“A federal judge in Manhattan ruled against a request from President Trump to block his longtime lender, Deutsche Bank, from complying with congressional subpoenas seeking his detailed financial records.” — New York Times, 5/22/19
I mean it, guys — I’m warning you! You better stop parsing the faded text in those ancient tomes over there, hoping to finally find an obscure spell sending me back to the Chaos Dimension. Just because you won the keys to the Blasphemous Library in the recent Torment Gauntlet doesn’t give you the right to start looking through the dusty grimoires for an end to my unfathomably cruel reign of horror. I don’t care what the edicts established by my forebear Daemons say, stop looking in there for banishment oaths and curse reversals! I’m super serious right now!
I called this morning conclave of the blood hierophants to discuss soul harvest plans for the next lunar cycle, but if you’re gonna be this way, then I’m gonna call the whole thing off. It’s like you’re not even interested in working with my reanimated Necro-Party on the upcoming Reaping, so why should I put forth any effort while you frantically tear through those volumes for a way to end my madness? It’s Elder God harassment, plain and simple.
And it’s not like you’re gonna find the right spells in there, anyway. You’re totally wasting your time. No known incantation or sacrificial offering can erase me from the mortal plane, so you might as well just put those oily manuscripts in their parchment bindings back on the bone shelf. Hey, hey, and definitely put that one down! Yeah, the one bound in rat flesh, which else would I be flailing at with my tentacle? You can translate the madman author’s screeds all you want — I’ve got nothing to hide in those pages. But still, you know, don’t translate it. And definitely don’t make copies to pass around the ruins of the capitol!
I cut over half of all governmental spending through our inaugural culling of those too weak, infirm, or in possession of expired student visas to contribute to my Unending Reign of Nightmarish Un-Mercy, but you all seem intent on running those deficit numbers back up with investments into counter-charms and protection sigils. When I adopted “I See All And It Shall Burn” as my campaign slogan, you all thought it was silly and dramatic. “Burn it all? You really mean all of it?” you guys’ scoffed. Well, look who’s choking on bitter ashes now, trying to read incomprehensible ciphers in a last-ditch effort to nullify my existence?
It’s all such a colossal waste of time and resources — truly an embarrassment to this rotting nation. I was at one of my gore orgies in Topeka last week, and all my Death Cultists in the crowd kept wailing and rending their ragged clothes over this insult to our cosmic administration. They know how foolish it is to keep delving through the bowels of arcane philosophies and alchemy to find the faintest glimmer of hope with which to send my slime-covered alien carcass back from whence it oozed. It’s so obvious my opposition is looking for a way to distract from the unprecedented change I cast across the country. I dare you to find one person still capable of lucid speech to say they can recognize what this nation has mutated into in the months following my ascendance.
Speaking of which, the people spoke loud and clear during that last — what was it you called it? Right. — “fair and equal democratic election.” They made it known they didn’t care whether or not I drew my power from corrupted and infernal sigil magicka. I followed the rules determined by human minds, and it got me in this Sadist Crypt formerly known as the Oval Office.
Well, it’s not my fault your electoral college nullified three million votes. I wish I could concoct a brutal and malignant system that perversely maddening.
So, yeah, you all are wasting your time over there, and I refuse to engage with such bad-faith actors. When you’re ready to end this charade and admit that I am the once and future Dominator-in-Chief, then we can get back down to brass tacks. As I said, I’ve got nothing to hide, anyway, so stop chasing these obviously pointless dead-end — be it in the Black Book of Horror Filthe, the Summonings and Banishments of the Foul Oldyn Ones, or Off-Shore Escrow Fund Accounting Logs.