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.
Neither Hurricane Nor Mass Murder Nor Dumbass Trade War Shall Pry This President From His Golf Course
Well, it’s a three day weekend, so there’s only as much scandal as 7 years worth of the Obama presidency this time ‘round. It was actually the Tan Suitiversary a few days back, and by God, if we could survive that, we’ll get through this whole “fascist criminal assaulting the very pillars of democracy” thing.
The Marmalade Shartcannon celebrated Labor Day by sending Mike Pants to Poland to do his job for him. He claimed he needed to stay home and monitor Hurricane Dorian, but because he is the Sociopath Who Cried Empathy, not one living soul believed that shit. And indeed, the lazy old fuck just went golfing (on our dime) again. It’s like when you call in sick to work and run into your boss at the mall, only your boss is the entire American public. Anyway, the next president should be capable of working two consecutive weekends, says I.
This is, of course, the second trip abroad he’s cancelled in recent weeks on account of his Garfield-esque sloth. I’m sure the Poles, old, vital, allies, will understand that while the relationship between our two nations is certainly important, sometimes it must take a back seat to the truly crucial things, like wallowing in a pile of your own filth while rage-tweeting at a sitcom actor.
Getting back to Mikey Hairshirt’s European Vacation real quick, the Vice President is in Ireland today, and even though his business is, of course, in Dublin, he’s staying at Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s tacky-ass golf resort on the other side of the island, because we can’t pass up any opportunity to line the boss’ pockets with taxpayer money, can we?
Lots of folks enjoyed a laugh at Shart Garfunkel’s expense, when he said he’d never even heard of a category 5 storm before, even though Dorian is the fourth to threaten the U.S. during his term. And yeah, it is kind of funny until you remember this KFC Famous Bowl mash-up of apathy, idiocy, and rapid mental deterioration gets to make dozens of decisions with the potential to reshape human history every single day.
Another way the Die Plebs Die Administration celebrated the holiday was by watching the latest bonehead round of tariffs kick in! It makes perfect sense; see, now you’ll have to put in much more LABOR just to make ends meet, because Donnie Dotard’s Idiot Trade War looks to cost the American consumer an extra $1,000 this year! Maybe he’s hoping that we’ll all be too broke to donate to his 2020 opponent? Fuck that, I’m willing to forgo an avocado toast here and there.
Now, as hard as the trade war is on most of us, it’s much worse for American farmers, who are watching their markets vanish like a promised charitable donation from Donald Trump. But I guess the heartland isn’t choking to death quickly enough for Tangerine Idi Amin, so he’s granted waivers from ethanol requirements to the fossil oil industry that will put an extra boot on corn farmers’ necks. Welcome to the list of shit we need to put back together, folks, and welcome to the Resistance.
For a guy who’s so fond of creepy cartoon images that make him look like a pro wrestler rather the engorged tick he is, Weehands McNodick sure is a coward. How big a coward? Well, he’s apparently afraid of the contents of a fucking museum. Yes, back when he decided to contaminate the National Museum of African American History and Culture with his presence, he asked to be kept away from any exhibits he might have found “difficult,” and since we’re talking about a guy who finds closing an umbrella “difficult,” that rules out everything but the hand dryers in the restrooms. And, because his “brand” is equal parts hate and tackiness*, he responded to an exhibit about the Dutch role in the global slave trade by boasting about his popularity in the Netherlands. (And not that it’s really the point here, but of course he’s despised in the Netherlands.)
Overcompensated Windbag Bret Stephens devoted his career to decrying the general snowflakiness of safe-space-seeking liberals, until a private citizen with zero clout and a functionally nonexistent platform called him a “bedbug” on Twitter, and then Bret Stephens realized that he was the victim of a second Holocaust, and frankly, since none of the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis had a column in the New York Times, this one was probably a bigger deal. Stephens, who tried to get a stranger fired over a small joke on internet, is many things; a ridiculous hypocrite, a pompous ass, and yes, above all things else, an absolute fuckin’ BEDBUG.
Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is pissed at Emmanuel Macron for offering to help put out fires in the Amazon, so he’s shouting from atop the highest pile of resentment in all the land that he will no longer use Bic pens, because they are French, and holy shit, this brat runs a whole country. Were authoritarians always so childishly petty? Don’t answer that, I just remembered freedom fries.
Head of the Let’s Keep Fucking Everything Up Initiative, or, as it is colloquially known, the Trump 2020 campaign, Brad Parscale seems to be stuffing himself at the dark money super PAC trough, surprise surprise. Folks, everyone around Donald Trump, every single crooked one of them, is a thirsty parasite looking to suck up whatever they possibly can before the inevitable catastrophic conclusion of this political Frankenjackass experiment. For the overwhelming majority of them, it’s mostly just money; for Stephen Miller, well, he’s gonna get as close to genocide as he possibly can.
There was a Dickless Loser Parade in Boston, which naturally descended into violence. Wait, excuse me, I’m being told this was actually self-labeled, by its own organizers, a “Straight Pride” parade. Personally, I can barely live with myself when I do shit that embarrassing in public, like, I pissed my pants once at a day care center, and I haven’t been back there since. It’s been like, 35 years. I think I left a stuffed brontosaurus in my crate.
And yes, yet another enraged white male armed with yet another assault rifle inflicted yet another tragic mass shooting on our poor, bleeding, country. I guess the guy just got fired from his job, and because he was able to get his hands on a weapon of war, instead of just having a shitty day and moving on with his life, he drove around a couple of Texas towns, randomly murdering strangers until law enforcement shot him dead.
This will happen again, of course. It doesn’t have to, but it will. Overwhelming majorities of Americans want to take the obvious, COMMON FUCKING SENSE steps necessary to stop this senseless epidemic, but one of our nation’s political parties remains fanatically devoted to watering Wayne LaPierre’s lawn with the blood of children, so apologies in advance to the victims of the next shooting, and the next, and the next, that lawn requires a whole lotta innocent blood, and it ain’t gonna water itself.
Texas Congressjag Matt Schaefer got righteously indignant at the thought that anyone would dare interfere in God’s plan and actually try to PREVENT mass shootings rather than pray for the victims after the slaughter. Matty my lad, I am not a religious man, but I can say with certainty that if there is a heaven, there will not be one single NRA stooge politician there.
And because Republicans are insane, mere hours after Texas’ second mass-shooting in a month, a fresh new fleet of dumbfuck statewide gun laws, not restricting but loosening access, went into effect. Now it’s easier to be armed in schools and houses of worship, that’ll fuckin’ fix it, boys! Why don’t y’all just cut to the chase and replace every sidewalk in the state with trenches and barbed wire?
The Failing New York Times published a nice little deep dive into how Kim Jong-un keeps on exploiting his natural talent for playing Strawberry Shartcake’s frail ego like a grade-school kid’s recorder, expanding North Korea’s missile arsenal to threaten more and more American bases, and getting handjobs and challenge coins from the American President in return. It’s like playing Risk with a Hot Pocket.
And in the best news in quite some time, public pressure forced the Let’s See How Much Evil Shit We Can Get Away With Administration to back down from their plan to deport immigrants undergoing life-saving medical treatment, at least for now. But never forget you’re dealing with rat bastards who have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into letting sick children stay alive, and never, EVER, take your eyes off them, for even a minute.
Alright, yeah, it’s a bit light tonight, but it’s a holiday. Go get yourself a beer and a brat. Or better yet, get ME a beer and a brat. Wait a second, I already have a beer and a brat. But I’ll need more soon.
*And that’s a lotta tackiness, folks.