away…..F5….F5….F5….