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 White Supremacist Terrorists Does it Take to Screw in a Light Bulb, and Other Hilarious Jokes
Jane, I have asked, repeatedly, to be let off this crazy thing. This whole The West Wing, Only Stupid and Awful gimmick has more than run its course, and I’d very much like to watch something else now. All I want is to change the channel, but I can’t find the fucking remote, and oh shit this is still real life, isn’t it?
Turns out the President who has to pay for sex also has to pay to turn out an audience for the Barnum-esque Come See Dementia Deterioration in Real Time exhibitions he calls “re-election rallies.” Yes, Shell Oil had to bribe its employees to sit through one of Strawberry Shartcake’s rambling rants, and, as the empty seats in New Hampshire last week prove, without such payoffs, he’s simply declining as a draw; by 2020 he’ll be opening for Night Ranger at state fairs.
Republicans on the Federal Election Commission blocked an investigation into allegations that Russia used the bloodthirsty death merchants over at the rapidly-imploding-and-ain’t-that-a-shame National Rifle Association to launder rubles for the benefit of the Treasonweasel Campaign back in 2016, because there are only two types of Republicans these days; robbers, and getaway drivers.
One of the big problems the NRA is facing these days is that all of their arguments are shit, and as such, they’re increasingly rejected by an American public that’s growing tired of living in fear of being massacred every time they go out in public. And since the old crap isn’t landing anymore, they’re reduced to belching up gonzo nonsense like, and this is a 100% real quote, not one of the ones I make up for laffs sometimes, “How do you tell a 10-year-old little girl who got a Ruger 10/22 with a pink stock for her birthday that her rifle is an assault weapon and she has to turn it over to government or be arrested for felony possession?”
Now, on the one hand, when your opponents are reduced to making “arugments” as farcical as that plateful of hot garbage, you’re definitely winning. On the other, think of how shamelessly insane you have to be to go, “I BOUGHT A FOURTH-GRADER A WEAPON OF WAR AND YOU’LL HAVE TO PRY IT OUT OF HER COLD DEAD HANDS?”
The emotionally stunted fascist manchild brigade known as the Proud Boys staged another of their trademark Rallies to Raise Awareness of the Sexual Inadequacies of the Proud Boys, but Portland police managed to keep them from getting into too much trouble this time. Naturally, Hairplug Himmler took these dorky little thugs’ side, hoping to stir up enough fear of the imaginary Antifa menace that nobody notices all the failure and regression and atrocity and whatnot.
Meanwhile, a scuzzy new trio of shitty white boys have been apprehended by law enforcement before they could fulfill their terrorist mass-shooting fantasies. Racist social media posts? Check. Arsenals suited to an Afghan battlefield? Check. Depressingly rapid normalization of Angry Young Man American terrorists? That’s a double-check, folks.
You look at the mugshots of these miles-below-average-on-the-best-day-of-their-life losers, or the gaggles of doughy basement-dwellers in Portland, and you can’t help but wonder just how they came to reject the evidence of Every Mirror in the World and somehow conclude they’re exemplars of the master race. Like, if Brad Pitt came out as a white supremacist, you’d be pissed, but then he’d take his shirt off, and you’d go “ok, I kinda get it, seriously, how the fuck are you 55 years old?” but you look at these dudes who’re like “what if soggy Captain Crunch was a person,” and you’re almost more confused than angry.
Probably more dangerous than even these heavily-armed scumfucks is Steven Menashi, Shart Garfunkel’s latest nominee to the federal judiciary, another choice specimen, with an equal-parts-horrifying-and-idiotic (horridiotic?) history of writings praising ethnonationalism. Really looking forward to a lifetime of this guy interpreting the Constitution for the rest of us, aren’t you? Anyway, big thanks to the third party voters out there, your “principled stance” just keeps on bearing fruit.
The weekend brought not one but two profiles of White Nationalist Tapeworm Stephen Miller, because if there’s a market for scat porn, I suppose there are folks who might want to spend their downtime exploring the Lifestyles of the Detestable and Subpar. With all due respect to the Washington Post and the New York Times, I think I already had this one covered.
The big picture, as far as Miller is concerned, is that a man with an poorly maintained litter box for a soul shouldn’t be given power over a Sunglass Hut, let alone America’s immigration policy. Never have I seen a person so passionately focused on harming and terrorizing other human beings. The little shitmaggot worked, for MONTHS, on a plan to keep undocumented children out of public schools, only to be thwarted by that Constitution he hates so much. But as long as he’s in the Shart House, he’s never going to stop looking for new ways to wield the awesome power of the federal government to hurt brown people, especially children.
And don’t forget young Stephen has a new study buddy in Ken Cuccinelli, someone to go on field trips to spray-paint ethnic slurs on the State of Liberty with, someone to banter over the finer points of Mein Kampf while the Klan robes go through the dryer at the laundromat. CNN tells us the Cooch has belonged to a crazed, anti-immigrant, hate group since 2007, so I’m sure the two hateful little twerps never run out of vile shit to talk about, like Mean Girls, only they’re boys, older, and also Nazis.
Somehow, in the midst of this epidemic of racist fuckery n’ terror, the OG Congressional White Nationalist, Steve King, is demanding an apology, cuz he insists there’s some sort of magical “context” where his creepy “y’know what gets a bad rap? RAPE AND INCEST, THAT’S WHAT” comments were anything other than the mouth-turds of a demented jackass. You go ahead and hold your breath on that one, Steve-O.
Hey look, we’ve finally got a story that isn’t about a white supremacist trying to hurt and/or kill people! Wow, it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Anyway, the economy is about to blow up.
Ah, but what better way to calm the markets than to pump Shambling Cretin Larry Kudlow full of scotch and drop him off on the Sunday Shoz? Larry says everything’s just peachy keen, there certainly isn’t a recession hiding under the President’s bed with all those crusty photos of Ivanka, but then the hosts reminded him he said the exact same fucking thing in 2007, because he’s a moron who’s always wrong about everything. Well, maybe not everything. Maybe he’s really good at like, pairing craft beers with tapas, but at economics, yeah, he’s basically Beavis, which is regrettable, considering he’s Littlefinger’s CHIEF MOTHERFUCKING ECONOMIC ADVISOR.
And this initially feels like a fun little Hah Hah You Doofus moment, until you realize that doddering old twit walks away from that interview and goes back to work, whispering nonsense directly into the Rube-in-Chief’s ears, and while the rest of us might enjoy a snicker at his expense, we also have to live with the consequences of his suddenly-much-less-amusing economic misconceptions.
Hot off the mind-boggling imbecility of the Let’s Buy Greenland gambit, word is the Velveeta Vulgarian wants to run a full naval blockade of Venezuela, I guess because the people there aren’t starving hard enough for his liking. I’m worried that the rule of threes might just dictate that there’s one more of these stories out there, like maybe he’s ordered John Bolton to draw up a plan to saw the Baja California Peninsula off the continent and then steal it when it floats away.
Donnie Two-Scoops conducts foreign policy like a second grade-boy jacked up on Mountain Dew and Chuckles, and it’s a testament to military discipline that the Joint Chiefs don’t have him carted away when he starts jabbering about running a naval blockade on a nation with 1,740 miles of coastline, also surely insisting that each American ship be equipped with this totally badass mega-robot that’s also a ninja, and maybe you could make it a sex doll, too, just for efficiency’s sake.
Unsatisfied with his already-impressive collection of flaws and shortcomings, Tangerine Idi Amin has decided to expand into an exciting new realm of personal deficiency: raving paranoia! It’s like looking at a sandwich made of pubic hair, broken glass, and used bandaids, and saying to yourself, “this would be REALLY good if I pissed on it.”
See, signs of imminent recession are multiplying like tribbles, and with his known allergy to taking responsibility for his failures (“Mulvaney! Who keeps filling up my adult diapers with poo?”), Fat Q*bert has decided that the whole thing is one giant conspiracy to deny his re-election. The media is in on it, y’see, because they keep reporting the objective truth about all the ways his curdled-yogurt-brained trade war is crotch-punting the American economy, rather than dutifully presenting his preferred narrative, that everyone is bored with money now because they have so much of it.
Even the once-loyal propagandists of Fux Nooz are in it, as demonstrated by their recent poll showing Weehands McNodick getting his begolfpantsed ass handed to him in 2020 by every Democrat from Biden to Warren to a worn-out I’m With Her t-shirt. Giving multiple white nationalists prime-time hate speech extravaganzas is no longer enough; reality must be bent to conform to the Turd Emperor’s wishes, dagnabbit!
There totally is a conspiracy to wreck the economy and elect a Democrat in 2020, by the way. It’s between Donald Trump and the craven enablers who keep letting him do all this stupid shit that everybody hates. The call is coming from inside the house, you blithering simpletons.
And like that one Uncle back home who went from sending you chain letters about the Clinton Murder Machine back in college to using numerology to decipher QAnon posts, the Candycorn Skidmark wasted no time at all in discovering even bat-shittier conspiracy theories to spread FROM HIS PULPIT AS FUCKING PRESIDENT OF THE FUCKING UNITED STATES, and now he’s babbling something about Google changing millions of votes with alien mind worms or some shit, who knows what goes on in that Adderall-and-experimental-hair-tonic-ruined brain? Anyway, I figure we’re only a few months away from the old fart going full Harry Caul, ripping up the carpet in the Oval Office in search of the little elves he’s certain Obama left behind to spy on him.
After five years, the NYPD officer who killed Eric Garner has been fired, and while it’s wonderful that he won’t be patrolling the streets anymore, in a few years we’ll stumble across an article somewhere, detailing just how much money he’ll have made on the extremely lucrative conservative victimhood media circuit, and on that day, we will all need a fucking DRINK.
And the Shart Administration “succeeded” in pushing Planned Parenthood out of the Title X program, over a new rule that bans providers from referring women for abortions, because we can’t have people understanding their constitutional rights, now can we? And if a few million people had to lose access to healthcare to give Drumpfy’s dirtbag fake Christian base another handjob, well, so be it.
But hey, at least the rat finks down in Georgia will have a harder time stealing elections going forward, as a federal judge ordered the state to switch to paper ballots by 2020. So the news isn’t all bad. Hell, considering we got to the terrorist white boys before they could kill anybody this time, it’s practically an MGM musical up in here. Cue the kick line and confetti.
I don’t actually have a punchline to the white supremacist light bulb joke, by the way, I just needed a title. You can’t trust anybody these days, not even a bloviating nutcase in a mask and a bathrobe.