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.
It’s the MyPillow Guy’s World, We’re Just Begging God for Sweet Release From It
After all these weeks trapped in my apartment with no company save my own, one thing I’m increasingly certain of: that turtle I kept in a shoebox back in third grade must’ve fucking hated me. ‘Course, the turtle didn’t have the unceasing madness of the 24-hour news cycle to keep him company…lucky bastard.
Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s first Katrina was Hurricane Maria, when he abandoned thousands to suffering and death, because in addition to their lack of clout in the Electoral College, they had the audacity to be non-white. But since we’re all trapped in his new Katrina Wrapped Inside Another Katrina With Extra Katrina on the Side, we barely even noticed the additional mini-Katrina unfolding in Iowa, where thousands remain without power following a derecho storm that hopped on 2020’s Let’s Fuck America’s Shit Right Up bandwagon. Regrettably, your federal government is in more of an “ignoring problems and hoping they go away on their own” place than a “fixing shit” place, Iowa, but please keep sending tax money.
Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo tried to strong-arm the United Nations Security Council into extending sanctions on Iran, but the world simply said, “gonna pass on that one, champ,” because it’s tough playing strongman without, y’know…strength. This was an unprecedented, deeply humiliating repudiation of U.S. leadership on the global stage, and you’d probably wonder why the fuck Team Turdmaggot forced the issue at all, if the last three and a half years hadn’t taught you at every turn that they are cud-brained buffoons who don’t understand anything about anything, hopelessly out of their depth at essentially all times.
Fat Q*Bert’s brother died, in what felt like the universe’s latest desperate attempt to reveal to the American electorate the seeping, moldy, wildebeest turd their President possesses in lieu of a soul.
Joe Biden offered simple, sincere condolences to his rival, as any halfway decent person would, but it came off like trolling, on account of how everybody knows Littlefinger is incapable of feeling human emotions. Indeed, the callous bastard went golfing (why should one death stop his fun when 175,000 haven’t?) before offering such a deranged, self-centered, eyeblink of a eulogy that you’re starting to think the writers are hitting this whole “narcissist” thing a little too hard, aren’t you?
Seems the Manchurian Manchild is desperate for one last face-to-face meeting with Papa Putin before his imminent firing, because he sure as shit doesn’t want anybody listening in on that particular conversation. Can you imagine the advice he’ll be seeking? “But I tried tear gas, everybody got mad at me! What if use napalm?”
Sources say Sharty McFly has further requested that Vlad bring a custom-made luggage set to this meeting, including at least one trunk, postmarked for Moscow, with sufficient ventilation to facilitate the escape of unusually-potent experimental hair tonic fumes, please contact Dr. Ronny Jackson for the precise dimensions; tell him Meadows sent ya if you want the real numbers.
Once upon a time, in a world with different rules, one Hilldawg Rodham Clinton committed the Gaffe of the Century, the notorious “basket of deplorables” comment, which scored an unprecedented 106 Bidens on the Gaffometer. Anyway, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet once again expressed his unrepentant loathing for millions of Americans, urging his dirtbag followers to leave “Democrat cities” to “rot,” and nobody cares, because the president’s homicidal hatred for most of his constituents isn’t newsworthy anymore, it’s a simple fact of life now.
So, COVID-19 keeps running rampant through the United States, because the incumbent president still believes it’s in his political interest to pretend nothing particularly serious is occurring, and because I was naive as the newborn foal, I thought that was as bad as shit could get.
I forgot about the grifters, you see.
Yes, the world’s most famous con man remains the world’s easiest mark, and now the fucking MyPillow guy is whispering in Doctor Dotard’s ear about the latest bullshit miracle elixir he oh-so-coincidentally just purchased a financial stake in. Look, I know the grownups have been exiled and the Oval Office is just a blanket fort made out of Klan robes these days, but can we please set up just enough gatekeeping to prevent the pandemic profiteers from setting federal policy? Like, we can all laugh along as Anderson Cooper takes this freak down on live television, but the joke’s on us, MPG’s the one with access. Sweaty creep could probably get a city in Europe nuked, if he buttered Donnie up just the way he likes and it wasn’t one of the big ones.
Former DHS Chief of Staff Miles Taylor cut an anti-Trump ad targeting the elusive The President Shouldn’t Be a Psychotic Toddler demographic, sharing super-fun stories like one where Dorito Mussolini tried to cut off wildfire aide to California because they didn’t vote for him. Why yes, I am writing this from month six of quarantine during a pandemic that spiraled out of control because our leadership initially viewed it as a “blue state problem,” why do you ask?
Hey, speaking of which, across the country, we’re doing this weird thing where schools try to re-open in unsafe conditions, leading to coronavirus outbreaks and, inevitably, swift re-closings, a truly demented ritual that’s apparently necessary because our country’s conservatives require periodic human sacrifices to prove that scientists aren’t playing tricks on them. I hate it here.
Folks, the stove is still hot. Nobody turned it off. We don’t know how to turn it off, actually, soooo…like, it’s going to be hot the next time you try to touch it, too, so it would be awesome if we could just skip that step. For once. And maybe join the ranks of the non-stove-fondling nations of the world; they can go to movies and shit and I confess I am growing envious.
Sing a dirge for the Resistance, for President Crotchrot, with a single stroke of his wee pen, made all his political woes disappear! Susan B. Anthony has been pardoned, and thus all the “suburban housewives,” as he refers to them, have swung swooning back into his tiny, inadequate arms, for women are simple creatures, who can surely be distracted from the INESCAPABLE FUCKING PANDEMIC by meaningless, misguided symbolism. I believe “checkmate, libtards!” is the phrase you’re looking for.
Somebody in the Shart House finally realized that photographs of kidnapped mailboxes and headlines about elderly veterans waiting anxiously for their life-saving, Trump-delayed medications would be counterproductive to the re-election effort, and thus PostStooge General Louis DeJoy pledged to cease the democracy-wrecking fuckery he’s been perpetrating. I imagine the avalanche of lawsuits had something to do with DeJoy’s sudden evolution on postal efficiency, but we’ll be hearing from him, under oath, soon enough.
Still, forgive us if we don’t take your word for, well, fucking anything, Louis. We’re gonna need you to put all those mailboxes and sorting machines back, by the way, it’s not really a “dang it ya caught me, sure is a shame all that electoral infrastructure got destroyed” sort of scenario; you’re staying after class to clean up your fucking mess.
Well, the Democratic National Convention launched to great acclaim by our covid-adjusted standards. Bernie Sanders and John Kasich are best friends now, they’re opening an artisanal ferret food shop together and everything, and of course a Michelle Obama speech emits enough goodness and hope to light a million lanterns in these dark times, which was just what we needed.
Across the River Styx, the RNC is taking shape. The big news is that white nationalism’s suburban dynamic duo, Captain Nimby and Privilege Lass, will be speaking, because pointing firearms at Black people is how one ascends to national prominence in the Republican Party these days. Gross.
A new report issued by the Republican-controlled Senate Intelligence Committee confirmed the Shitgeyser Campaign colluded with th’Russians to attack an American election and steal the White House, meaning the Republicans on that committee fully understood the extent of Donald Trump’s treasonous crimes when they voted to acquit him of a separate-but-similar set of treasonous crimes in his impeachment trial. Like, honestly, I’d almost rather they suppressed the fucking report; this feels like waving a bunch of senatorial middle fingers tauntingly in objective reality’s face. For the love of all that’s holy, fire these enabling clowns.
On top of the more sinister, treacherous details, the report also informed America that Weehands McNodick sent Putin this sad, cringey, submissive-as-fuck letter congratulating him on “winning” Time Person of the Year. Can we impeach him for embarrassing us this hard? Shit, even if I could travel anywhere, how would I show my fucking face?
Ok folks, that’s enough for one night. Enjoy yourself some DNC goodness, you deserve a few nights to fantasize about the decency the future holds. And did I mention the ol’ Action Guide is coming back soon? Soooooooon…