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.
Endless, Inescapable American Carnage: It Is What It Is.
Welp, pretty normal day, honestly. Of course, lately “normal” means “a complete and total failure of government has left the United States utterly paralyzed before a pandemic much of the rest of the world has contained, also there’s a debate about whether or not to get a bunch of children killed,” so y’know…context is everything, really.
In an attempt to address his relative weakness with younger voters, Smilin’ Joe Biden hacked Lil’ Donnie-Two Scoops’ Twitter account and threatened to ban TikTok, a move sure to increase youth turnout this Novem-wait, what? He actually said it himself? Out loud? That Trump boy doesn’t have a lick of sense.
So, word on the street is, the Republican National Convention might be closed to the press, leaving America to wonder whether this is another example of the GOP’s slide into speech-crushing fascism, or just a handful of event planners trying to keep the Herman Cain count down this time. I say, why’s it gotta be “or?”
Tantalizing new filings out of the Manhattan district attorney’s office suggest a certain Grand Wizard Grifter is under investigation for even biglier crimes than we initially thought, including bank and insurance fraud, and if somebody could get Nate Silver to work up a model projecting the odds that my dearest wish is someday granted, meaning America actually gets to watch this sphincter-mouthed Nazi pig die in prison, I’d be eternally grateful. Ok, I’d be grateful for a day or two, but you’d probably get a six-pack out of it, anyway.
You could be forgiven for losing track of precisely which sorts of mail-in voting are dastardly antifa assaults on our very way of life and which are the pride and joy of every patriotic ‘Murican. One minute Strawberry Shartcake balls up his tiny, inadequate fists and whines about the new Nevada law which will automatically send a mail-in ballot to every voter, the next he’s begging his dwindling base of Florida Men to pretty please vote by mail, because what’s bad in Nevada is awesome in Florida for Reasons Which Definitely Exist. This apparent hypocrisy bothers the president nearly as much as the coronavirus death toll, which is to say not at all.
Merritt Corrigan is confused. The whole reason she was invited to join the Turdmaggot Administration in the first place, despite her glaring lack of qualifications, is that it’s a white supremacist hate cult, full of mediocre bigots like herself, and now she’s been fired for hate speech? “Consistency is all I ask!” Corrigan bellowed, just kidding she tweeted a whole bunch of profoundly heinous shit and, of course, proclaimed herself The Real Victim. Bye, Merritt!
Hey, speaking of Th’Best People, President Crotchrot’s attempt to get some drooling loon called Anthony Tata confirmed to an important Pentagon gig fell apart when Tata’s penchant for tinfoil-hat deep state conspiracy theories and virulent Islamophobia got outed in the media. Unfortunately, because we’re in After Three Years in Office the One Thing I’ve Learned is How Slowly the Fucking Courts Work mode now, Shartboy deployed a little bureaucratic razzle-dazzle to bypass Senate confirmation and give the skeevy creep essentially the same job. The lame-duck days will just be crime for crime’s sake, running naked through the halls of the Smithsonian, defacing national treasures with ketchup and spray paint, feverishly screeching, “Made it Ma! Top of the world!” until he’s tackled by security.
Hey, have you filled out the census yet? I mention this because Team Treasonweasel suddenly decided to cut the Census Bureau’s field operations off a month earlier than planned, probably to give Stephen Miller more time to personally burn forms from urban zip codes. Seriously though, these evil fucks are doing their damndest to leave a big fat white supremacist stain in the fabric of American governance, one we won’t get a chance to wash out for ten long years. Don’t let ‘em get away with it. Fill out your dang census!
Look, if the ever-growing corpse mountain isn’t enough to convince you that a second Trump term is the worst idea since George Lazenby drinking New Coke, maybe you need to get strapped into a chair and forced, Clockwork Orange-style, to watch Tangerine Idi Amin’s new interview with Axios’ Jonathan Swan until you scream, “Holy fuck, this visibly deteriorating wad of tanning lotion and resentment isn’t fit to serve as a Walmart greeter MY GOD WHAT HAVE WE DONE?”
Yes, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot continues to express more empathy for a child sex trafficker than for the 160,000 killed by COVID-19, or their families, or any of the millions of Americans forced into unemployment by his murderous negligence. If you were to play video of his o-so-principled stand for Ghislaine Maxwell’s presumption of innocence alongside his “shit happens, I’m great” assessment of his coronavirus response at the Lincoln memorial, Honest Abe would double over and start puking blood-red marble.
The exchange on John Lewis exposed Gameshow Göring’s brokenness with a dramatist’s precision; how deeply, hopelessly warped do you have to be to distill that great life down to “he didn’t come to my inauguration?” I think we can lay to rest all those earnest arguments on the ethics of armchair psychiatric diagnosis, at least in this one extreme and extremely well-documented case; yes, the man is a narcissist, shit, I once found the myth of Narcissus implausibly allegorical, but now it hits me like kitchen-sink Arthur Miller realism.
Ugh. I guess we should talk about the bit with the charts. All the bad news is fake news, insisted the Marmalade Shartcannon, I assure you I’m one nasty nickname* away from taming the pandemic once and for all, and here are some carefully-tortured metrics I’d really like you trust over your own lying eyes. Like, how defective is the brain that believes a couple of Crayola-colored graphs will send the American people skipping back into restaurants and arenas, smiling from ear to ear as we take deep, joyous breaths, filling our lungs with the coronavirus which is Totally Under Control Trust Me? It’s like watching a child squinting his eyes super tight to prove he’s really asleep, only it’s less about staying up ten more minutes playing with your phone than getting human beings killed by the tens of thousands.
And yeah, the Dopey Dotard With Diminutive Digits can’t pronounce “Yosemite,” lacking familiarity, it seems, with both the national park and the cantankerous Bugs Bunny antagonist. This is a small story, yes, but the President of the United States should be able to pronounce “Yosemite.” The president should know, at the very least, the basic facts about the country that’re taught to every schoolchild (remotely, at least for now) and the president should like those things.
THE PRESIDENT SHOULD LIKE AMERICA! That’s what I’m reduced to screaming, alone in my apartment, as Election Day approaches. Strange days, Resisters…strange days.
Anyway, it’s President Obama’s birthday, and I hope he gets to celebrate his next one at Joe Biden’s new place, assuming they can ever get the smell of experimental hair tonic and overdone steak farts outta the joint.
Ok, that’s enough for now, I suppose. Guess I’ll get back to my mega-awesome life, trapped on my couch, waiting for either a vaccine or the peaceful transfer of power, whichever comes first. Wheeeeeeeeee.
*Crooked Covid? Nasty Nineteen? C’MON PEOPLE, THIS IS IMPORTANT!