You’ll recall a couple weeks ago when the ululating mustache wax golem commonly known as Mike Lindell (aka Pillow Man, aka MyPillow guy, aka the main reason God keeps postponing the rapture) had his cellphone seized by the FBI at a Hardee’s.
The FBI was apparently searching for information related to an allegedly illegal breach of voting machines by a Colorado county clerk and her associates. But that’s not the most interesting takeaway. The most interesting part of this story is Lindell’s shambolic response.
He was outraged by the “raid” and said so, going so far as to file a bonkers lawsuit demanding his phone be immediately returned.
Well, now he’s going even further by suggesting that the FBI located him so easily because they’d put a tracking device on him.
In the following clip from the grounds of Saturday’s Loser-Palooza Rally in Michigan, a Right Side Broadcasting Network reporter (probably Liz Willis, but if I stare at these pictures too long I fear my soul will leave my body and eventually wake up drunk in a Culver’s bathroom stall in Brainerd) asks Lindell about the harrowing incident, and Lindell promptly shares his latest goofball grievance.
Watch:
As a friend of mine noted after sending me this latest gormless morsel, if you’re looking for Lindell, staking out all the Hardee’s is probably the most logical course of action. Or you can just wait for someone to order 12 Monster Angus Thickburgers and a Diet Coke and then immediately send in a SWAT team.
Now, I really doubt the FBI used a tracking device to find Lindell at Hardee’s, though it’s safe to assume they did tag his ear before setting him free again. Finding Lindell is not exactly a tall order. He tends to stand out in a crowd. He’s like the opposite of a Where’s Waldo? poster. In fact, in any given MAGA mob photo, it’s difficult not to see Lindell—even if he’s not actually there. Needless to say, his image tends to sear itself into your brain, whether you want it there or not.
Don’t fret, Mike. Some day Jesus will call you home and demand you explain what in the ever-living fuck you’re talking about. Until that day—godspeed, my little corpse flower. Godspeed.
Check out Aldous J. Pennyfarthing’s four-volume Trump-trashing compendium, including the finale, Goodbye, Asshat: 101 Farewell Letters to Donald Trump, at this link. Or, if you prefer a test drive, you can download the epilogue to Goodbye, Asshat for the low, low price of FREE.
The FBI was apparently searching for information related to an allegedly illegal breach of voting machines by a Colorado county clerk and her associates. But that’s not the most interesting takeaway. The most interesting part of this story is Lindell’s shambolic response.
He was outraged by the “raid” and said so, going so far as to file a bonkers lawsuit demanding his phone be immediately returned.
Well, now he’s going even further by suggesting that the FBI located him so easily because they’d put a tracking device on him.
In the following clip from the grounds of Saturday’s Loser-Palooza Rally in Michigan, a Right Side Broadcasting Network reporter (probably Liz Willis, but if I stare at these pictures too long I fear my soul will leave my body and eventually wake up drunk in a Culver’s bathroom stall in Brainerd) asks Lindell about the harrowing incident, and Lindell promptly shares his latest goofball grievance.
Watch:
As a friend of mine noted after sending me this latest gormless morsel, if you’re looking for Lindell, staking out all the Hardee’s is probably the most logical course of action. Or you can just wait for someone to order 12 Monster Angus Thickburgers and a Diet Coke and then immediately send in a SWAT team.
Now, I really doubt the FBI used a tracking device to find Lindell at Hardee’s, though it’s safe to assume they did tag his ear before setting him free again. Finding Lindell is not exactly a tall order. He tends to stand out in a crowd. He’s like the opposite of a Where’s Waldo? poster. In fact, in any given MAGA mob photo, it’s difficult not to see Lindell—even if he’s not actually there. Needless to say, his image tends to sear itself into your brain, whether you want it there or not.
Don’t fret, Mike. Some day Jesus will call you home and demand you explain what in the ever-living fuck you’re talking about. Until that day—godspeed, my little corpse flower. Godspeed.
Check out Aldous J. Pennyfarthing’s four-volume Trump-trashing compendium, including the finale, Goodbye, Asshat: 101 Farewell Letters to Donald Trump, at this link. Or, if you prefer a test drive, you can download the epilogue to Goodbye, Asshat for the low, low price of FREE.