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.
Cap’s Back! Did I Miss Anything? Is Shit Still Cray? Do You Have the Coronavirus Yet?
Well, as y’all know, I had to step away from the ol’ blog for a few days, due to personal life concerns that swung from the life-changingly awesome to the heartbreakingly tragic. I’m back now, and as expected, my metaphorical desk is all but invisible beneath a ten-ton pile of rhinoceros shit, so grab a shovel and help me dig it out, wouldja?
So I guess the Shart House has been workin’ up a “deep state hit list,” of the insufficiently bow-y and scrape-y, led by absolutely batshit right-wing activist Ginni Thomas, seeking to replace competent, experienced, career officials with spittle-drenched maniacs like David Clarke and Dan Bongino. I suppose ideally, you’d like both ability and loyalty, but when your movement is based on white resentment and know-nothingism, I imagine the resumes get a little thin, which is why they’re now staffing the executive branch with college kids.
Ah, and I see the Emperor of Herpes has demanded that Sonia Sotomayor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg recuse themselves from any SCOTUS cases involving his many autocratic assaults on the rule of law, because once upon a time, they were mean to him. Heh. Well, as my Daddy would say, “demand in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up faster.”
The big news, of course, has been the coronavirus, as the country has been forced to come to terms with the fact that President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster is infinitely less concerned about the mounting body count than with his precious, Rasmussen-inflated, approval ratings. Even last week’s massive stock market plunge is not processed as billions in wealth wiped out, or jobs lost, or retirements ruined, but as part of a vast global conspiracy to deny him the love he’s been desperately seeking since his father sent him to military school.
I confess, my money had been on Surprise Canadian Invasion, but I really should have considered the possibility of Narcissism Trumping Science, Readiness, and Basic Goddamn Common Sense During Global Pandemic as the great and inevitable Dotard fuckup that threatens all American lives.
We are well beyond the looking glass now, folks. We’ve motored past the nice parts of Shitty Wonderland, and we’re stumbling around the slums populated by the demonic hallucinations from Every Bad Trip Since Woodstock. We’re talking about the dipshits that’ve already tried to slash the funding and purge the expertise necessary to combat this threat, who’re now muzzling the remaining experts simply to placate the Manchurian Manchild’s frail ego. And it’s going to get people killed, as surely as if you’d wandered around medieval Europe littering the ground with rat treats.
The presidential fuckin’ pulpit, used to trumpet the message that a potentially deadly disease sweeping across the globe is a “hoax?” That the news media, in reporting critical information to the public, is somehow exaggerating the facts to harm him politically? Fuck, y’all, this isn’t just impeachment territory, it’s tackle-the-senile-old-fuck-and-lock-him-a-closet time. This isn’t lying about crowd size, folks, it’s much more dangerous.
I also see the Die Plebs Die Administration is trying to divert funding from programs that heat low-income Americans’ homes during winter to pay for the response to the very outbreak they’re assisting with denials and disinformation, and even resisting calls to make the eventual vaccine affordable. Folks, if we don’t beat these rat bastards this November, we’ll be battling gladiator-style in the arena for aspirin and cough syrup by 2023.
Yes, it turns out that a well-known sociopath makes for a less-than-ideal steward during a time of crisis, who’d have guessed? And, like, I understand that the GOP has devolved into a frothy cult of personality, and its elected officials live in perpetual trembling fear of being targeted by a nasty tweet (why anyone would want to be represented by such cowards escapes me, but that’s a topic for another day), but surely these clowns understand on some level that you can’t sweep a communicable fucking disease under the rug. You can muddy the waters with disinformation about Russian interference or the Ukraine scandal, but you can’t gaslight a person into believing they don’t have a disease once they catch it. Ok, maybe with a handful of Cult45ers you could, but until shitty red ball caps can cure this thing, you have to deal with the real world.
And friends, if I’m one of the poor bastards who winds up dying because this asshat believes he can lie his way out of global contagion, I am haunting the absolute shit out of him. I’m gonna be a goddamn poltergeist. If this blog suddenly disappears without warning, and you start seeing stories about Hairplug Himmler getting pelted with cat turds seemingly flung by an unseen hand, know that I am living my best afterlife.
Vice President Mike Pants, one of the rare American politicians to literally preside over an outbreak exacerbated by his own incompetence and hostility to basic science, has been appointed to head up the coronavirus response, because fucking of course he has. It’s like gutting your fire department, and, in the midst of a raging conflagration, looking to Mrs. O’Leary’s cow for guidance.
Mikey Hairshirt is taking his duties so seriously that he went on the Sunday Shoz to claim that Democrats are rooting for the virus to kill millions of Americans, because god knows stirring up division and hatred is more important than solving a problem worsened by your own blithering incompetence. Anyway, we should probably cancel that “Go Coronavirus Go” routine we worked out with the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, just to be on the safe side.
If I were looking to invent something truly absurd about the Marmalade Shartcannon’s actions during the coronavirus crisis, I probably couldn’t do any better than “rather than coordinating the emergency response, the President of the United States met with d-list actors Dean Cain and Kristy Swanson to snicker about their trolly little wingnut stage play about Peter Strzok and Lisa Page,” and I must grudgingly admit I have been out-satired by reality yet again.
Anyway, I’m prouder than ever to be a Democrat, now that PROTECTING THE POPULACE FROM CONTAGIOUS DISEASES is apparently partisan. And I hope you’ll call your Congressfolk to pressure them to support my bill, which would mandate that the 52 craven Republican Enablers/Senators who kept this cud-brained psychopath in office in spite of the mountain of evidence of his unconstitutional crimes be sent to serve as nursing assistants in hospitals treating coronavirus patients.
Speaking of health issues, we learned that Dr. Ronny Jackson took time out of his busy schedule as an opioid Pez dispenser to sneak vegetables into his hamberder-gorging boss’ mashed potatoes, in an attempt to deceive him into eating healthier. Sources tell me carrots cut up into super-fun dinosaur shapes were also attempted, only to be rejected with a swat of those tiny, inadequate, hands.
The Treasonweasel Campaign announced a lawsuit against the New York Times, alleging libel, over an op-ed published in March, 2019. Terrifying play for anti-American authoritarianism, destined for humiliating failure in the courts? The Trump brand is, if nothing else, consistent, I’ll give them that.
There’s certainly been a lotta winnowing in the Democratic presidential primary since we last spoke, though I see Tulsi Gabbard is still hanging around, like a rash you probably shoulda gotten looked at by now. Just on a personal note, I’d like to thank Tom Steyer’s majestical whiteguy dancing to Back That Azz Up during a rally in South Carolina for providing literally the only smile I could muster on one of my life’s shittiest days.
And in Afghanistan, the Shart of the Deal demonstrated the keen negotiating prowess he is famous for, deftly conceding to every demand the Taliban had ever dreamed of, throwing in a waffle iron and year’s subscription to Better Homes and Gardens for good measure, in exchange for…fuck, I can’t even tell, presumably a series of ego-stroking personal compliments and a locally-crafted map of the 2016 Electoral College results, using traditional Pashtun techniques and materials. Naturally, the agreement is already in jeopardy, but Weehands McNodick is now an early frontrunner for the Nobel Capitulation Prize, which is exciting.
A federal judge ruled that Snarling Haterodent Ken Cuccinelli illegally immigrated to his post as acting U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services director, and therefore all policies he’s implemented are null and void, in addition to being shitty and racist, which we already knew. While it is always delightful to watch bad things happen to people as terrible as The KKKooch, let me propose that he has yet to get anything resembling what he actually deserves, and would not unless he were to, say, accidentally trap himself in a long-forgotten septic tank.
(I see now that Kenny is refusing to obey the court and vacate his post, which is…awfully fascist of him, and if anybody can actually make that septic tank thing happen, now’s the time.)
In maybe the weirdest coincidence in all of human history, the long-ago debunked overflowing-bucket-of-horseshit Hunter Biden/Burisma conspiracy theory, which had vanished from headlines the world o’er, made a stunning return following Joe Biden’s comeback victory in the South Carolina primary. I mean, what’re the odds, right? Anyway, I’m a cat guy at heart, but if I ever got a dog, I’d hope it could one day become as well-trained as Senator Ron Johnson.
Well, the All-New, Drunken-Preppy-Infused, Supreme Court will be hearing the latest ridiculous challenge to the Affordable Care Act, and while it would be incredibly cool to live in a world where we could all rest easy in the knowledge that such a patently absurd, obviously bad-faith, nutjob “lawsuit” would be laughed out of court by a sensible, honest, bipartisan, bench, we are instead trapped here in an apocalyptic hellscape where shameless partisan hacks like Brett Kavanaugh and Neil Gorsuch get to decide whether or not the members of the serf class really count as fully human and therefore deserving of rights n’ life n’ health n’ shit. Can’t say I’m a fan.
Tonight’s post is, obviously, dedicated to my dearly-departed feline secretary, my small grey friend, Kitty. Over the years, she disrupted many a blog, in search of lap time and head scratches, but writing this first one without her just wasn’t the same. Thank you all for bearing with me during this difficult time. I haven’t yet had time to read all the messages of love and support y’all sent, but I’m totally bowled over by your kindness. Again, thank you.
Anyway, I’m quite certain I’ve missed a number of stories, great and small, but let’s just wink and pretend we’re more or less caught up now, and get back on schedule going forward. Thank you for your patience.