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.
“Nobody Disobeys My Orders!*” (*See Appendices A-GGGG for Orders That Were Disobeyed)
Feelin’ a little jittery tonight, Shower Captives…I assume the choice to consume a dozen Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs was unwise, but I am powerless before the Monday-after-Easter candy sales. Let’s try and get through the news before the sugar crash hits.
We’ll start with the ongoing fallout from the Mueller report. Some of it’s new, some of it I missed in a drunken stupor last week. Look, if you want timely, thorough, sober analysis, go to Jake Tapper…but I’m a helluva lot more fun.
How about the exquisite detail that for months, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III kept a resignation letter in his pocket, next to the Klan pamphlets and Jack Chick comics, whenever he’d visit the Shart House. The vision of that Dried-Up HateYokel, the first major politician to endorse the Fascist Farthuffer’s ruinous campaign, shuffling about, perpetually on edge, wondering if this moment, or the next, or the next, would be the one to finally end his reprehensible little career in shame and failure…unnnnnngh that’s sexxxxy.
Plus we learned that Shit-Smearing Cat Neglecter Julian Assange merrily enabled the harassment of Seth Rich’s family, encouraging a lunatic right-wing conspiracy theory he knew couldn’t possibly be true. It’s gettin’ tricker (and grosser) to be an Assange apologist, isn’t it? “Look, if you’re not down with a possible rapist terrorizing a grieving family in order to cover his tracks while waging information warfare on the United States in the service of a hostile foreign power, you just don’t believe in the free press…or something…I guess.”
I bet Bodacious Bob doesn’t even care about the collateral damage he’s done to the drool-drenched nutjobs of the QAnon movement, the heartless bastard! The Qnatics were SO EXCITED to finally take down the Obama/Clinton/Lucifer child pedophile ring that exists only in their minds, but all they got was a plateful of dumb ol’ reality, NO FAIR. C’mon, Bob, couldn’t you have thrown ‘em a bone, maybe something about some pizza joint somewhere with a worn-out copy of Tiger Beat, maybe from the Jonathan Taylor Thomas era, in their lobby?
Why are the tears of the maliciously misinformed so delicious? I printed out a couple of articles on the post-Mueller report QAnon meltdown, ground them up, and started sprinkling them on my food; everything tastes like a supermodel orgy in the middle of a giant vat of Ben & Jerry’s, but I’ve still lost six pounds.
Sarah Slanders has embarked on a hilarious quest to stake out some sort of credibility following the report’s “Yes sir, Mr. Mueller, I am a great big liar, please don’t send me to prison” section. As near as I can figure it, the plan is to say she was lying when she confessed to lying, so you can totally trust her. Y’know what’s INSANE? There are still people out there, millions of ’em, who believe this condescending gaslighter when she talks. Don’t you want to meet those people? And sell them magic beans?
With the Uncredible Huck on the shelf, Team Treasonweasel was forced to turn once more to Rudy Giuliani as a television surrogate. “There’s nothing wrong with taking hacked information from the Russians if you really really want to be President,” he insisted, “Just like there’s nothing wrong with fucking your cousin if you really really want to fuck her!”
…it’s a testament to just how counterproductive Stephen Miller’s snarling, unconcealable* hatred for all life is, that they’re reduced to trotting Rudy out there again.
Talking Brylcreem Tube Willard Mitt Romney responded to the report’s mountain of damning evidence by saying both “tsk” and “tsk,” in an uncharacteristic explosion of emotion that very nearly bordered on patriotism and respect for the rule of law, before asking President Crotchrot to please send him another slate of unqualified hack judges to confirm to lifetime appointments.
Y’know, Mittens is fantastically wealthy, and, as a U.S. Senator, legit one of the most powerful people in the country, if not the world. And I wouldn’t change places with him for anything. Because me? I can stand the sight of myself in the mirror.
Far and away the best stuff Mueller gave us is story after story of Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, perched, kinglike at the Resolute desk, issuing orders like the mighty commander of men he so desperately imagines himself to be, only to have his subordinates treat him like a doddering old nitwit, a declining grandparent to be gently smiled at and placated, but ignored the moment you’re out the door. “Go forth, and make my will reality,” sayeth the Shart; “Nah,” respondeth the underling.
God, it’s Hairplug Himmler’s worst nightmare! The inescapable truth of his weakness, paraded for the whole world to see! Confronted by a reporter, he spat “nobody disobeys my orders,” but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. For the Neanderthal Narcissist, this is worse than impeachment.
Speaking of impeachment…golly, that’s the hot topic, isn’t it? The new dance craze sweeping the nation? To impeach, or not to impeach…that is the question! Elizabeth Warren is certainly on the impeachment train, between rolling out major policy proposals left n’ right. Others council caution, arguing for more public hearings for now, maybe a little impeachment for dessert if you finish your peas. Me? I haven’t made my mind up yet, which is fine, because I’m just a drunk in a mask and a bathrobe. Seriously, why are you even reading this shit?
So, Duncan Hunter, poster boy for the House-GOP-Caucus-to-Prison Pipeline, apparently dissatisfied with the rate at which life is stomping all over Duncan Hunter’s nutsack, decided to take matters into his own hands, staging a little fear-mongering stunt designed to demonstrate how allegedly easy it is to cross the southern border. Trouble is, our boy, indicted as he is, is not allowed to leave the country, as his once-and-future Democratic opponent, Ammar Campa-Najjar, was all too happy to point out, leaving Duncan little choice but to confess his silly show took place NEAR the border, rather than ON it. (Pause for laughter)
Hunter won’t be in Congress long, but if there’s an opening on Mount Olympus for a God of Self-Owning, I think he’s got a bright future once his jail term ends.
Hey look, a couple of choice specimens decided to model their fashionable MAGA-hat-and-Nazi-armband combo outside the Rhode Island Holocaust Memorial! The duo briefly expressed their “economic anxiety” before being chased away by a decent human being. Hey, how much do you love seeing the American President’s campaign gear co-accessorizing with a goddamn swastika?
Speaking of the Very Fine Folk, looks like we’ve got ourselves a lil’ border militia, helpfully tending to the garden of American greatness by pointing rifles at migrant children! Now, I don’t want to perpetuate stereotypes here…I’ll leave that to this New York Times article, which contains phrases like “trailer park,” “common-law wife,” and “training to assassinate George Soros, Hillary Clinton, and Barack Obama because of these individuals’ support of Antifa.” Anyway, the genius leader of this band of boneheads got himself arrested because he posted videos of his recreational terrorism on social media, even though he’s not legally allowed to own firearms owing to previous felony convictions, and now he has been arrested, THANK GOD. Let’s throw away the key this time, huh?
And Herman Cain withdrew from consideration for the Federal Reserve Board, a rare example of stopping one of the Candycorn Skidmark’s unqualified nominees before they get to fuck shit up. Congrats, Herman, you returned to the public sphere just long enough to remind the world of your ethical and intellectual failings, and now you slink away with absolutely nothing to show for it. Another trademark humiliating defeat from the Shart of the Deal.
Stephen Moore’s nomination is still on track, however, despite seemingly hourly new revelations of his lifelong shittiness. Today, we unearthed some of Moore’s old writings, that read like they’ve been copied straight off an incel 4chan board. Folks, these are some genuinely pathetic tantrums, documenting his inability to emotionally process the mere presence of women in and around basketball games, and his desperate need for a safe space where he’s free to be the 11-year-old boy he’s always been, developmentally. Sounds like a Trump Republican, alright.
And the Velveeta Vulgarian decided to sue House Oversight Committee Chairman Elijah Cummings, on the novel legal theory that if he stamps his feet hard enough, Congress’ constitutional oversight power will magically disappear. Is losing in court addictive, or something? Maybe his staff needs to lock him in the residence for a Trainspotting-style detox, though that would likely involve hallucinating a baby with Jay Sekulow’s face, crawling all over the ceiling while its head spins around.
Democrats responded with the House Judiciary Committee shooting a subpoena over to Don McGahn, inviting him to stop by for some tea and crustless, triangle-shaped, sandwiches, to repeat some of that obstruction of justice evidence he’d given to the Mueller investigation not so very long ago. See, what Donnie Dotord doesn’t get is, now we do the entire investigation over again, just in public. When we’re done with that, we’ll do it as a goddamn musical.
And Fat Q*Bert delivered a droning, dishonest, rant about the “depleted military” or some shit…to a group of children, at the White House Easter Egg Roll, and even if there isn’t sufficient evidence of obstruction of justice in the Mueller report**, surely we can impeach the turd for being TOO MOTHERFUCKING INCOMPETENT TO PULL OFF A MOTHERFUCKING EASTER EGG ROLL. I’m proposing a constitutional amendment that states if you can’t manage an hourlong party for children, you can’t be President.
That’s all I got, friends…kinda light today. I’m going to spend the rest of this beautiful Earth Day out on my back porch, partaking of my personal favorite examples of nature’s bounty…hops and barley. And I promise I’ll recycle the bottles afterwards.
*”Unconcealable,” according to my digital dictionary, may not be an actual word. I don’t give a fuck. You don’t like it, get your own fuckin’ blog.