Clap Backs and Commentary: Couch F*cker Edition

You will laugh Sofa King much

JD Vance is sofa away from ever being vice president.

Are the jokes getting old? Maybe a little. But I still have a collection of them, as well as some other stuff. I haven’t done one of these clap backs and commentary posts in quite a while because I’ve been up to my ass in alligators researching my new book. Also, I’m on vacation right now and trying to do less internet. But I’m making an exception today, for reasons that will soon become clear.

This motherfucker has stupid he hasn’t even used yet, and he’s Jewish! You would think a Jew would know not to compare a relatively harmless joke that the vast majority of us know isn’t true to the systematic extermination of six million people. Fucking hell. He deserves that major ratio.

In other news, JD fucked that couch so hard he made a “memory hole” in it:

He’s “mystified.” Well, let me spell it out for you. We are poking fun at him because he’s an irredeemably misogynistic ass bag. Fuck him and the couch he rode in on.

After Tim Walz was picked as Harris’s VP choice, semi-sentient vaginal desiccant Ben Shapiro (not to be confused with another possible Democratic party VP pick Josh Shapiro) lost his mind on Twitter. He was flailing madly trying to convince people this is great news for Trump’s airborne pig of a campaign, like Homer Simpson proclaiming “It’s still good! It’s still good!” And his sycophants were doing all sorts of mental gymnastics in an effort to agree with him. Like this one:

Enough couch gags. Here is some other stuff to make you gag:

Ray is a frequent commenter on my page and people have looked at his photo and described his as a “Dollar Store Doobie Brother.” If you saw the photo you’d agree. Oh, "What a Fool Believes.”

If you don’t get the context of this next one, there IS a reason that funeral homes prefer to hire women. And yes, THAT is the reason.

And finally:

In the last few days the invasion of fascist Facebook pages with low follower counts and zero interaction has been off the charts. They go apeshit on any page promoting Harris / Walz, and of course I don’t give a fuck about their “opinions.” But here is something I do give a fuck about: my friend Father Nathan Monk.

It’s quite possible you know him. He has a popular Facebook page and we share a lot of followers. But right now he’s getting screwed over and needs help, and so I’m going to share a message that he posted yesterday. Instead of telling you to subscribe to me or buy my book, I’m going to ask you to read this:

FROM FATHER NATHAN MONK’S FACEBOOK PAGE:

I’m not doing okay.

This is one of the weirdest feelings I’ve ever felt, so I’m at a loss for descriptions, which is unusual for me. So, I’m probably going to overdo it in my attempts to explain.

As of today, I am officially car-less again.

Over two months ago, my family was involved in an accident that totaled my vehicle. Everything with the insurance company seemed normal at first, but then it went off the rails. To make an extremely long story short, the tow truck guy took my vehicle off of private property before we were done with the negotiations with the adjuster and it’s resulted in me not only not having a car, but he also destroyed most of my personal effects inside the vehicle. We tried to settle with the company, but we are heading in a different direction.

Now, we are in a battle with the insurance company, and I’ve been in a rental car, out of pocket, since that time. I’m told it might be a year or more before we get an answer. Today, I finally ran out of my emergency fund.

This is how they win.

Because the insurance company has yet to pay out, I’m also still paying my car note every month for the car I don’t have anymore, plus the rental car, and it’s just been too much.

In the unending calamities, I stepped out on my back porch about a month ago and went straight through. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt, but a portion of the porch had rotted. Right before leaving for Chicago two weeks ago, I found some guys to fix the porch, and I gave them a deposit. The project was supposed to be complete when I returned, but it wasn’t. They tore the porch apart, and now it’s just like that. There are no repairs; they didn’t purchase the wood the deposit was for, and that’s where we are at.

It’s like everything has been unraveling in slow motion, and any time I turn around, I’m stomping out fires. It’s been overwhelming.

I am overwhelmed.

I am not okay.

I am going to be okay.

That’s what I keep telling myself every single day because moments like this send me into the depths of existential panic. Having grown up in homelessness, whenever things don’t go well, I start to spiral. It takes over, and I clench up. It’s like my body remembers how it all happened, how it spun out of control, and anytime something like this happens, my mind is screaming, “You are thirty seconds away from the streets again!”

It’s too many things.

It’s too much, not okay.

Worst of all, I’ve been holding so much of it in. Any time I speak vulnerably, the trolls use it against me, and it’s weeks of fallout. So, instead of telling y’all in detail as to what I’m facing, I’ve been trudging along as best I’m able.

Turning the rental car in today sent me over the edge.

I could feel waves of panic flushing over my body. All solutions to my problems feel way out in the future, and I’m not handling any of it well. I’m clamming up, shutting people out, and being less responsive, and none of that is good. I know that cerebrally, but it’s like a second-nature survival technique.

In my heart, I know it’s all going to be okay, actually, but today, it doesn’t feel that way at all. This muscle memory from my past trauma is choking me out and not in the fun way.

I need a break.

I need something to go right.

I need part of this to not be so difficult.

I cannot keep up at the pace I am going.

Even as I’m writing this, I can hear the trolls gleeful that my life isn’t going great today. But I’ve got to just say it out loud. No matter if they mock me or harass me or whatever they do. I can’t hold all these feelings in anymore.

I’m scared and I hate it.

I feel like I’ve been treading water for months now, and every penny is being dumped into a car that doesn’t exist anymore or one I’ve been using on borrowed time. Yet, my income is based upon me traveling either for events or to find antiques to restore. Now, I am officially grounded. I’m trying not to let it crumble me.

I will not let it crumble me.

I am going to be okay.

But I am not okay today.

Today brought back all of the worst memories and horrific feelings of pure pulsating dread.

So, this is me, despite all my anxiety, despite all my feelings of unworthiness, and despite knowing that those who wish to see me fail are smiling with delight, I’m admitting that I need help. I am officially at my wit's end.

I can’t do this alone.

If you are able, please go check out my sh+p. I’ve just put up a ton of amazing stuff:

charityinstitute.com/shop

If you don’t have anything you need from there, you can also use any of these:

CashApp: $NathanMonk

Venmos: @fathernathan

PayPal.me/fathernathan

It’s James again. I’m gonna donate as soon as my wife gets up and tells me how to send money over this here internet thingy. I would ask that you consider doing the same.