WikiLeaks Moves Two Servers to Russia

Buildin’ on the work of Louise Mensch, Tea Pain was able to confirm two of WikiLeaks servers are now hosted inside the Russian Federation.

WikiLeaks Russia

A DNS (Domain Name Server) search reveals the IP addresses of six WikiLeaks servers.  Two of the servers, identified as and, show clearly to be hosted in Russia as indicated by endpoint 17 in the map above.

While WikiLeaks claims no ties to Russia, Internet analytics says otherwise.  Tea Pain has warned his users about visitin’ the WikiLeaks website over concerns of malware injection and other Russia tomfoolery!


Best Fishin’ Trip Ever

Tea Pain loves fishin’ more than life itself, but sadly he ain’t been since Trump got elected in 2016. Now that Joe Biden’s in the White House takin’ care of business, Tea thought it was time to treat himself, so he and his good friend Dewey Oyler headed up to Table Rock Lake.

There ain’t nothin’ better than to unplug from the interwebs and spend a day in a boat communin’ with crappies with nothin’ but a rod, a reel and a cooler of PBR. But the best thing about about the lake is that it’s a great way to get away from politics. Or so Tea thought.

There we was, out on this rocky point, pullin’ in largemouth and spotted bass like takin’ twenties out of an ATM. The beer was cold, the fishin’ was hot and all was right with the world…that is until the world’s biggest floatin’ boom box came round the bend.

About 300 yards away was this place on Table Rock called “The Swings”, a party cove where folks like to gather while their kids swing from overhangin’ cliffs on long ropes, finishin’ up with a satisfyin’ swoosh into the clear, deep water below.

The “boombox” turned out to be a black Wakemaster 5000, a 22 foot ski boat with an overhead rack the owner had converted into a 20,000 watt sound system Lynyrd Skynyrd would have been envious of. Atop the mountain of tweeters and woofers was, you guessed it, a Trump flag. Just like Dear Leader, they insisted on bein’ the loudest and most obnoxious force on the lake, their “look at me” attitude on full display as they weaved in and out of the party cove boaters at high speed, leavin’ in their wake a flotsam of chaos and empty beer cans.

They made two surgical passes through the floatilla of weekenders and began their third run, it’s inebriated occupants whoopin’ and hollerin’ “Trump Won! Trump Won! Trump twenty twenty one!” The driver decided to display his genetic superiority by takin’ a dare-devil path between two big pontoons and the 150 foot bluff. These folks musta been from outta town, because if they was locals they would know they were headed straight for the two rope swings Tea mentioned earlier in this story.

The first rope snagged the ski hook on the top rack of the Wakemaster, rippin’ the entire overhead assembly off as easy as a poppin’ a top on a Milla Light. The driver received a glancin’ blow that left him flat on his back in the floor as his MAGA barge took a sharp left and began to throttle down. Just so happens a lake patrol boat was pullin’ up about that time to check out all the excitement. Fate, as you know can be a fickle mistress at times. The Wakemaster 5000, now fully woke and optin’ not to go down in a blaze of glory, sputtered and gasped its dyin’ breath as it broadsided the much larger patrol boat.

Tea and Dewey popped the top on another cold one and trolled around the point as the officers cuffed and escorted the driver and his 3 MAGA buddies to a night in the Taney county drunk tank and a Monday mornin’ arraignment over at the courthouse in Forsyth.

Like Tea Pain said, Tea loves fishin’ more than anything in this world, and this might have just been the best trip yet.

Congratulations, You’re a Communist!

Most Trumpers here in Gizzard Ridge are layin’ low since the election, but this one feller, Buzzy Dutton, is more radicalized than ever. Buzzy relies heavily on a workin’ theory that if you don’t believe the election was stolen, you’re a member of the Communist Party.

A little birdie told Tea Pain Buzzy’s been goin’ around town sayin’ Tea Pain is a “Communist Operative”. Well, that tasty little morsel of information put a bee in Tea’s bonnet, so Tea caught Buzzy at the Skid Mark the other day and had a little man-to-man sit down with him.

Tea’ll give Buzzy credit, he didn’t hem and haw around. “Tea, I think you’re a communist. You’ve been watchin’ too much MSNBC and it’s rotted your brain.”

This came as a surprise to Tea Pain, because the neighbor that Tea “borrows” his cable from don’t get MSNBC.

“Buzzy”, said Tea with a slight grin, “If you can name just one tenet of Communism, Tea Pain’ll eat his shiny hat.” Buzzy drifted off for a split second, dreamin’ of Tea Pain mandicatin’ his patriotic chapeau.

“Well, Buzzy”, interrupted Tea, “Can you name just one?”

Buzzy suddenly began squirmin’ like a spring toad and in true MAGA fashion, he sought to change the subject to a perceived home court advantage.
“Don’t you listen to the preacher on Sunday, Tea?”, asked Buzzy with shaky optimism.

Tea’s gonna let you in on a little secret. The Gideon folks came to Tea’s school when he was in the fifth grade and handed out little pocket New Testaments. Though the cover fell off years ago and the spine in mainly duct tape, Tea still carries it with him everywhere he goes, cause you just never know.

“Ok, Buzzy. We’ll play in your ball park.”

Tea instinctively turned to the Book of Acts. Buzzy started to get that deer in the headlights look as Tea Pain instantly found the verse he was lookin’ for.

“And all that believed were together, and had all things common; And sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.” Acts 2:44-45

“Well, Buzzy, you believe that, doncha?

“Course I do! It’s in the Good Book.”, thundered Buzzy.

“Well, then you believe God wants us to abolish personal property, redistribute wealth to the poor and live communally, right?”

“God said it, I believe it!”

Tea flipped a few pages to 1st Corinthians.

“Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. ” 1st Corinthians 12:7

“How about it, Buzzy? Does God want us to do what’s best for the common good?

“You know I do”, said Buzzy, suddenly wantin’ off this ride.

Buzzy double-clutched and shifted his mental gearbox to Grandma-low.

“So, Tea, you’re good with all these Mexicans comin’ here and takin’ our jobs?”, asked Buzzy, doin’ his best Sean Hannity impersonation.

“Well, Buzzy”, said Tea calmly, “What do you think we oughta do with ’em?”

Buzzy’s eyes grew wide with Tucker Carson-fueled indignation.

“We oughta take all their stuff, sell it off and give it to all those Americans whose jobs they stole, then send ’em back to where they came from!” Buzzy pounded his fist lightly on the table to triumphantly drive his point home.

“So…”, said Tea, linin’ up the kill shot. “You believe we oughta confiscate the personal property of immigrants and rebels?”

“Abso-freekin’-lutely, Tea! If we don’t, then we won’t be America anymore.”

As a side note, Buzzy has no idea how to work his cable box. When the cable guy installed it eight years ago, Buzzy had him set it to Fox News. He ain’t touched it since.

Buzzy was suddenly overcome by the departed Spirit of Rush Limbaugh as he started to riff and freestyle, throwin’ caution to the wind.

“What we need to do is put Donald Trump back in charge and do whatever he tells us to do. That’ll fix this mess!”

“So you want us to switch to a Central Plannin’ strategy, Buzzy?”

Buzzy nodded dizzily in agreement, his eyeballs glazin’ over from his long overdue mental workout.

Tea Pain felt it was time to slam the toilet lid down to keep Buzzy from drinkin’ further from the Fox News toilet.

“Buzzy, you got one of them smart phones?” asked Tea.

“Sure”, he snapped.

“Google ‘Tenets of Communism'”

Tea removed all manner of expression from his face as Buzzy read his phone, his lips slowly dancin’ along with the words. The furrows on Buzzy’s forehead grew deeper with each line as he read about the “common good”, central plannin’, wealth redistribution, communal livin’ and seizin’ property from immigrants.

Buzzy slowly looked up from his phone to see ol’ Tea Pain suddenly grinnin’ like the ol’ Cheshire cat himself.

“Congratulations, Buzzy. You’re a Communist!”

Stable Genius


TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jul 2
Trump is not some master tactician or even a mad genius.  He’s proof Democracy was not designed to be run by an 8 year old.

Tea Pain could never understand why any press outlet would cover Trump like they did with previous respectable United States presidents.  Cable TV news “analysts” fabricated elaborate narratives about how Trump was a genius at manipulatin’ the press, creatin’ false narratives to own news cycles and stitchin’ together sophisticated strategies to drive political outcomes.  It seems odd to Tea Pain that a man with such an allegedly vast intellect and razor-sharp political acumen can’t post a single tweet without misspelled words, random capitalization and grammar guaranteed to inflict intentional emotional distress on any middle-school English teacher.

The Trump administration reminds Tea Pain a lot of the Kennedy Assassination.  Losin’ such an iconic figure like JFK before his time had to be the result of somethin’ more than a lone minimum-wage worker in a school book depository usin’ a mail-order rifle that cost less than twenty dollars.  Elaborate conspiracy theories emerged as means to more adequately explain such a tragic loss.  With Trump, the press were just like bereavin’ JFK loyalists that couldn’t imagine America had elected a racist and a fool to be the most powerful man in the free world.  There must be a more adequate explanation than the fact that America made a colossal, foolish mistake.

Once Trump became president, press outlets felt obliged to bestow the same treatment on him as Presidents Obama, Bush and Clinton before him, even though this man never displayed any behavior worthy of the great office he now occupied.  By extendin’ a similar pattern of respect, Trump’s clownish behavior began to be interpreted through the same lens of legitimacy reserved for decent, moral men with noble dreams for America.

In reality, Trump was provin’ for the first time that the Foundin’ Fathers never anticipated an electorate so uninformed or uneducated as to elect a leader with the emotional stability of an eight-year-old.  Callin’ an emotional meltdown with the G-7 “negotiations” instead of the more accurate “hissy-fit” made Trump sound no different than a legitimate president.  Labelin’ Trump’s 6.3 lies per day as “statements not backed entirely with facts” is a disservice to the office of the president, America’s ideals and the concept of truth in general.

The way Tea Pain sees it is much simpler.  Trump ain’t a great negotiator or a political genius or even a savvy businessman.  He’s a childish narcissist who desperately needs to create a fantasy world where he always wins.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Apr 28
Tonight, Trump accused the press of “making up sources.”  John Miller, John Barron or David Dennison could not be reached for comment.

For a feller that’s proud to put his name in ten foot tall letters on shiny buildings all over the world, it seems odd that Trump has no less than three secret aliases.  Desperate for controlling the narrative, Trump would slum behind the personas of “John Miller” or “John Barron” to call press outlets and brag “anonymously” about the financial success of Donald Trump or his marvel at Trump’s infamous prowess with the fairer sex.  The third moniker, “David Dennison,” recently gained notoriety as the name he chose to go on the paperwork when Michael Cohen drew up non-disclosure agreements for porn stars and playboy bunnies Trump paid to have sex with.  When you have to make up multiple fake identities to call upon press outlets to convince folks you’re a financial genius or the world’s greatest lover, chances are good you’re neither.

This is something we need to stop and dwell on for just a minute.  Pretend you’re a single woman on a datin’ site, hopin’ to meet a nice feller lookin’ for a long-term relationship.  You locate the profile of an attractive, pleasant-soundin’ guy that seems totally normal. You exchange messages, find a mutual spark and decide to meet. But before you meet him, you find out he’s got another profile on the same site created exclusively for meetin’ women seekin’ no-strings-attached adult shenanigans.  Alarm bells would go off, and you’d stop that two-faced critter dead in his tracks.  What kind of creep would be so stupid and brazen to pull such an obviously foolish stunt?  You’d naturally question his modus operandi and steer clear of that scamp.

Oddly, America was faced with the same situation in 2016.  The unwashed electorate was initially enamored with Trump, the flashy reality star, along with his “Make America Great Again” slogan and his promise of jobs, national security and personal prosperity.  Lady Democracy felt that tingly spark and decided he was worthy of her consideration. But before they could meet in November, she discovered his cadre of dark secrets he didn’t want anyone else to know about.  Racism, division, sexual assault and payoffs to porn stars made up his alternate datin’ profile.

Those same alarm bells went off in her head, but somehow she couldn’t apply the same common sense to her votin’ life that she normally exercised in her personal reality.  She foolishly let his words creep deep into the decision makin’ part of her normally-reasonable psyche.  “What do I have to lose?” she asked, repeatin’ his patented come-on line again and again. She decided to forego all the wisdom that history had gifted her, and she reached out and gave him her heart.  It took no time at all to find out that the man of her dreams was nothin’ but a two-timin’ tom cat that who was already cheatin’ on her with a younger, more promiscuous country.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Feb 8
This morning Trump will attend the National Prayer Breakfast where he will give thanks that Republicans don’t care if he pays off porn stars, defends wife beaters, supports pedophiles or conspires with foreign adversaries.

Trump sho nuff has a lot to be thankful for, particularly that Republicans don’t care how morally repulsive you are, as long as you cut taxes and pollute the environment.  When Trump endorsed pedophile and local mall-enthusiast Roy Moore for the Alabama Senate, Republicans started wearin’ their cross-trainers to work so they could sprint from their offices to their waitin’ town cars without havin’ to comment to the Press. Republicans taught us there is an acceptable amount of pedophilia that we must endure to “Make America Great Again,” provided none of their daughters are involved, of course.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – July 7
“Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road.” 

The Associated Press @AP
BREAKING: North Korea Foreign Ministry says talks with Pompeo ‘regrettable,’ accuses US of unilateral demands for denuclearization.

It’s said that people find love in the least likely places.  For Trump, it was North Korea.

The passion began with fleetin’ glances across a darkened ocean.  Neither would admit it, but each had something the other secretly desired.  Donald Trump could offer Kim Jong Un the legitimacy on the world stage that he craved; Kim was a path to a Nobel Peace Prize for Donald; and yet, there was more.  Something deeper.

Donald was smitten with the way Kim ruled a country.  He would never admit it publicly, but the way Kim dispatched his enemies, deep down, really turned him on. Starvin’ his own people?  Jailin’ the press?  Publicly incinerating political enemies with flamethrowers?  Executin’ dissidents with anti-aircraft guns?  Meow!

In Donald, Kim saw a proud, yet vulnerable man.  Kim knew in his heart Donald was a giver, someone not afraid to lay it all on the line if it meant an opportunity to distract from a string of disastrous news cycles.  Kim knew that if he played his cards right, Donald would give him all that his heart desired and more.  Over the lonely years, Kim would lay in bed at night and dream of the kind of leader that would give him world acceptance, lift cruel sanctions and, most importantly, remove U.S. troops from South Korea.  Kim never lost hope that one day his gullible prince would come.

Admittedly, Kim was a bit of a tease, so he thought he’d get Donald’s attention by playfully vowin’ to incinerate Japan, Hawaii and the western coast of the lower 48 states. As you can guess, this caught Donald’s eye and turned his head.

Donald returned the tit-for-tat of their new lovers’ game by threatenin’ to wipe all 25 million North Koreans from the face of the earth.  Donald didn’t care if millions of innocent South Koreans and Chinese died in his wake. He was in love!

Donald reached out for a date, and Kim accepted.  They decided to pick a neutral spot to meet in case things didn’t work out and one of them felt the need to duck out suddenly.  Donald, never one to hold back, poured out his love for Kim, offering one concession after another. The always-aloof Kim made Donald work even harder to win his affections.  Kim played it cool and cut the date short, but promised that if his new love proved faithful, he would more than satisfy Donald’s throbbin’ Nobel-lust.   Kim playin’ hard-to-get made Donald want him even more.

Back in the U.S., folks was puzzled by this unlikely match.  The first order of business was to determine their couple’s name.  Would it be Kim Don Trump?  Don Jong Un?  Or, perhaps just “Dong” for short?

In every blossomin’ bromance, there comes a time for the pledge of exclusivity: the mix-tape.  Donald had toyed with lovers’ nicknames but had settled on “Rocket Man.”  With that in mind, the mix-tape essentially programmed itself.  Donald would ask Mike Pompeo, his Secretary of State and personal Cyrano De Bergerac, to present Kim with a signed copy of Elton John’s Greatest Hits.   Donald knew this tender expression of intimacy would make Kim eager to spread his gates wide and allow Donald to ravish his hidden city. Donald could almost feel the heft of the golden Nobel coin around his neck already as he practiced accepting it in the mirror each mornin’ durin’ his “executive time.”

Kim listened to the mix-tape over and over.  He was so enamored with it, he ended up downloadin’ the entire Elton John catalog as a matter of fact.  True enough, “Rocket Man” was an upliftin’ anthem praisin’ Kim’s nuclear prowess, but the other songs sowed seeds of doubts about Donald’s true intentions.

The language barrier was a bit challengin’ at first, and some of the song lyrics weren’t heard exactly as Bernie Taupin wrote them.  The music touched a part of Kim he thought he had long closed off as he re-examined the early moments of their courtship in a harsh new light.  Kim felt the sting fresh again when Trump first called him a “Madman Across the Water” and promised “Donnie and the Jets” would destroy all his military bases.  Kim began to feel used and vowed he’d never be Trump’s “Tiny Dancer.”

On Saturday, July 7th, 2018, Kim publicly spurned Donald’s advances in a press release from the North Korean Foreign Ministry where he called meetings with Mike Pompeo “regrettable” and accused Donald of wantin’ him to drop his nuclear panties without puttin’ a ring on it.  Turns out “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting.” “You can’t trap me in your penthouse,” Kim promised himself. “I’m going back to my nuclear enrichment program,” he declared, as he said goodbye to the “Yellow Brick Road” of Donald’s Nobel dreams.  In no uncertain terms, Kim told Trump they would never sing “Our Song” together, and their love that once burned brightly for a season was only a “Candle in the Wind.”

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 29
Michael Cohen needs to pay Kim Jong Un $130,000 and have him sign an NDA after what he did to Trump.

Word1North Korea has increased nuclear production at secret sites  –  nbcnews.com

Do you know who the most common victims of shady investment schemes are?  Doctors and lawyers. Do you know why?  Because of their advanced degrees, they are confident that they are usually the smartest folks in the room, and they genuinely believe no one can get anything over on ‘em.  But do you know who’s even easier to con?  Con men.

After makin’ a livin’ separatin’ smart, successful folks from their money, they cultivate the kind of ego that makes them the perfect target for other con men.  It’s even easier if the other con man happens to be smarter than they are.  Such is the saga of Kim Jong Un and Donald Trump.

The first year and a half of Trump’s presidency could kindly be described as a dumpster fire.  There were so many scandals that most folks gave up tryin’ to keep track of ‘em all.  Every tweet the newly elected president made was a new embarrassment.  Each rally grew more and more unhinged.  Worst of all, lawman deluxe Robert Mueller was tightenin’ his net around Trump and his corrupt, yet incompetent crime family. Needless to say, Trump was desperate and needin’ a win, any kind of win, and in the worst kind of way.  The cherry on top is that Trump was openly envious of Obama’s success, especially Obama snaggin’ a Nobel Peace Prize.  Trump wanted one so bad he could taste it.  If he had a Nobel, he’d finally be legitimate.  Even Mueller would balk at arrestin’ a Nobel prize winner that brought peace to the Korean Peninsula.

The only man more keenly aware of Trump’s desperation was Kim Jong Un.  While Trump was busy bankruptin’ casinos, Kim was honin’ his negotiatin’ skills and executin’ an actual plan to change North Korea’s position in the world.  All this Pyongyang Bernie Madoff needed was a mark… a world leader so stupid and desperate that he would give him the status of a legitimate leader without preconditions or limitations.

Enter Donald Trump, the biggest sucker to ever come down the international diplomacy pike.  He foolishly jumped at the chance to meet with Kim.  He didn’t even spend five minutes preppin’ for the delicate game of international chess where apocalyptic nuclear exchange hung in the balance.  No pre-conditions, no restrictions…nothin’!

Trump stumbled all over himself to praise Kim.  He believed if Kim liked him, you know, really liked him, he’d make peace and Trump would get his prize.  Needless to say, Kim played his favorite dotard like a Korean fiddle.  Trump gave away one concession after another with nothin’ in return.  And how did Kim repay the favor?

By not only failin’ to denuclearize, but to step up his nuclear program.  Trump was helpless to speak out, lest he admit his poor judgement and that the Singapore Summit was a total win for Kim. Trump believed if he just laid low, the Nobel committee would come to him.

Then Trump got caught separatin’ toddlers from their mamas at the border.

Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 20

Keep your chins up, Donald.  You will surely win Mueller’s “no-bail” prize.

TeaFace The Hill @thehill
Word1Nobel Committee member condemns family separation: Trump is not a “moral leader of his country or the world.”

For a fleetin’ moment after the Singapore Summit, Trump supporters felt they could make supplication to the Nobel committee to award the big gold coin to their anointed one.  After all, in just one photo opp, he managed to bring peace to the entire world. But less than eight days later, every media outlet led with the news that little babies were bein’ ripped from their mamas’ arms at our southern border.  Funny how things like that don’t set so well with folks at the Nobel home office..

FUN FACT: Over one-third of all American Nobel Prizes in the Sciences have been earned by immigrants to the United States; therefore it is sweet, sweet justice that Trump’s hatred of immigrant minorities robbed him of his one big chance.  As soon as the committee heard of these massive human rights violations, their shirt-tails didn’t hit their hineys before they made it clear Trump is not a “moral leader of his country or the world.”  Guess Trump’ll have to settle for one of the Singapore Summit challenge coins currently sellin’ at three for a dollar in the White House gift shop.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 25
Our jobs ain’t leavin’ the country.  They’re just takin’ a permanent overseas vacation.  Nice work, #StableGenius!

The Hill @thehill
Word1#BREAKING” Harley-Davidson to move some production out of US after new Europe tariffs.

Donald Trump would be hard pressed to make change at Burger King, but his unwashed and unholy cult believes he is smarter than the most celebrated Nobel economist.  To make matters scarier, Trump believes it too.  One day, after a week of bombshell stories about more Trump-Russia naughtiness bein’ uncovered by Mueller, Trump needed something to reclaim a string of damagin’ news cycles.  Out of the blue, he thought he’d just haul off and start a trade war, even though every single self-respectin’ economist would advise it was fiscal suicide.

Trump decided to start with our most pressin’ security threat: Canada.  Them dang Canadians have been sandbaggin’ us for years, Trump reasoned, with their awesome beer, great healthcare and not one, but two Ryans: Reynolds and Gosling.  They even stole our ham and called it bacon just to piss us off.  And don’t get Trump started on Justin Trudeau.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 25
Justin Trudeau just spanked us a little, but all of the women and half of the men kinda liked it.

The Hill @thehill
JUST IN: Canada slaps tariffs on 13 billion in US goods in retaliation for Trump tariffs.

Trump thought he’d teach this Aurora Pretty Boy-ealis a lesson by slappin’ a bunch of tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum.  Ol’ Justin wouldn’t know what hit him, and he’d surely roll over immediately and submit his hind-parts for the Alpha Trump’s inspection, followed up with a satisyin’, “We’re sorry.” But the expected capitulation from north of the 49th parallel never came.

As a matter of fact, Justin stood his ground while Americans swooned over how presidential he looked compared to the bumblin’ Trump.  In less than a month, American companies that depend on steel and aluminum in their manufacturin’ process started eyein’ the exits and makin’ plans to move their production overseas to escape the arbitrary tariffs.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 27
“I’ve raised your cost of doing business in Europe by 30% and this is the thanks I get?” 

Donald J. Trump @realDonaldTrump
Harley-Davidson should stay 100% in America, with the people that got you your success. I’ve done so much for you, and then this. Other companies are coming back where they belong! We won’t forget, and neither will your customers or your now very HAPPY competitors!

Harley-Davidson, an American icon and one of Trump’s early adopted corporate step-children, was hit hard by the ill-advised tariffs.  Harley announced the tariffs would cost them over 100 million dollars, and the average cost of a motorcycle exported to Europe would be increased by $2,200.

As soon as Trump found out that Harley’s American operations would be devastated and thousands of jobs would be lost, he did the right thing, apologizin’ for his hasty decision and immediately suspendin’ the tariffs.

Just kiddin’.

Trump had just done the same thing to Harley that he had done to Stormy Daniels, and it’s safe to safe Harley was just as satisfied as Stormy was.  A reasonable person would stop and evaluate the situation, lookin’ inward for answers.  But no one ever accused Trump of bein’ reasonable.  Like a jilted lover, Trump lashed out at Harley as the bad actor in this one act tragedy. Trump then revealed it wasn’t Harley who was the true victim, it was HIM!  “I’ve done so much for you, and then this?” Trump cried.

Trump is the abuser who beats his wife, then blames her for bleedin’ on the carpet.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 27
Tell us again, @realDonaldTrump, how “jobs are coming back to America.”

The Hill
Another US motorcycle company considering moving abroad over tariffs.

Trump continued to announce tariffs on an almost daily basis in June 2018, and the “winning” never stopped. Reports poured in of mid-sized manufacturin’ plants across America layin’ off workers and raisin’ prices just to stay afloat.

Turns out Harley wasn’t the only motorcycle manufacturer feelin’ the pinch.  Polaris, maker of the Victory and Indian motorcycle lines, announced it was considerin’ movin’ its production abroad to escape the heavy burdens of Trump’s Morononomics.

Mid-Continent Nail company of Poplar Bluff, Missouri, the largest nail manufacturer in the country, was forced to lay off over 25% of its workforce to offset the sudden spike in steel.  These risin’ costs were in turn passed on to the construction industry, raisin’ costs of building all over the country.  Trump never stopped to think that while he was abusin’ the power of his office to punish our most loyal trade partners, in the end it was the American people that was gettin’ nailed.

TeaFace Tea Pain @TeaPainUSA – Jun 10

Reporter: Mr. Trump, in light of the fact that Russia invaded Crimea, shot down commercial airliners and hacked our election, who do you consider to be our biggest national security threat?Trump: Canada

Gizzard Ridge is a mighty nice place to live.  It’s fulla some of the most Christian folks that would do just about anything to help a soul in trouble. One of the best things about livin’ here is there’s always a fish fry goin’ on somewhere.  Tea’s favorite is catfish filets.  He can eat literally a million of ‘em. The only thing is, if you eat enough filets, eventually you’ll find a bone in one that gets stuck in your throat and nearly kills ya. With that picture in mind, if Gizzard Ridge was a fish fry, that one bone would be Marty Fewkes.

Marty is a middle-aged fella with about three sprigs of hair left on the top of his head that he’s trained to bend around his forehead to resemble his original hairline.  Tea Pain swears that Marty modeled the exact angle of the curvature after turn three at the Talladega Speedway. Marty also suffers from “Dunlap’s Disease,” meanin’ he drank so much Miller High Life that his belly done lapped over his drawers long ago.

But Marty’s looks ain’t the problem – they’re nothin’ that can’t be overcome by alcohol and poor judgement.  The problem is that Marty is what behavioral scientists call a “total a-hole.”  He never has a kind word to say except about himself.  He’s always got a story of romantic conquest that absolutely nobody wants to hear about.  When he ain’t crowin’ about women that none of us ever seem to have met, he’s always runnin’ his mouth about how stupid some feller is or how much they wronged him.

Last year, Marty would come into the Skid Mark just about every day around 5:30 to hit on Trish Thompson, who was usually there with her girlfriends unwindin’ from her shift as a 911 operator. Like clockwork, Trish would gently rebuff Marty’s advances, but this one particular day Marty was dead set on not takin’ “no” for an answer, and he kept at it.  Finally, Trish said, “Marty, I’m sorry but I’m not interested in you like that, but thanks for askin’.”

Marty was mighty upset.  Rather than searchin’ for answers within, he decided to tell all the boys at his next poker game that Trish had a socially transmitted disease.  Tea prefers not to talk about such things, but suffice it to say it rhymes with “Slurpees.”  It don’t take long for a wildfire rumor like that to spread around this little community, and it was only days till Trish found out.

Now speakin’ of poker, Marty used to frequent a backroom game at the Skid Mark on Thursday nights.  It weren’t strictly legal, but Bob Echols, the volunteer fire chief, never missed it, so that gave the game an air of de facto legitimacy.

One night, the fellers tipped a few back, and the pots started gettin’ pretty large – close to seventy dollars, which in Gizzard Ridge makes you a gangster.  Marty had three fives, and it was his time to take down the pot.  Marty would raise big, but ol Bob Echols matched him every time.  Marty, who genuinely believed he was always the smartest feller in the room, knew ol’ Bob was bluffin’.  When the pot hit a hundred dollars, Marty called, plopped down his fives and proceeded to rake in the pot.

“Not so fast” said Bob in his oily drawl.  Bob calmly laid down a full-house, kings over nines.  The room erupted as Marty got what everybody knew was a long-awaited comeuppance.

The top of Marty’s head got beet-red, which was easy to see with the sparse vegetation growin’ up there.  With the back of his arm, he scattered the chips onto the floor, accused ol’ Bob of cheatin’ and started to storm out.

Steve Phillips, a State Farm agent from over at Jasper, happened to be there at the table.  Steve is easily six foot seven and 280 pounds.  He grabbed Marty like a little rag doll and said he wasn’t goin’ anywhere till he made good on his debt and apologized to Bob.

Marty instantly backed down and wrote Bob a check on the spot.  In all the excitement, Bob didn’t notice that the check was written on a bank up in Harrison that went out of business two years ago.  Needless to say that was the last Thursday night game Marty attended.  To make matters even worse, Marty started a rumor that Bob and Steve secretly liked fellers and spent way too much time alone at Bob’s huntin’ cabin.

Everything came to a head last Thanksgiving.  Marty decided to deep-fry a turkey in his trailer.  He was usin’ an old fryer Tea Pain gave him that was long overdue for the scrap heap.  About twenty minutes in, a spark burst through the three layers of duct tape that held the cord socket into its base and caused some stray grease drippin’ down the side to combust into a fireball that was warmly greeted by the walnut veneer panelin’ in Marty’s kitchen.

Marty ran outside and instinctively called 911 on his flip-phone. Wouldn’t you know it?  Ol’ Trish Thompson was workin’ the phones that day.

“911. Can you hold please?” Trish said calmly as she put Marty on hold.  Time does funny things durin’ an emergency, and it seemed like a good ten minutes before Trish came back on the line to tell Marty that help was on its way.  Truth is, it was closer to fifteen.

Bob Echols was watchin’ football when his phone rang.  It was Trish from 911, lettin’ him know that Marty Fewke’s trailer was a blazin’ inferno.

“I’m might sorry to hear that,” Bob replied. “Me and the boys will get right over there… just as soon as the game’s over.”

Approximately 2 hours and 12 minutes after Marty called 911, the Gizzard Ridge volunteer fire department rolled up to the smolderin’ remains of Casa de Marty.  “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Bob with a sheepish grin. “You shoulda called us sooner.”

The next day the insurance adjuster pulled up in Marty’s gravel driveway.  Out of the passenger side stepped Steve Phillips.  Turns out Marty was ensured by State Farm, and Steve accompanied the adjuster to make sure Marty got the one-on-one experience State Farm has come to be known for.

Like a hound dog bein’ led to the scent, Steve led the adjuster straight to what used to be Marty’s kitchen, where they quickly discovered the charred duct tape that was the cause of the blaze.

“Oops,” said Steve, holdin’ up the incriminatin’ evidence that Tea Pain may or may not have instructed Steve to look for.  “Looks like we have a clear case of owner negligence here. I’m afraid we can’t cover your loss, Marty.”

The old sayin’ is true, folks.  What goes around, comes around.  If you decide to be mean to your neighbors over and over, it generally comes back to bite you.  Marty Fewkes treated the brothers and sisters of his community wrong for years, and when his time of need came, the good folks of Gizzard Ridge told Marty to go “Fewkes” himself.


Click here to get it on Amazon!

Major Alfa Bank-Trump Tower Breakthrough!


The funny thing about mysteries is sometime the answer is starin’ you right in the face so intently you can’t see it.  A year ago, Tea Pain saw a signal in the noise that got him lookin’ into the mystery of the Trump Tower/Alfa Bank server scandal.  If you haven’t read about it yet, stop and read it before you continue.  Trump Tower’s “Stealth Russian Data Machine”

When Tea Pain first looked at the publicly available raw data logs he thought he was lookin’ at a buncha gibberish.  It was just scads and scads of DNS lookups, so many they made his eyeballs spin.  There was a bunch of what Tea Pain thought was duplicate entries that made finding a pattern all that much harder.  Tea Pain decided to look at the DNS lookup summaries instead.

Something jumped outta the data and bit him right on his digital hindquarters.  There was never more than 24 DNS lookups, or “connections” in one day.  The connections, on their busiest days averaged just a little over an hour apart.  Tea Pain, no stranger to databases, data transmittin’ and such, immediately recognized a pattern consistent with “Database Replication.”  Tea wrote an article that ended up gettin’ over 250,000 views and caught the attention of media outlets and even a U.S. Senator’s office.

This theory, if true, revealed a data transmission network constantly movin’ data between Russia’s Alfa Bank, Trump Tower and, believe it or not, Spectrum Health in Michigan.   Based on the feasibility and sensibility of this real world explanation, Tea Pain was asked to prepare a list of questions to be used in the Senate Intelligence committee’s investigation.  Tea Pain was mighty honored to oblige!

In the past few months, rumors have emerged that Bob Mueller’s team is lookin’ into the Alfa Bank mystery hot and heavy, promptin’ media outlets to start puttin’ fresh eyes on this year-old scandal.  Four news outlets contacted Tea Pain for explanation of the Database Replication theory that had been favored by many investigatin’ the case.

Newspaper folks ask a lotta questions and Tea Pain quickly realized that his theory needed a little beefin’ up so he decided to go back to square one and revisit the facts.  The reporters admitted that replication made the most sense, but they needed more to feel comfortable about what was goin’ on here. So Tea pulled up the original logs (available here) and went back to square one.  That’s when he saw it!  It wasn’t duplicates like he first thought. It was pairs! Right there in the logs lay the answer.


Above is a snippet of the raw logs.  Now look at it with just a little bit of help.


All the connections were made in sets of two, four, six, eight, etc.  This is the KEY to unlockin’ the whole shootin’ match!

Early database replication was fairly straight forward.  A process on one computer would “wake up” and see if there was any new data that needed to be sent to his digital step-brother.  The process would establish two connections with another computer, one outgoin’ and one incomin’ to broadcast data changes back and forth to the other database until both databases looked exactly alike.  Then it would go back to sleep, usually for an hour, then wake up and check again.

That was cool until databases got really big and the demand to replicate larger amounts of data increased.  Smart folks figured out they could create multiple sets of connections, known also as “threads” to replicate more data in less time.  Most databases spawn these threads in pairs of 2, 4, 6, 8 and so on.


So there it was, starin’ Tea Pain in the face the whole time.  He was clearly witnessin’ “Multi-threaded Database Replication” followin’ it’s predictable and programmed algorithm to a “T”.  Check out this snippet of activity and it’ll get even clearer.


Here’s a few sessions from July 28, durin’ the Stealth Data Machine’s busiest transmission period.  These reflect each time Alfa Bank contacted the Trump Tower server durin’ the wee mornin’ hours.  Notice each time a session starts, multiple threads are spawned in pairs of 2.  The real key thing to notice is the interval.  Just a little over an hour apart!

Typically, Alfa would contact Trump Tower, and exchange data for 4-5 minutes, plenty of time to exchange gigabytes of data on high-speed 1 gigabit commercial lines.  Then Alfa Bank sets a timer for an hour and goes to sleep.  Day in, day out, this stealth data machine labored away, sendin’ its treasonous cargo round the world disguised as everyday business data.

Alfa Chart Blank

There are 3 tell-tale signs of hourly database replication

  1. Never more than 24 sessions a day
  2. Never less than an hour apart ( typically an hour and a few minutes apart)
  3. Connections made in multi-threaded pairs of 2

There you have it folks.  We can’t see the money the crooks stole, but we can plainly see what kind of getaway car they was drivin’!  Tea Pain has faith that Bob Mueller’s crew has access to way more information than this and that all the naughty boys and girls involved will be brought to justice.







No Gun Nonsense!

Uncle Tea Guns.png

(The following is an excerpt from Tea Pain’s book, “American Tweetheart.”)

Nothin’ breaks Tea Pain’s heart more than news of a school shootin’. Them poor kids, full of hope and promise, their whole lives ahead of them, struck down before they even got started. It’s a cryin’ shame.

Conscientious folks that fight to prevent the next shootin’ must ultimately do battle with the NRA, one of the most well-organized, best-financed political lobbies in America.

Before we jump into one of the most hotly contested political issues on social media, Tea Pain’s gonna take us to church on the second amendment.

2nd Amendment

Tea Pain would wager you that 98% of “Second Amendment enthusiasts” have never read the entire Constitution. To top that, Tea’d bet you even money less than half of those folks ain’t never read the entire Second Amendment for that matter, cause it’s easily one of the most tortured sentences in the history of the English language.

Now Tea Pain ain’t no scholar, but he worked awfully hard to get his GED. Not to brag, but he was the first Pain to ever have one.  Gettin’ it before his 41st birthday was just icin’ on the cake!

One of the things Tea Pain remembered from his book learnin’ was sentence structure. There’s subjects, verbs, objects, nouns… all kinds of interestin’ stuff.  One of the things they teach you is that the subject of a sentence is usually near the beginnin’.  The Second Amendment is a perfect example: “A well-regulated Militia”.

Now if the Second Amendment was supposed to give folks the right to tote their guns to Chipotle, don’t you reckon it would have said that instead?  See, it’s mighty clear we’re talkin’ about local and state militias.  And not just any militia, mind you, but a “well-regulated” one. “Well-regulated” refers to rules and policies, controls over how the militia is to act and behave.  Ain’t it funny that the one part of the Constitution that allegedly gives everyone unregulated gun rights has the phrase “well-regulated” in it?

There’s a parlor trick 2nd Amendment fanatics try to play relyin’ on the fact that the proposed version had 3 commas and the ratified version has 1 comma.  They think they have discovered some mystical secret like the DaVinci code that radically changes the whole meanin’ of the Constitution.  Think of it this way.

A functionin’ brain stem, being necessary to use Twitter, the rights of the user to use Twitter shall not be infringed.  

Congratulations!  Usin’ their “logic”, if you remove two commas, you no longer need a brain stem to use Twitter! (Which would explain some folks’ tweets)  The commas were removed from the proposed version as a matter of style and changes nothin’ to the fact it deals with the authority for state militias, much like today’s National Guard. 

Now ask yourself another question.  If gun rights were the cornerstone of Constitutional freedom, why did they “forget” to put it in the first draft?  They actually had to include it later as an amendment, an afterthought.  There’s a simple reason for that: The Second Amendment has nothin’ to do with private gun ownership!

If these hillbilly “Constitutional experts” had actually studied American history, they’d know that ol’ King George had outlawed state militias, due to the fact they were part of the colonial rebellion against the crown.  The framers of the Constitution became concerned that one day an American “king” might rise wishin’ to do the same thing to protect his own abuse of power, so they made sure that well-regulated militias were codified in writin’ – that way Americans were guaranteed by law that they could protect themselves against tyranny. And that, friends, is why the Second Amendment was born: to allow us to bear arms to protect our “free state,” but within the bounds of a well-regulated militia.  See how simple things can be when you just read the words and know a little history?

Then what about gun rights?  Ain’t we allowed to own guns to hunt and protect ourselves with?  You’re dang right we are, because guns are covered under normal private property laws just like everything else we own. The government has no more right to take away our guns than our television sets or our blenders.

When Tommy Jefferson helped draft the Virginia Constitution, he wrote, “No freeman shall be debarred the use of arms within his own lands or tenements.”  Just like Tea Pain said.  Guns is for huntin’ and protectin’ and are covered under laws of personal property. But outside of our “lands or tenements,” gun use is within the purview of federal, state and local governments.

People will fuss at Tea Pain and say this “weakens” gun rights.  Oh contraire! There is no stronger cornerstone to the United States Constitution than ownership of personal property!  America’s founders understood clearly that private property is the foundation not only of prosperity but of freedom itself.  True gun enthusiasts would be wise to line up behind this immovable pillar of American democracy and stop torturin’ the poor Second Amendment!

When Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan Earp tried to keep the peace durin’ the Wild, Wild West out in Tombstone, Arizona, they made a law that it was illegal to carry guns outside of your home within the confines of Tombstone city limits. No one would ever accuse Wyatt Earp of bein’ a gun hatin’ liberal, at least not to his face.  That law was within their jurisdiction and never violated the personal property laws of gun ownership.

In closin’, Tea Pain’s gonna use one of the Republican’s most beloved arguments against ‘em.  Gun use, outside of our homes and property, is most often a matter of “states’ rights.”

That’s not to say that states have sole jurisdiction over gun regulations, but – referencin’ the 10th Amendment – anything not covered by the federal government is automatically left up to the states to decide.  To sum up, private gun ownership is rock solid.  Takin’ your guns to town, on the other hand, is up to federal, state and local governments.  Yes, patriots, it’s that simple.  Sensible gun control in the public square is achievable and 100% constitutional.  Remember, you heard it here.

Click here to view American Tweetheart on Amazon.

Good Samaritan 2017


A man asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A poor woman’s house was destroyed by Hurricane Harvey.  President Trump flew to Texas to view the damage and saw the woman layin’ in the rubble.  

“Help me”, she gasped, in obvious pain.

“I’m sorry,” President Trump began, “but I’m too busy makin’ America great again to help you.”

Joel Osteen soon walked by, saw the woman in pain, and walked by on the other side of the street.

Ted Cruz, a U.S. senator, also saw the woman and crossed to the other side of the street.

But a DREAMER, who learned English, studied hard in school and became an EMT, happened upon the poor woman.  He pulled her from the wreckage, treated her wounds and stayed with her in the ambulance all the way to the hospital.

Jesus asked, Which of these do you think was a neighbor to the woman who was caught in the eye of the storm?”

The man replied, “The one who had mercy on her.”

Jesus told him, “I would tell you ‘Go and do the same’, but the man who wants to make America great again just deported him.”


Tokai Announce



Spectrum Health’s Role in the Trump-Russia Server Scandal

Much speculation and rumor has surrounded the mysterious data connections that bounced back and forth between Russia’s Alfa Bank, Trump Tower and the DeVos family’s Spectrum Health in Michigan prior to the 2016 election.  Rather than concentratin’ on whether it was top-secret spyware, database replication or some other whiz-bang data transmittin’ software, let’s step back and look at the role each site played and what value each player might have added to this little Trump-spiracy.

Now that some of the smoke has cleared, we know two basic facts.

  1.  Russian hackers were able to acquire voter rolls from a number of key battleground states.
  2. Russian bot-farms were able to inundate social media with fake news, propaganda and Trump-friendly talkin’ points in the run-up to the election.

The question we must ask is a simple, but important one, because the plausibility of this whole data-sharin’ shindig rests on it…

How did the Russians convert generic voter roll information into a specific list of targeted social media contacts?

In simpler terms…

From This To This

Voter rolls have basic information: name, address, maybe a phone number, but that’s it.  Unless you plan a massive door-knockin’ campaign, it’s pretty useless.  So, to repeat the question, how do you get from generic voter rolls to micro-targeted social media lists?  What’s the one thing that ties all these things together?  An email address!

From This To This

All Russian intelligence needed was to associate an email address with a name and address of a voter and bingo! Every social media account you own is tied to your email address, right?  Once they had an email, they could data-mine everything about you from your social media feeds.  They immediately knew if you were a Trumper, a Hill-bot, a Bernie Bro or a Stein fanatic, and could tailor a bot-campaign custom-made for you!

So where did they get the email addresses?  This is where Spectrum Health comes in.  Located in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Spectrum is smack dab in the middle of one of the states the Trump campaign had to tip to win.  They are a huge health-care provider with subsidiaries that include hospitals treatment facilities, urgent-care clinics, as well as physician practices that serve the western Michigan area.  But the big enchilada for this caper is their access to insurance provider databases from all over the United States.  And what do those insurance database all have?  Email addresses tied to a name and address!

Bam!  This is the key to tied the whole operation together.


So what did the DeVos family get in return for Spectrum’s role in this little ping-ping wing-ding?  You’ll have to ask the new Secretary of Education, Betsy DeVos!


Casual Racism

You’ve heard of casual dress, casual dinin’, even casual sex.  Now add: “Casual Racism.”  Sadly it’s all around us to the point where we barely even notice it.  Let Tea Pain tell you about his brush with casual racism today.

Tea Pain was eatin’ lunch at the Golden Chopstick Chinese Buffet, easily the swankiest place in Harrison, Arkansas.   Tea Pain was mindin’ his own business, enjoyin’ his chop suey and cashew chicken when he overheard two ol’ boys in the next booth talkin’ about “that Obama.”

Here’s a snippet of the convo…

Bubba: “I know Trump had to say it to get elected, but you know Obama ain’t no citizen.”

Burford: “You got that right.  He wasn’t born in Hawaii.  Everybody knows that. He claims he’s a Christian, but he ain’t.”

Bubba: “He said he went to Harvard but I don’t believe that.  He wouldn’t even disclose his transcripts.  If he won’t show his transcripts, you know he’s hidin’ something!”

At this point, Tea Pain couldn’t resist, so he leaned over and dropped a clod in them boys’ churn.

“Do you fellers think Trump should release his tax returns?

Bubba cast a jaundiced look Tea Pain’s way and chimed in, “Nope.  A man’s entitled to his privacy.”

Tea Pain let Bubba’s words lay there for a minute hopin’ he’d smell the hefty irony over his chicken with garlic sauce, but all Tea Pain got in return was a dead-eyed mackerel stare.

Nobody called anybody the “N-word.”  There was no white-pride stickers on their trucks.  They’ve never even darkened the door of a KKK meetin’,  but them two fellers just stripped a man of his dignity and equality based on his skin color.  Sadly, it makes perfect sense to them that Trump is entitled to privacy just because he’s white (well, orange).  They genuinely believe Trump is a good Christian, but not Obama, even though both have made the same confession of faith.

Seein’ no victory to be won here, Tea Pain quietly finished his meal and opened his fortune cookie.  It said, “Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction.”


Comey’s Last Cast

Fishing at sunset on the Donegal coast (© John Rafferty Photography)

If you ever spent any time fishin’, you can appreciate the psychology behind the FBI’s bombshell leak today that it used Christoper Steele’s now-famous dossier to obtain a FISA warrant against Trump adviser Carter Page last year.  This means the dossier was corroborated against other available evidence and met the threshold of “probable cause” to obtain the warrant.

That’s all well and good, but what does it mean in context of the current #TrumpRussia scandal?  That’s where the fishin’ comes in!

Tea Pain Carter Page Worm

Last week James Comey trickled out a teasin’ little morsel that Carter Page was the target of a FISA warrant.  This was ol’ Jimmy baitin’ his hook and danglin’ it in the water to see what mid-level minnow was interested in takin’ a nibble. Once Jimmy snagged him a nice juicy bait-fish or two, he’d be ready to go after the illusive tiny-finned King Fish.

If Page is the worm, then who is the little fish?  Why any one of a dozen of the usually scaly suspects will do: Mike Finn, Roger Stonefish, or Paul Manatee, maybe even a few more exotic species such as mayor-mackerel Giuliani or Boris “Blowfish” Epshteyn.

So what does this leak really mean?  First of all, it was leaked intentionally and had a loud and clear message: Comey has plenty of little fish and now he’s just cullin’.  What is “cullin'”, you ask?  That’s when you done caught your limit, but you keep on fishin’, keepin’ the bigger fish while throwin’ the little ones back.  Today’s leak is also a signal, a clarion-call that Comey is about to make his final cast and head to the house.

The dossier is for real and if you’re in it, then God help ya!  The little fish with the best fish-story escapes the fryer!