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
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.
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.
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.
How Many Bill Barr Stories Does it Take to Ruin Valentine’s Day? Let’s Find Out!
I went to the store to pick up a Valentine for my beloved country, but they didn’t have one that said I Still Love You Even Though a Mush-Brained Fascist Has Been Shitting All Over You for Three Years, so I settled for a card with some orange cat professing to “love you more than lasagna,” whatever that means, but I got plenty of beer, too, so I’ll be okay. Let’s do the news.
At the rate we’re going, the history books are gonna come with a laugh track. Future generations will surely chuckle at this chapter in The Tragic But Somehow Darkly Hilarious Downfall of the United States of America, as they read, “The once-mighty nation took its next sudden, unexpected, and massive step towards totalitarianism, not in response to an energy crisis or a foreign invasion, but to keep a single, clownish, criminal named Roger Stone out of prison.”
Y’see, when prosecutors recommended a stiff sentence (well, stiff for a wealthy white dude, anyway, it’s not like he stole $40 from Wal-Mart or anything) on account of all those felonies Stone committed, the Candycorn Skidmark leapt into action, which was really strange to see, after all these years of never once lifting a finger to help anyone but himself. Suddenly a new, lighter, sentencing recommendation materialized out of air which smelled suspiciously of overcooked steak farts.
So the entire prosecutorial team quit the case in protest, with one leaving the Justice Department altogether, and the rule of law continued to shrivel up like a houseplant purchased by an over-optimistic college kid experimenting with responsibility. Watching the Manchurian Manchild’s gloating victory lap, as he proclaimed the “absolute right” to command DoJ as his own personal plaything was not my favorite moment of the still-young year; I definitely preferred the Super Bowl halftime show, and also that one time I ate some bad tuna and violently puked for five hours.
Trumpal corruption is hardly a one-way street, of course; while President Crotchrot works to get his buddy Rog out of that prison jumpsuit and back into suits he’s too white for, he’s simultaneously pushing the military to further punish, defame, and generally torment Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman for the ghastly crime of (checks notes) obeying a subpoena and telling the truth. Personally, I preferred the days when we praised folks like Vindman and shunned the likes of Eddie Gallagher, but I suppose honor is out and murderous bigotry is in, I don’t really keep up with the trends anymore.
It appears as though Jacket-Fearing Human Jockstrap Gym Jordan did shed some tears for the victims of the Ohio State sexual abuse scandal after all, assuming you take Gym’s view that the real victims weren’t so much “the people assaulted by a serial sexual abuser, enabled by countless coaches and administrators who knew what was going on but couldn’t be bothered to stop it,” but rather the cowardly Congresscreeps whose political careers would be threatened if word of their craven behavior ever got out. Anyway, fuck Gym Jordan, and fuck every single shitsack who votes for him.
Former Chief of Staff John Kelly took a little break from profiting off of his former boss’ concentration camps to finally criticize a handful of Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s blunders and crimes, years too late, and if you’re looking for a pat on the head, John-John, you can get in line behind Jim Comey, John Bolton, and Omarosa. I’m sure Cult45’d be happy to pelt you with turds while you wait. Aw, nobody’s on your side these days? Guess you should’ve taken one of the three or four million opportunities you had to take a stand back when it would’ve meant something.
And President Gas Station Urinal Cake is working to gut a scheduled pay raise for federal workers, citing a “national emergency” and/or some sort of alleged “serious economic conditions” as his excuse to fuck over millions of hard-working Americans. This super-serious, super-severe, economic emergency does not seem to be quite so pressing as to necessitate a cut in his weekly golf vacations, or the accompanying transfer of wealth from the U.S. Treasury to his own custom-tailored-for-those-wee-little-hands pockets, oddly enough.
Hey, another fun way the Turdmaggot Administration is choking the Constitution to death right in front of us is that thing where they keep stealing congressionally-appropriated funds from the military budget in order to finance the Big Stupid FailWall Nobody Wants. Sooooo…I dunno who needs to hear this, but if the Executive can respond to a budget passed the duly elected representatives of the people, and just go, “Aw, that’s adorable! Anyway, thanks for the money, we’re spending it however we fucking well feel like, ya wusses!” then we don’t really have separation of powers anymore, we have tyranny. Tyranny by a mouth-breathing dolt with a head full of used cat litter and hatred, which is an unusually undesirable form of tyranny.
Like a dirtbag hipster showing off that brand new, prefaded, Alf t-shirt at the local kombucha bar, Hairplug Himmler is struttin’ around town in those platform shoes the Senate GOP just gave him, you know, the ones that elevated him permanently above the law? Life’s certainly a whole lot easier now that the unshakable sycophancy of his pet caucus has been so firmly established; why, he doesn’t even need to bother committing his crimes in secret anymore! I mean, if you’re gonna unconstitutionally extort the great state of New York, why not do it right in public, on Twitter, in front of the whole world, so you can make Ben Sasse and Marco Rubio squirm a little in the process? Man, remember when we thought of the President as a public servant, rather than a petty gangster, weaponizing the powers of the executive branch for personal gain? We sure were chumps, huh?
Yes, it sure looks fun out there, at Bed Bath & Beyond the Reach of Consequences. You can unburden your conscience, and confess “I sure did send my creepy, incest-y, lawyer to Ukraine to dig up dirt on the Bidens,” but I suppose that would imply the existence of a conscience, so we’re probably dealing with more of a Taunting the Coppers scenario here. Shit, if the State of the Union had been a couple of weeks later, it might’ve been a giddy recitation of every crime Fat B*Bert has ever gotten away with, from knocking over little Susie Brubaker’s lemonade stand in second grade to colluding with Vladimir Putin to weaken and ultimately destroy the United States. (And Republicans STILL would’ve applauded every minute of it.)
Redactor General William Barr sat down for an interview with ABC, during which he proclaimed his incorruptible impartiality, vowing that no political influence would shake the Justice Department’s commitment to independence, no matter the pressure, no matter the length of the unhinged tweetstorm, not on Bill Barr’s watch, bah gawd! Anyway, for his second, contrasting, monologue, he tried a little Falstaff, but he didn’t really pull it off, cuz he’s got the jowls but not the chops, if you take my meaning. If that went over anybody’s head, it was an acting joke, because Bronco Billy is betting that America won’t demand an honest Attorney General so long as they’ve got somebody who plays one on TV.
Back in the real world, Barr continued dutifully doing Donnie Dotard’s dirty work, digging his grubby little fingers into not only the Stone case, but also Mike “the Turkish Delight” Flynn’s. There’s actually enough William Barr news this week to spoil the holiday, and indeed, the very concept of love, forever, so let’s all agree to just eat another layer of our Whitman’s Samplers and move on with our Valentine’s Day.
Susan Collins must be all, “I don’t understand why the President keeps on hacking away at the tree of liberty with that axe I gave him! I told him it was a decorative axe!”
Tragedy struck in QAnonLand, as Deep State Pizzagate Lizard King Andrew McCabe will not face charges for the TOTAL BULLSHIT reason that he didn’t committee any crimes, and not even a pan of Mrs. Barr’s famous lemon squares could convince the grand jury to charge him anyway, just as a lil’ ol’ favor; maybe the rule of law still has a fighting chance after all. So McCabe walks free, no word as yet on potential charges pending against Mrs. Miller*.
And now I see Tangerine Idi Amin is deploying elite ICE tactical units onto the streets of several sanctuary cities, and let me just say that this would be extremely unwelcome news even during a week that didn’t already feature numerous examples of Romero-style-zombie creeping authoritarianism transforming into 28-Days-Later-style-zombie sprinting authoritarianism, but in the current context it feels like a real WHAT THE LIVING FUCK IS HAPPENING TO MY BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY kind of moment.
Well, shit, it’s a (greeting-card-company-manufactured) holiday, so I can’t leave y’all without a little good news. How about we swing by North Dakota real quick, where Native American tribes overcame a particularly scuzzy GOP plot to disenfranchise them? Or how ‘bout the defeat of Medicaid work requirements in a federal appeals court? See? There’s always a little fancy mustard lyin’ around to spice up your shit sandwiches!
And that’s what I’ve got for ya, folks. Hmmmm…I’m so used to pimping my Kickstarter in this space, I don’t know what to say now that the Kickstarter has concluded. So, um…how’s the family? Seen any good movies lately? Uhhhh…yeah, look, I should get going, early day tomorrow and all that. We should have lunch. Soon. Really.
*You don’t get no Robert Altman jokes on Jake Tapper, is all I’m sayin’.