Another One Bites The Dust

The "President" accepted Scott Pruitt's resignation on the Fifth of July because of course he did.
The Former head of the Environmental Protection Agency had been on the watch list for quite some time, having spent the last several months as even money in the administration resignation pool. Not because he was rolling back regulations that had been effectively protecting the environment. Global warming wasn't a big concern for Scott. Undoing anything associated with the Obama administration was.
That and checking out the possibility of getting his wife hooked up with a business opportunity with Chick-Fil-A. Well, not so much Scott on that one but an aide that Scott sent out on an errand to see about getting Scott's wife a fast-food franchise. To have something to do while Scott was busy dismantling the environmental legacy of the guy who came before.
That, and staying busy spending the taxpayer's money in creative ways: First Class travel wherever he went, and finding reasons to travel back to Oklahoma whenever possible. Oh, and my personal favorite, instructing an aide to go out and rustle him up a used mattress from a Trump hotel. I am certain that the mattresses used at our "President's" string of "luxury" hotels are certainly worth checking out, but the whole notion of seeking out a used mattress from anywhere is pretty suspect. On a lot of levels. I suppose we can be relieved that he wasn't asking this public servant to drive around the neighborhood looking for old mattresses leaning up against phone poles. That would be icky.
No more icky than a head of the EPA getting a deal on a condo in Washington D.C. for fifty dollars a night. If you were going to shove a used mattress in a fifty dollar a night flop house, that would make sense, but this is also the guy who spent forty-three thousand dollars on a sound-proofed phone booth. We are left to surmise that whatever conversations taking place in that rather expensive phone booth must have had some rather secret conversations. About chicken sandwiches. And rooms to let. And used mattresses.
So bye, bye, Scott Pruitt. Good luck in whatever swamp you can find suitable lodging.