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.
Introducing Shower Cap’s 2018 Midterms Countdown Advent Calendar!
Hey folks, slow news day with the “holiday,” so I’m doing something a little different tonight. Since we’re in the home stretch before our long-awaited opportunity to fire a bunch of complicit GOP assclowns in the 2018 midterms, I figured I’d put together a little somethin’ to help y’all pass the time.
So here it is, the Last Month Before the 2018 (Goddamn) Midterms Countdown Advent Calendar! A month’s worth of little doors, each featuring a different GOP jagoff, each concealing a unique treat! O how festive!
(Okay, it’s a little late, because I only just had the idea. Fuckin’ sue me.)
Adorning the First wee door is departing House Speaker Paul Ryan! Trembling with anticipation, you pry it open, discovering a single flavorless oyster cracker, because CANDY IS FOR JOB CREATORS, YOU FILTHY TAKER.
Day Two features Ancient Utah Senator Orrin Hatch, and you get a piece of Bazooka Joe gum; hard, old, and useless, you don’t understand why anybody keeps this shit around anymore.
Up Third is Chuck Grassley; a piece of used chewing gum, all but fossilized, covered in a dozen layers of dust, like it’s been under Grandma’s dresser since the 1980’s.
We’re still not done with practically-decomposing Judiciary Committee Senators, so here’s Day Four: Louisiana’s John Kennedy. It’s a Werther’s Original with a few tiny slivers of broken glass protruding from it.
Day Five brings Ted Cruz…there’s a candy chew shaped exactly like his punchable face; no one can describe the flavor because everybody just smashes it to oblivion the moment they see it.
Next up, your Sixth door depicts Nebraska Senator Ben Sasse! There’s nothing behind it except a gust of hot air that leaves the smell of egg farts lingering in the room for hours.
Treat number Seven hides behind a picture of Lindsey Graham, his face twisted in indignant faux rage! You get a little packet of cat piss flavored pop rocks that spark and jump and instantaneously give you tongue cancer.
Day Eight offers a milk chocolate likeness of Arizona Senator Jeff Flake. Of course the figure is completely hollow, and the candy shell is so thin it crumbles to dust a split second after you open the door.
Day Nine is for Mitch McConnell. It’s a chocolate turtle, of course, and when you break it open, it’s got a list of all the federal judicial vacancies he can’t wait to fill next year after you lazy liberals stay home for the midterms, like usual.
Susan Collins is on the Tenth door, which opens to reveal a licorice chew in a wrapper proclaiming “Moderate Flavor for a Moderate,” but when you pop it in your mouth, your toes curl from an anise taste so strong, it must’ve come from some disreputable small batch candy factory in a bad part of Manchester. BECAUSE THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A MODERATE REPUBLICAN.
Door Eleven is the shiny new Justice himself, Brett Kavanaugh. It’s a root beer barrel, of course, and when you open the door, it plays a little audio clip of him screaming I LIKE BEER, like one of those talking Hallmark cards. Oh, and it doubles as a roofie.
Day Twelve is for would-be Senator Roy Moore…no candy here, but a gift certificate to buy your own at the bulk store…in the mall.
On the Thirteenth door is Sean Hannity. It looks like a peanut butter cup, but the filling is rancid hamburger meat, crawling with maggots.
Next comes entry Fourteen, Tucker Carlson; a small quantity of candy corns with just the tips removed, because WHITE GENOCIDE.
For Rudy Giuliani on Day Fifteen, it’s some gummy teeth, but they’re…something’s wrong here. Oh god, no that’s…Jesus just shut the door! SHUT THE GODDAMN DOOR!
Day Sixteen brings us to Sheriff David Clarke, and a cookie so over-ornamented with decorative sprinkles that you can’t actually remove it from the box.
Door Seventeen is for Michael Cohen, and it’s a chocolate-covered jumping bean. CUZ IT FLIPS, GET IT?
Next up, Day Eighteen is Paul Manafort, but the candy has already been seized by the government, per Robert Mueller’s instructions.
On Day Nineteen, behind Betsy DeVos’ door, is a little chocolate grizzly bear! Hope you brought your little chocolate rifle!
Day Twenty features Scott Pruitt. There’s nothing there, because he stole it. Maybe it was lotion.
Ok, Day Twenty-One! Here’s Jeff Sessions! Aw, it’s a little white chocolate in the shape of a burning cross! Eat it right away, or it’ll try to deport all your dark chocolate.
Onward to door Twenty-Two. Steve Mnuchin’s nook features a couple of chocolate gold coins and an audio recording of Louise Linton laughing at you because you can’t afford real ones.
Here’s Mike Pompeo on Day Twenty-Three. There’s no candy here, but you get a note promising he’s gonna get you a whole box of super-fancy truffles from North Korea. Really. Any day now, you’ll see.
Day Twenty-Four. Ben Carson’s chocolate seems innocuous enough at first, but a tentative nibble reveals it’s filled with…grain?
Up on Day Twenty-Five is Sarah Huckabee Sanders. A sour ball so sour, it instantly contorts your face into her trademark grimace.
Day Twenty-Six is our ol’ chum, Kellyanne Conway. Looks like some sort of coconut cluster, how pleasant. You bite into it, only to discover it’s a wad of chocolate-covered toenail clippings.
Day Twenty-Seven is the GOP tax bill, which actually takes candy you already bought out of the pantry down the hall and gives it to the Koch brothers.
The Twenty-Eighth door is James Comey; it’s a fruit chew where when you bite into it, you wreck the entire fucking world.
Day Twenty-Nine is for Vice President Pence, and it’s a little candy birth control pill that disintegrates before your eyes the moment it’s exposed to air.
Door Thirty, of course, is the Velveeta Vulgarian himself, and within you find a stale circus peanut. Break it in half, and there’s a cat turd inside. But fuck him, now you’re at Election Day, 2018, motherfuckers!
The REAL treat is the Blue Wave, y’know.