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In what will inevitably become known as “Agentgate”, our Boo Feeder has found the missing five months of text messages that are in addition to the known 50,000 texts between FBI agents Peter Strzok and Lisa Page. The agents have been carrying on behind their spouses backs for years meeting in pay-by-the-hour seedy motels. It was in the trash container at the Muhammad Motel in Montgomery County Maryland that Feeder found the facts filed in the following feport, er, report:

Found in a filthy trash can were ten pounds of shredded papers from the two dishonest, cheating Federal agents at the top of the news. That is on the Fox News’ headlines, all other so-called “news” media have taken orders from above to not report anything counter to their “Resist!” narrative. The slivers of papers were inserted into my own invention, the Document Togetherer Machine. In a matter of minutes a 30 gallon bag of 1/8″ by 10″ snipped paper puzzle pieces were meshed together and arranged in numerical order. FYI – my life was threatened with unspeakable tortures by the likes of a couple well known document shredder makers when I applied for a patent. I value my appendages too much to ever try that again!

The more salacious language has been edited. Sorry!

Page 1:

” My lover Lisa, miss you! Had another boring-ass meeting on Ethics with Lynch. The same old Keep It On The DL crap. As if! 2:15. Can’t wait to get my **** in your ***!”

“Love you(r) Peter! I’ll be waiting. Saw HRC today. Called her “Boss”. She kissed me! I’ll never wash my *** again! JK!”

The first one hundred plus pages were similar. Complicity with their bosses to undermine then candidate Trump and the porno banter was gagging that dangly thing in the back of my throat. To spare you, my beloved readers, that torture, I will continue with snippets from here and there over the next two thousand pages.

PS – ” Holy shitholes!I got this FAiP (Federal Agent iPhone) out of the wife’s hands just in time!Remind me to change the passcodes, Funny Face. Talked to Hold’em Holder. He is down with HRC’s plan. Said GS has no worries.”

LP – ” What I said Petey!Can’t use the same code just cuz you cant remember. I’ll keep them for you. I have a secret hiding place just for you. Not to worry. I don’t let the husband in my ***! Soros says to keep pushing the Russia plan. We got all but that goddam Fox on board. HRC’s idea to take out O’Reilly and Bolling was Classic Clinton! Sex sells baby! “

PS – ” Comey is such a ****head. We told him to keep HRC out of it but he rants on about how crooked she is then says Not! Dumb***. GS is taking care of him as only he and the Clinton’s can. Lead boots anyone?! ***hole. Hills says to stay with the Russia thing.”

LP – ” From the top. ****ing Trump goes down, Pence goes in. We got some hobags to say Pence done to them what you do to me and voila! The real winner goes in. Once she’s prez, all this other shit goes away. It’ll be better than the Holder years! We could even get together at the Marriott instead of this ****hole Muhammad Motel.Get here quick! I need a ***** shampoo!”

PS – ” You see what that Groundy said? He’s going to open an investigation on us, you and me! What a blowhard. Speaking of which!”

LP – ” It’s Gowdy and I’m scared for real. Husband took Hillary’s dough THEN says he’s leaving me anyway. Oh Sh*t. We got to get GS to take care of TG and his big*** mouth. And Joe. Him first! The Resist! thing is taking too long Pete. Schumer says to keep it up and GS is kicking in more money to the media but, damn it!, we need to step it up. Saw Joyce saying the FISA scam is going to be exposed soon. We need to get outa Dodge. NOW! Use your passport #13, I’ll use #72 and we’ll settle down in Cuba. Palm trees, rum, beaches and be treated as the royalty we are for the rest of time. Oh Peter, my Peter, your *****!”

PS – ” Who are you? Lisa Page? Never heard of you. Stop writing to me whoever, whatever you are! I am a dedicated federal employee goddammit. If you don’t stop texting me I’ll tell Mueller and you Will be sorry, whoever you are.”

By some persistent investigation, I learned that Poor Pete was now Done Peter. Seems his wife found Strzok’s FAiP in a pistol holster hung in their walk-in closet. She read what her “devoted” husband was writing to that ***** at the FBI then turned it over to Jeff Sessions hoping beyond hope that JS is honest enough to show the real collusion to the people that paid for it. Us, you and me.

Wee shall see.




Written by boofeeder

January 23, 2018 at 6:33 pm


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Donald Trump

In an undocumented, undisclosed, unverified underground urban secluded speakeasy that serves only special celebrities, Boo Feeder posed as a barperson, drink deliverer and copped a conversation with the one and only, the self declared magnificent momma Rachel Maddow. It only took six screwdrivers to loosen her lips and what spilled out was as salacious as a slippery snake!

“That phony ass doctor Jackoff! What an idiot! Canadian Cognitive Test ,my lily white ass! What the hell do Canadians know about being sane? Really? They play that white man’s, racist-ass hockey twenty four seven! And they make up some stupid-ass exam? All they know about are hockey sticks, pucks and cold-ass ice! Now you tell me they’re smart enough to make up a test then claim that Donald-ass Trump-ass is SANE! Why they…” At that point Mz. Maddow snipped the rant and ordered one more for the road. ” Set ’em up buttercup! ” She said while wagging her finger at my cohort, a busty blond that was quick to tell me she was happily married to her wife of four months and fifteen days. Brenda was excited that this marriage has outlasted her first by two months and twelve days. Hooray!

I interrupted the pairs of fixated eyes to ask Maddow why she didn’t believe Dr. Jackson. ” His credentials are unquestioned and he is no doubt apolitical so why, oh why would you think he lied about the president’s health? You do know that Trump has never smoked or had a drink of liquor, right? Might that not be a prime example for healthy living Miss Maddow?

” Listen up barkeep! I know crazy and that gold headed, woman hating, racist bastard is CRAZYYYYY! ” With that, the MSNBC personality stood on the barstool and waved her Superman glasses in circles above her crew cut and screamed in her most demonic, domineering voice ” Re-effing-sist people! Resistttttt! Dr. Jackemoff was paid by Not Hot Kelley-ass Ann-bitch! I got proof peoples! I got the goods on that wanna-be hot -scagbag Con-ass-way! I, I, I, I, I, I know the effing truth! Me! Me! Me! “

Rachel Maddow spun herself so hard that she screwed herself. Into the floor. ( That was me, Boo-ass Feeder, poking a little jab at the  insolent woman spinning on the tiles ). She stood up, ran her fingers through her hair then wiped a black goo on my chest and cried out again ” Me! Me! I was to be Chief of Staff in Hillary’s rainbow house. Me! And that rat bastard, homophobe Trump stole the election from my main-ass squeeze! Dump, dump, dump, Trump! “

What? Main squeeze? HC and RM? Now that makes sense! Maddow leads the resist! maniacs only to fulfill her dream of being a Chief of Staff for the country’s first female president. The self indulgence is of no surprise, sadly. I turned to ask her to expound on the “main squeeze” remark but she was gone. Apparently Brenda and Rachel went out the back door for some midnight delight.

I talked to Brenda a few days later. Sadly, she left her wife to be with Maddow but the “bespectacled beeatch”, as she put it, brushed her off like a bug in the night. Poor Brenda has taken a job at minimum wage where I found her, a cashier at Wally World where I was buying acetone to remove the black shoe polish stains on my once-favorite white Polo shirt.





Written by boofeeder

January 18, 2018 at 4:21 am


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While enjoying a much needed vacation on Oprah’s dime (see note), I came upon two surfers on the beach. Much to my surprise it was, I believe, a young, popular congreswoman talking to a wiry, blond mop haired boy sitting on their boards animately talking away the sunset. At the mention of “bomb”, I tucked myself behind a palm tree to eavesdrop the conversation. And what I heard will ah-freaking-maze you!

Blond Boy yelled ” Oh snap congresswoman ma’am! I’m going to get fired for this, huh? Just when I put a iPhone 10 and a new PlayStation VR Skyrim on daddy’s card. He’s gonna go all savage on that shit. It’s so LIT! Am I getting axed miss congresswoman? Oh damn!”

Bikini Woman said “Stop calling me that! We don’t have to be gender specific anymore. Man! Woman! We are what we want to be not what society tells us to be! There is no “congresswoman” or “congressman”, we are “Congressperson” now” Calming herself down with a swig or three from the bottle of Facundo Bacardi Rum she had in her Chanel beach tote. she continued ” You, fired? No way will I let that happen to my best boy! Besides, it wasn’t your fault that alarm went off. So what if you butt dialed the “impending missile” button at the EMA? It wasn’t your fault cutie pie! Now come and give your bestie a wet one!”

BB –  Looking over at the woman some twenty year older than him, he ran his fingers through his wavy locks with anticipation. Then he pulled a cigar? and a Bic lighter out of his trunks, lit it and pulled in a twenty second drag, blew it out through a smile as wide as the ocean before them and said “Thank you! You ah blazin’! I could smash you right now bae! You are the goat!”

Every generation has their own speak so I had to look up the slang later. The first few were what I thought but “goat” had me stumped. I slapped my forehead hard when seeing Greatest Of All Time. Of course! What I suspected he really meant was “milf” but that might be “so five minutes ago” for Blondie.

BW said “C’mon Doggie! Why would anyone blame you for causing panic in the streets when we all know who did it? Donald Freaking Trump pushed that button! Put a button in front of that lunatic and he’ll pound it just to get ratings. He sent out that bomb alarm from his golf-freaking-cart in shithole Florida! You wait baby boy, that golden guffaw will hit his My Button is Bigger Than Yours button if we don’t get him out of the White House. NOW! And, speaking of big buttons, get down here and show me Yours big boy!”

As Blond Boy was undoing himself, Bikini Woman’s phone started chirping. She answered the call saying “What boy? Oh, him!. He’s Lulu’s nephew. She asked me to get him a job after he quit high school in October. Eighteen. I swear! I think. Anyway, who’s watching? Him? Naw. he’s catching waves down in Byron Bay. No worries hon. What did Pelosi say? Oh, right. I’m on it already. I’ve been saying that since my hunka hunka burning love planted his fine ass on the button. It’s Trump’s fault, that’s what we say no matter what, right? I mean really, how else we going to get Hills in the White House if we don’t keep the flames stoked against Trump. Our people will fall for Anything we tell them . I know, right! Now don’t bother me, I gotta catch me a wave. A blond one!”

Her toyboy was not up to the job though. The cigar was casting it’s drift my way and the smell was unmistakable. Completely buzzed by his big blunt, BM had left his congresshuman and fell on the beach closer to the Pacific. He had his finger in the air shouting to the moon “Trump did it! What I don’t know but he did it!” Turning back to the naked woman on the beach, he said “Right bae? Damn! You blaz…” then he drifted off and planted his face in the sand.

I left the two all alone, both passed out with the tide coming in. The thought of keeping them from being covered by the impending salt water came and went. Best to let Trump do it,

NOTE: Read previous post to see how Boo Feeder got paid



Written by boofeeder

January 14, 2018 at 6:52 pm


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In an incredible public display of President Trump’s cognitive art of the deal meeting in the White House cabinet room, Senator Steny Hoyer ( D-Md.) announced that but for a piece of paper all illegal aliens are Americans. Some six or seven hours after that statement, Boo Feeder found Hoyer in a bar in Annapolis, Maryland. Once Feeder determined that senator Hoyer had been sufficiently liberated by liquor he asked for this interview:

I slid next to the man in his dedicated private booth at the Sailor Sam Suds Inn and Pub in Annapolis and said “Mr. Hoyer, my name is Boo Feeder and would you please expound on your remark to Donald Trump that people like Garcia Zarate are Americans except for a piece of paper?

” Who the hell are you coming in my safe place? Bob Fido? Boob Eater? Get the hell out of here! What are you, some kind of deplorable? Melinda! Get this bastard out of here!” Hoyer was clearly one drink away from rehab but he did calm down when I explained that I was a Democrat and simply wanted to clarify his intelligence to the American people on my blog site. ( Hey, if CNN, NBC, CBS, ABC and  MSNBC can lie their way to more advertising dollars, so can I. ) With that, Steny Hoyer granted me a few minutes of his precious time.

” Oh, sorry Mr. Feeder. I thought you were some Fox News intern looking to make an idiot of a liberal minded, Very important man. Like that Jess Walters guy. Scumbag! What, what;s the question?” he said while throwing back a shot of Yamazaki then calling for Melinda to “Fuggit Mel, bring me the whole damn bottle” The barkeep reminded the whip that the bottle has a price tag of $140,000 but Hoyer rebuffed her with ” So what cutie pie? You know I can afford a hundred of them. And more! Bring it on! How ’bout you Fido? Wanna shot?”

I corrected the now slumbering senator that I am not a Jesse Watters wannabe and that my name is not Fido and no thanks to the whiskey that rivals the price of solid gold. To evoke a more pointed answer I asked ” how about Zarate, is he an American citizen?

” Karate? Hell yezz! If you have a black belt that’s as good as that stupid citizenship paper. You want to be an American, karate master or whatever, you are what you are. No cheap piece of paper needed!” Thank goodness the man has a chauffeur driven limousine waiting at the docks. At least he has enough sense not to drive after doing unlimited shots of fifty year old whiskey.

Needling the house whip, I got in one final dig. ” So Steny, did I tell you that I am a surgeon as well as a CPA and have a doctorate in journalism? No, I don’t have a nasty, funky old hunk of paper for any of those professions but so what? I want to be all of those things so there, voila! I can do your taxes while performing a lobotomy on you then write a best seller on your lofty life! Paper, who needs it?!”

Under the booth the good senator was snoring or sobbing, I couldn’t tell. His $140,000.00 bottle of whiskey had fallen over and was spilling its gold all over Hoyer’s diamond studded Tom Ford shoes and soaking his sleeves. I hoped, no, prayed, the Cle De Cartier watch o his wrist was waterproof.

Outside, I told his driver to be careful taking his boss home, that his flipping like a fish might catch the eye of an Anne Arundel County cop and pull his driver’s license for transporting a disorderly democrat. To that, Garcia Zarate  who was recently acquitted for the murder of Kate Steinle then found employment with Steny Hoyer said ” License? Ha! My boss says I don’t need no dumbass papers! Can’t take what I don’t got, hombre!”

Hoyer came staggering out of the bar then walked directly into the cold waters of Spa Creek. I was going to pull him out but, darn it, I don’t have a Lifesaver paper certificate. Lucky for him, Melinda dove in to pull Steny out. Holding him up, both drenched with icy water, she yelled ” Now Mister Hoyer, this is the LAST time I’m saving you! Now go get some paper and dry off!”

Written by boofeeder

January 10, 2018 at 6:55 pm


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After Boo Feeder watched Michael Wolff being led off in handcuffs by the the NYPD, he took the Greyhound bus to Chicago to verify what was slithering on the grapevine. Amazingly, he found Oprah Winfrey near a Near North Side bakery. She had on a wool knit cap topped with a red, black and green fluorescent ball and matching wrap-around sunglasses. Her pantsuit was made of an “Equality, Empathy, Election!” banner that barely covered her Neiman Marcus boots. It was a strange attempt at incognito but it worked for her. Customers at the glass counters gave the spectacle a quick glance then went about ordering their croissants, injera, mandazi and creamy donuts. Only Boo Feeder watched the mega mogul squeeze past the cashier to enter the back room. This is where our fearless fanatic fact finder filed the following:

 The cashier was quick to grab my last twenty to let me in the private tables beyond the steel doors. I introduced myself to the one and only Oprah Oh-My-God Winfrey and almost lost my Balfour Cream donut when she invited me to a sit down.

Getting down to the interview before she tossed me out of the purple draped room, I asked her if her friends at the Golden Globes were on to something big. “Miss Winfrey, are you tossing your, uh, cap into the ring for the 2020 election?”

“Oh you do have your nerve Mr. Feeble! My speech was meant to empower the little people, to give hope to women all over the world, to get the party of rich, old white men a kick in the pants, so to speak. It’s time for a WOMAN to shine something more than the silver candlesticks in the Oval Office!”

I could barely hold my tongue at the thought of Monica Lewinsky shining something entirely different in that once sacred room. With bitten lips, I asked her again if she was going to run for president.

” Hell to the hell yeah!” She said in her best southern drawl. Back to her Baltimore accent where she first cut her teeth in national recognition, she added “Years ago, I watched a gold ring zwirl down a porzlain zinc in Roland Park, I said to myzelf  Oprah, you will never go down a zinc hon!” Switching to her Chicago speak she finished “Dhere you go Bah! I am gang to do baddle wit Trump in 2020!” Back to southern she said ” And there you go you old white cracker! I AM, I WILL, be Madam Mister President of this heah US of effing A in two short yeahs!” With that she dipped two mandazi’s in a luscious looking cream sauce and stuffed them in her eager mouth.

“Madam? Mister?, what does that mean and who will be your partner?  First Lady Gayle or First Husband Stedman?” Knowing I was crossing a line, I stood up expecting the rumored violent tendencies to let loose, a secret that Oprah has well preserved all these years.

Her reaction was as expected. A fork, spoon and butter knife, in that order, came spinning my way with “Take that you Woodward wannabe! Who I choose to carry my Brunello Cuncinelli luggage into the soon to be EX white house is none of your concern. That building that was built off the sweat of BLACK slaves will be repainted and renamed the RAINBOW HOUSE! Take THAT Bob-ass Feeble-ass White-ass BOY!”

The spoon, believe it or not, was the most painful implement of terror to remove. The fork and knife slid out of my chest quite easily albeit a bloody circus, the pain did not arrive until much later. The spoon that lodged its concaved end into my eye socket hurt like the hell it was thrown with. I covered myself with the rainbow tablecloth to make my final observation. “Miss Winfield” turning the name game back on her, “don’t you think you are setting a bad example to men, girls and women by not marrying this Steedleman guy? I mean you are either engaging in premarital intimacy or a decades long fear of commitment. How can the American people believe you will commit to Their concerns unless, that is, if it is Gayla Girl that you are sharing your bedroom with. In that case it’s a years long lie that you have protected by throwing utensils and God knows what. This is not the first time that”

Despite the bobbing and weaving while spitting out those last few lines, and a lot of blood, she was able to fill my mouth with her silver dish. Sideways yet, to use the vernacular of my Pennsylvania adopted dialect where “yet” is put at the end of every statement yet.

A rather obese man came in to the horror of knives. forks, spoons, dishes, tablecloths and, of course, my blood staining them all. He said “Miss Oprah! Not again! Please mister, don’t you DARE say a word” He took a handful of bills from Oprah Winfrey to buy my silence. I’d like to say that there was no amount to keep this secret but I’m not that noble, sorry. Besides, the twenty dollar bill that got me past the gates of hell was the last of my money. To maintain a sliver of self respect I’ve withheld about half of the shenanigans except for this one additional small tidbit: When the baker offered her a box the size of refrigerator, Oprah hollered ” I LOVE BREAD!” Yet.

Written by boofeeder

January 9, 2018 at 7:30 pm


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Boo Feeder was relentless in getting this exclusive interview with Michael Wolff, author of ‘Fire and Fury’, a tell all on what pundit’s claim as proof positive that Donald Trump is fit for a long stay at Bellevue Mental Hospital, not for one more day in the White House. Feeder and Wolff met  in New York City.

Here at a little known watering hole in Hell’s Kitchen, I, Boo Feeder, caught up with Michael Wolff as he was sitting alone in a dark, corner booth. He accepted my offer of a bourbon on the rocks with a lippy smile and  a loose tongue.  He answered the first question before I even asked it.

“Yes! Everything in that book is true! I wrote it as I saw it and that’s the whole truth, nothing but the truth counselor!” 

“Mr. Wolff, I’m not an attorney. Just a poor reporter trying to get to the truth on your book and on what is being reported in the media. Did Steve Bannon actually tell you that Donald Trump Jr. is a traitor and his former boss is crazy as a bedbug?”

“Listen up Mr. Bernstein, what is truth? Is truth what we believe or what we know? What is your truth may not be my truth. There’s too much peoples talking about T-R-U-T-H! What I write is how it is for ME! Who knows”

At that I cut him off. This was not a philosophical ping pong match. I reworded the question with “fact” rather than “truth” and got his reply recorded on my old fashioned pocket tape recorder. One day I’ll be able to afford that iPhone 10 but for now my old Radio Shack recorder will have to do. You see, contrary to what the leftist handlers tell their sheep, the vast majority of conservatives are not rich white men. They are simply people that believe in personal accountability. Who don’t claim being a victim of prejudice or inequality. Who don’t take out loans then burden their parents with it who signed for them in good faith. Who don’t fraudulently take money from Medicare or Medicaid  to pay for their monthly vacations. No, we are not rich people in that sense but we are rich with our values and urgency to get the truth out, whatever that truth may be.

Wolf countered with “Facts? Why, Mr. Woodward, do facts have to be so cut and dry? What I wrote about your golden boy is close enough. It’s how I see it! Barkeep! Another round here! What you drinking Geraldo, scotch? bourbon? Vodka! I bet you drink what your Rusky friends drink, don’t ya Bobby!” With that fourth attempt at my name, Michael Wolff crumpled down on the floor with his drink. Amazingly, he didn’t spill a drop.

“Close enough?” I leaned down to say. “Close enough? Did the Yankee’s play in the World Series in 2017?” He shook his head. “No. There is no such thing as “close enough” in sports or politics Wolff. The Dodgers and Astro’s don’t share the title of World Champion. The Astro’s won. The Patriot’s won the Super Bowl. It was close but only the Pat’s are champions. And, Mr. Wolf, Donald Trump won the presidency and it wasn’t anywhere near close!” Oh boy, this guy was getting under my skin Big time. That’s when I decided to tell him thanks for talking to me and got up to leave.

“Yo Wallace! You din’t drink your drunk! Whaz matter? You like to hit the bongo wit me Bunko? C;mon! I gots the goo stuff in my car. In my cab I mean. My car. My cab. Only one letter off. Close enough!”

At that public display of drunken nonsense, I called the cows.

Cows. Cops. Close enough! 


Written by boofeeder

January 8, 2018 at 8:36 pm

Hillary Clinton’s New Year’s Resolution List Found Amongst The Ashes!

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Boo Feeder spent a few hours in Chappaqua New York shortly after the report of a fire on the Clinton’s compound. Disguised as a Secret Service agent with a coiled wire sticking in his ear, Feeder rummaged through the rubble looking for …. well anything he could find of importance. Amidst the charcoaled laptops, computers and bleached out mother boards, Boo found a crumpled piece of GoldenStore stationary. At $14,000 for one sheet of paper the opulence was stifling considered it was her “charity” that most probably paid for it in 100’s of reams at a time. How the paper escaped the fire was almost as much a mystery as what she had jotted down on it.

Without further ado, this is what our fearless inmate at Westchester County jail managed to slip by the correction’s officer in our first, and last, visit to him. FYI – if you’re thinking about putting a coiled plastic coated wire in your ear to be a federal agent snooping the site of a former president, Do Not Do It! It’s a Really Bad idea! Your help with bail money would be greatly appreciated.

What the hell I’m going to do in 2018!

  • Get a new iPhone, give Humma my old one after its wiped with our beach towel
  • Lose 200 pounds
  • Ask George to fund the impeach orange ass campaign
  • Make Humma Humma learn mexicano languish
  • Tell Nancy to put me in the WH or I’ll tell MSNBC all about her and Chucky baby
  • Lose another 200 lbs
  • If Nancy dont do what I command, tell Humma baby to get the ball rolling
  • Shut down Vanity Ass Fair and SNL if they don’t get their shit together
  • Get it together! Humma Humma Humma HumA!!!
  • Poll for first lesbian couple in the white house. If neg, tell Huma to find me another fake ass husband or make up another rant on how womens are being dissed.
  • Go to Michigan this time!
  • Lose 200 pounds or whatever that Bookie guy weighs – hey that’s 3 B’s going down! Bingo baby!

The remaining shreds of the paper had three X’d out B’s, for whatever that means. Bill, Bernie and Booker??? One can only guess how the mind of a madman woman works. 

While you’re pondering that, I’m going back to Westchester County jail to check on our friend. Poor Boo does not look good in orange!

Written by boofeeder

January 5, 2018 at 1:34 am