Mike Pence is the Patron Saint of Mediocre White Dudes, and the Roman God of Failing Upwards.
A Democrat in his youth, Pence, like many men of limited intelligence, turned to religious conservatism for the convenience of being able to end arguments by claiming God shares his every fear and prejudice, while forgiving his every shortcoming, how convenient.
Secretary of State
Mike Pompeo is one of those performatively pious fake Christians who loves using his loudly-claimed-but-seldom-followed faith like a cudgel while ignoring every single word of the actual Bible, including “and” and “the.”
Secretary of State
Over the course of three decades, Rex Tillerson fucked, bribed, and murdered his way to the top of Exxon Mobil, like some sort of jowlsy Eva Peron.
William Barr actually taught me a valuable lesson. See, I didn’t look too closely at Bill when he was nominated to be Attorney General. After Jeff “Too Racist for the 80’s” Sessions and the masculine toilet guy, honestly, he looked like a nice, refreshing, safe, traditional Republican. An institutionalist who could bring a little much-needed stability.
And then he turned out to be a fascist, and one of the most dangerous enemies of democracy in American history. Whoops. My bad.
Secretary of the Treasury
Steve Mnuchin, like his namesake, the Noise You Make When You’re Dry Heaving After Getting Food Poisoning From Eating Truck Stop Gas Station Roller Hot Pockets on a Road Trip, is deeply unpleasant, and may result in the involuntary voiding of foul-smelling bodily fluids.
Secretary of Defense
Chief of Staff
National Security Advisor
Holy shit, there are Generals all over the place these days, aren’t there?
Retired General James Mattis serves as Secretary of Defense. Retired General John Kelly ran Homeland Security for a bit, before becoming the Lead Executive Branch Babysitter, excuse me, Chief of Staff. H.R. McMaster’s the National Security Advisor, and hell, he’s still on active duty.
Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, third generation of his family to carry the name of a Confedarate piece of trash and also a second Confederate piece of trash, is living his dream. As Velveeta Goebbels’ Attorney General, he’s turning back the clock to a time when women and minorities knew their place, and mediocre white dudes like himself got to run everything, even if they weren’t especially bright.
Ryan Zinke is like if the crappiest robot in Westworld escaped and jumped into conservative politics. He’s such a cartoon cowboy, I bet his right boot says “Andy” on the bottom.
Secretary of Commerce
When a witch’s curse transformed his master into a Beast and his fellow servants into household objects, Wilbur Ross became a decorative garden gnome. Unlike the rest of his compatriots, he ventured out into the world to make his fortune in the realm of shady international finance and money laundering, and when True Love’s Kiss lifted the curse, Wilbur was too far away for the enchantment to reverse, and thus he remains trapped in gnome form forever.
Secretary of Health and Human Services
If the Hippocratic Oath is binding in any sort of spiritual sense, Tom Price is royally fucked, y’all. There is some straight Dante shit awaitin’ him in the afterlife.
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Dr. Ben Carson is only in politics because he was rude President Obama to his face. At the 2013 National Prayer Breakfast, a traditionally non-political event, Dr. Ben, having been invited as the keynote speaker, decided to use his time to shit on the President and his policies.
Secretary of Education
Betsy DeVos is what happens when bored white ladies have enough money to really fuck shit up. Turns out, if you’re born rich and marry richer, you don’t have to settle for a book club, you can buy yourself a whole cabinet department!
Administrator of the EPA
Scott Pruitt, like a lot of boys his age, grew up watching Captain Planet cartoons. Unlike most boys his age, he decided that the various sludge-smog-and-toxic-waste-slinging villains were the role models for him.
Ok, fine. Pruitt is ten years too old to have grown up on Captain Planet, but fuck you, that’s a good opening paragraph. Make your own fucking website, you don’t like it.
Chief of Staff
Nobody wants to be Reince Priebus when they grow up. He’s just so immediately recognizable as a weaselly little tapeworm of a man, y’know?
Reince Priebus is the sort of person who would be played by Brad Dourif in a film.
Steve Bannon played Bob Ewell in a high school production of To Kill a Mockingbird, and liked it so much he decided to stay in the character for the rest of his life.
A self-described Leninist, and an outspoken populist*, Bannon wants to kidney-punch the administrative state, give it a wedgie, and steal its lunch money.
Jared Kushner was born on third base and thinks he invented baseball.
Jared’s dad, Charles Kushner, went to jail for tax evasion, illegal campaign donations, and, ahem, “witness tampering,” by which I mean he set his brother-in-law up with a hooker (not, I’m sad to report, of the Pissing Russian variety) and recorded their genital-smushing in order to blackmail him.
Daddy’s Little Girl
Ivanka Trump is what happens when you cross Gwyneth Paltrow with Mussolini’s dumbest, laziest aide-de-camp. Watching her try to sell her father’s fascism as some sort of pro-woman lifestyle brand, marketed in the sickliest imaginable shade of pink, has been one of the most bizarre subplots of this nightmare we can’t seem to pinch ourselves out of.
So, while Melania Trump is perhaps not as shitty as many of the crooks, Nazis, and Nazi crooks who inhabit her dirtbag husband’s world, she manages to impressively shitty in her own right.
When you worked for Akin, things weren’t simple
Cuz he got caught on tape
With legitimate rape
Senior Advisor for Policy
Why is it always the shittiest imaginable white dudes who turn out to be white supremacists?
Stephen Miller, who started balding eleven seconds after his conception, has by all accounts been a sack of monkey shit pretty much every single minute of his life.
Director of Communications
Oh wow, this new Communications Director looks like a real character, huh?
Where to begin? Ok, Anthony Scaramucci first came to –
Wait, what? Really?
White Supremacist Multi-Tool
Kris Kobach is like the protagonist of the white supremacist version of one of those Disney movies where a kid learns to chase his dreams, no matter how big. The kid gets tired of the monotonous grind of burning crosses on just one lawn at a time, and dreams of burning a cross big enough for the whole dang country!
Maybe he has a talking/singing Confederate flag for a sidekick. Named “Bedford.”
Roving Freelance Fascist
As seen in the famed documentary RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, when the Ark of the Covenant was opened on an uncharted island north of Crete, the burning light that issued thereof reduced the Nazi soldiers present to piles of ash and molten flesh. In time, the rains washed the fascist bio-goo into the island’s sewage system, where it mixed with the shit and piss and used tampons and such, and in time it congealed, took the shape of a man (albeit an unattractive one), slapped on a pair of glasses, and Sebastian Gorka was formed.
Speaker of the House
Paul Ryan was cloned from a single pubic hair plucked from Ayn Rand post-coitus and grown in a still in Charles Koch’s back yard.
Senate Majority Leader
Many years ago, Gamera was following the Grateful Dead on tour, and engaged in a brief-but-life-affirming affair with an Ohio River ‘gator that hung around Ma McConnell’s pig farm, picking off runts for sustenance. Nine months later, young Mitch emerged from a leathery egg, and devoured his fellow hatchlings, beginning his life-long love affair with hurting children.
Susan Collins is How It Happens Here, folks.
She’s supposed to be the rational centrist. The one who stands up to the increasingly-rabid gaggle of turd-spewing hyenas known as the Republican Party when they go too far. That’s whole point of Susan Collins. It’s the brand she’s been selling the people of Maine for years.
Anybody wondering if the GOP is still the party of Lincoln gets their answer whenever they take in James Daniel Jordan’s tension-racked, jacketless frame as he does his “indignant soccer dad demands to see a manager” routine during a committee hearing. Lincoln? That ship has sailed, caught fire, sunk, and been overrun by sea slugs and the ghosts of unusually shitty pirates. Sorry.
Official Sponsors of American Fascism
Chuck and Davey Koch decided that popping out of a rich lady’s vagina gave them the right to reshape the world however they saw fit, hurting whoever they wanted to in the process, and since the fundamental driving impulse of your average Republican politician is to sell out to the highest bidder, they haven’t exactly been proven wrong.
All This Creeping Normalcy, It’s Like We’re Still in Hell, But There’s Cake Now
While it’s certainly better than Hell, I confess I have yet to find my footing in our current Limbo. Like, we finally shut the malfunctioning thrill ride down after four long years, and it’s certainly nice not to be flung through the air at a hundred miles per hour every minute of every day, but the restraint bar is still in place, and frankly, I need to pee.
We’re in for an incomprehensible Thanksgiving, as a political movement gone mad charges naked into battle with inescapable reality. We rational, responsible types can only watch from isolation as these feverishly insane people spread their death in the name of Whatever Tucker Carlson Told Them to Be Mad About This Week.
I’ve lost track of precisely which Shart House coronavirus outbreak swept Ben Carson off to the hospital, but thanks to cutting edge medical treatments available to him as a leading capo in the Trump Family Crime Syndicate, he pulled through. Of course, this level of care is hardly accessible to you serfs or your filthy taker families, though you are certainly welcome to form orderly lines outside your communities’ overflowing hospitals.
In fact, here’s a helpful Shower Cap Holiday Hack for ya: save time this Thanksgiving by heading directly from the food bank queue to the hospital queue! Getcherself a little hot plate that plugs into the cigarette lighter in your car; by the time the turkey heats up, you’ll be in prime position to snag the next available ventilator!
Historians will remember the last few days as the most gratifying in American history, as Tangerine Idi Amin’s dreams of finding a bunch of judges willing to end democracy for him deteriorated into a viscous blob of failure, public humiliation, and whatever was leaking out of Rudy Giuliani the other day.
Oddly enough, Trenchmouth McCousinfucker’s literal/figurative meltdown in Pennsylvania ultimately yielded little beyond an atomic wedgie delivered in blistering legalese, which is almost a shame, since he won’t be able to comprehend a word of it.
As his kakistocrat clowncar coup went down in flames, Donnie Dotard finally noticed he’d hired a team of defective One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest action figures to represent him in court. “They’re making me look bad!” he whinged, before retweeting a 172-minute-long video of James Woods reciting Anders Breivik’s manifesto.
His assessment, for once, isn’t wrong; Sidney Powell’s recent behavior has been extremely…well, “Sidney Powell-like” is the only term that comes to mind. So when she dropped her ultra-helpful DOUG COLLINS WUZ ROBBED BY THE DEEP STATE AND ALSO JEWS take smack dab in the middle of the crucial Georgia Senate runoffs, I mean, you’re the one who loves the scorpion story so much, bro. Sidney Powell is a machine that haphazardly spews toxic sludge; I don’t know why you’d turn it on in the first place, but you certainly don’t get to complain now that the carpet’s ruined.
At least these desperate, comical attempts to (lest we forget) overturn the 2020 election provided a steady supply of procedural milestones to celebrate. Yet another doomed lawsuit, filed in crayon on official Four Seasons Total Landscaping stationery*, laughed out of court? Michigan officially certifying their results, dashing the wacky plans of an underdog wannabe autocrat with a crazy dream of a world where Black folks’ votes don’t get counted? It’s like winning the election all over again, every time, and we fucking well deserve it.
It’s been a long, shitty year, and if I get to pop another bottle of champagne every time an election clerk in Philadelphia gets back from their lunch break, I am absolutely taking advantage of that opportunity. I say mythologize all this shit; going forward, every day in November is holy for one reason or another; we’ll write carols and make advent calendars.
Meanwhile, Joe Biden’s aggressively normcore politics continue their slow, steady infiltration of our news cycle, like a light breeze smelling of nothing in particular. With each individual appointment, and the accompanying resumé overflowing with expertise, excellence, and commitment to public service, rather than the “Nominee X initially drew the President‘s attention by smearing swastikas on the front door of a local elementary school in his own filth” stories we’ve grown accustomed to, I feel like Andy Dufresne emerging into the rain.
Well, stop the dang presses, Emily W. Murphy finally decided to do her goddamn job. Somewhere around the 8th or 9th confirmation of Joe Biden’s landslide victory, America’s breakout bureaucratic irritant, the Orwell It Girl herself, finally acquiesced to the overwhelming will of the electorate and permitted the transition to begin. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get your footnote in the history books, you giddy little goose-stepper.
Yes, the transition of power will be peaceful, if pissy. Between Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag’s bold experiments with sabotage-by-accounting and Mike Pompeo’s petulant plot to smash the nation’s toys rather than let his successors rejoin the Open Skies Treaty, it seems as though McConnellism is swiftly evolving from mere obstruction to active vandalism, and it would be really awesome if the Republican Party could stop viewing the majority of the American people as mortal enemies.
You may’ve missed it, but Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops finally crept out of his bunker for the first time in days, pathetically seeking to take credit for the stock market surge that occurred as a direct result of his overdue submission to reality. Didja see it? It didn’t last long. He’s living the narcissist’s nightmare right now; he lives for the spotlight, but he can’t bear it any longer, for it illuminates a loser.
…and then he has to waddle back out for the goddamn turkey pardoning! Like a forgotten sitcom star cutting the ribbon at a Fuddruckers opening! Shoot it straight into my fucking eyeballs; this evil fuck is finally falling out of the dignity tree and hitting every single branch on the way down and it is truly magnificent to behold.
Like, sneaking out of the G20 to sulk on the golf course because you just know he was paranoid all the other leaders were talking about what a loser he is, in all their fancy high-falutin’ foreign languages? I’ve been waiting a long time for this schadenfreude, and now that it’s here, nectar and ambrosia ain’t shit.
Heads up, with the long holiday weekend, this is likely the last time you’ll hear from me until next week. I expect less news than we’ve seen since the bygone normalcy of 2014, for which I’ll give thanks until I have no more thanks to give. I hope you and your loved ones are navigating this warped holiday season safely and sanely. See y’all soon.
*This is a big moment in Shower Cap’s Blog history, the first time I spelled this word correctly.
(I feel like I should clarify the Woods/Breivik thing was just a gag. It isn’t real. Yet.)