Bewitched

“Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.”—Lorenz Hart, lyricist.
“I read that a bunch of witches have gotten together to put a curse on Trump, and I think the Christians need to be praying for him to defend him.”—Pat Robertson, televangelist.
“We just can’t go on a witch hunt.” –House Intelligence Chair Devin Nunes, R-Ca.
“It’s a witch hunt.” Roger Stone, Trump confidant (referring to investigation of the Russian connection).

Who knew that Trump’s election would usher in a Wiccan resurgence? Sure, some may have had a premonition, perhaps there were omens, but it fell to cognoscenti of the occult, like Robertson and Stone, to point out the obvious: it’s gotten so you can’t swing a dead black cat by the tail without hitting at least two witches. They are ubiquitous, casting spells here, forming ritual circles there. The Hog has heard that there is a pentagramhouse atop Trump Tower. And even a casual observer would have no trouble believing the Trump administration (an oxymoron if ever there was one; the guy seems not to be able to administer his way out of a paper bag) was operating under the influence of some sort of hex.

Leave it to those godless Russkis to invoke the assistance of Neopaganists. First they put a lying curse on Michael Flynn, and then a similar enchantment on Cracker-General Jeff Sessions. Speaking under oath, our new Attorney General was asked by Sen. Al Franken, “… if there is any evidence that anyone affiliated with the Trump campaign communicated with the Russian government in the course of this campaign, what will you do?” The AG responded, “Senator Franken, I’m not aware of any of those activities. I have been called a surrogate at a time or two in that campaign and I did not have communications with the Russians, and I’m unable to comment on it.”

Turns out, during the campaign, the Jeffster had two meetings with the same jolly fellow who met with Flynn, Russian ambassador Sergey Kislyak. Oops. Ah well, just a coincidence these guys were meeting with a heavyweight from the same country that was hacking the Democratic opposition. Mere happenstance that they both lied about it until they were busted. Of course, Kislyak is a simple diplomat, unschooled in the ways of cloak and dagger. And the Hog will be judging the Miss America Pageant next year. Wait, no, competing in the pageant. Wait, no, winning it. Might as well dream pig, er, big.

Coincidence-schmoincidence! It was the witches! They put the prevaricatin’ whammy on these two upstanding Trumpistas, befuddling them until, for the first time in the era of Trump, fact became fiction, and fiction fact. (Oops, maybe not the first time. A pox on these enchantresses! They’ve even jinxed the Hog!).

At any rate, now we know the source of the magical thinking that’s led us to this sad pass. So, instead of being bothered and bewildered, the Hog says, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. See you at the séance tonight; I’ll bring the Ouija board.

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