"Wait...Keith Olbermann still has a career in political commentary?" is what you're thinking, given Olbermann's penchant for squawking unabated at a camera. Rivaled only by half-dead frogs. Croaking in their final attempts to be noticed. The head douche-burrito in charge hasn't been "relevant" since 2009. He's since recorded jibber-filled rants in his basement. His backdrop nothing but a sad piece of pink construction paper. Likely stolen from a special school for gender confused imps.

Maybe they can get their paper back:

I am confident now, even more so than I have been over the last year that this nightmare presidency of Donald John Trump will end prematurely and end soon, and I am thus also confident that this is the correct moment to end this series of commentaries…

No illness, no scandal, no firing, just I’ve said what I’ve had to say...I am retiring from political commentary in all media venues.

Shorter Olbermann: People no longer want to hear the noises emanating from my face hole. Which have all the intellectual value of hand-in-arm pit flap farts. Ergo I'm signing off before people can mock me any further. On the orders from my astrologist. Gotta give room to the other worms at GQ (GQ Picks Colin Kaepernick for 2017 Citizen of the Year and Owen Benjamin Reminds Us Who Passes for a GQ Cover).

We'll miss Olbermann. Not the way a family member misses a loved one. Or a pet. No, we'll miss Olbermann the same way a traffic cop misses an early morning drunk. Something fulfilling about busting such wanton, dangerous foolishness.

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