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.
Ron Johnson vs. the Secret Society of Voices in His Head
Well, the Velveeta Vulgarian is out of the country for a bit. Less welcome at home than a wolverine with diarrhea, the President took his Desperate Need For Approval Since Daddy Never Loved Me Tour to Davos, hoping the world’s financial elite would finally be impressed with him now that he’s in charge of a whole country.
Instead he was booed. Poor Donnie. Even with enough nuclear missiles to annihilate all life on Earth many times over, you still get no respect, because everyone can still see what a pathetic, simpering, loser you are.
Anyhow, as the saying goes, while the Gigantic Sack of Shit is away, the Smaller Sacks of Shit will play. All kinds of Republican fuckwads scuttling around, making trouble this week.
It seems the tadpole who had ascended, through Team Skidmark’s what-passes-for-meritocracy-among-the-handful-of-jagoffs-immoral-enough-to-actually-work-for-us promotion system, nearly to the top of the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy, will be resigning, now that word’s gotten out that he’s an under-qualified clod who lied on his résumé and isn’t all that into showing up for work.
Speaking of The Best People, former event planner Lynne Patton took a little break from her job OVERSEEING A MULTI-BILLION-DOLLAR HUD DIVISION SERIOUSLY HOW THE FUCK IS THE COUNTRY NOT JUST ON FIRE ALL THE TIME WITH THESE CLOWNS RUNNING IT to rage-tweet a fat joke at a journalist.
All that stuff about an organization taking on the qualities of its leader? I’m thinkin’ that theory might just have legs. Patton’ll probably be Secretary of State by fall.
God bless Devin Nunes. It’s both lucky and, honestly, extremely amusing, that Il Douche’s most devout congressional lackey is so magnificently incompetent. And the guy imagines he’s playing Nth-level chess with actual intelligence professionals. He’s like if a Marmaduke cartoonist stole an unfinished John le Carré story and tried filling in the gaps after eating a bunch of paste.
Devin had himself a master plan to bring down Robert Mueller and the whole dang Russia investigation. All he had to do was write a little Memo, (and Devin got a B- in memo-writing in his summer course at the community college) in which he says “All this shit is made up and wrong and lies and bad and you’re going to have to take my word for all this because I’ve seen the intelligence and no you’re absolutely not allowed to look at it, just trust me,” and then the whole world would just take him at his word, and nobody would ever check his work or make him prove anything and all Trump’s problems with evaporate then the Underpants Gnomes would make him King of California.
And yet somehow, this Moriarty-worthy plan collapsed, like a house of cards, only with pancakes instead of cards. He refused to show the Magic Memo to even his Republican colleagues in the Senate. Then he refused to show it to the FBI, leading the Department of Justice to write him a “you should really stop, you twit” letter. And then Adam Schiff tapped Devin on the shoulder to remind him, “Bro, I can write memos too, y’know.”
So Nunes is left shaking his fist at sky, bellowing “I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for my own walnut-sized brain!”
Now, after all that bumbling lunacy, you could be forgiven for thinking nobody could possibly out-dumbfuck poor Devin when it comes clownish attempts to block for Trump.
And that’s exactly how Ron Johnson sneaks up on ya.
It’s like “nobody would be stupid enough to – ” is the spell they teach you at Hogwarts to summon him.
Yes, Detective RoJo was ON THE CASE, set to blow the lid off the deep state plot to overthrow the government, like the protagonist in a paranoid 70’s thriller starring Dane Cook in the Warren Beatty role.
“There’s a SECRET SOCIETY,” proclaimed Senator Ron! “And since I’ve put my shoes on the correct feet for three consecutive days now, I’m just the man to take them down!”
And of course the right wing loonosphere gleefully spread his accusations as gospel truth! Ron Johnson has an INFORMANT! Never mind that anyone with actual important information would surely seek out any of the other 99 Senators who can actually, y’know…READ, before turning their findings over to Ron Freaking Johnson, WE’RE GONNA TAKE DOWN MUELLER!!!!!!!
And then the media got ahold of the FBI agent’s text on which the whole conspiracy theory was based, and…dear God, it’s SO obviously a joke. More obviously a joke than the average Marmaduke cartoon, frankly.
The moral of the story is, if Ron Johnson is ever the only dude in Washington saying something, maybe you should consider the possibility that there’s just a stray hornet rattling around in the pudding cup he has for a brain before assuming the dumbest man in the Senate somehow managed to get the drop on anyone.
It looks like we won’t have Pat Meehan to kick around anymore, which is almost a shame, because I was really looking forward to seeing how his Creepy Old Dude Who Has No Understanding of Just How Creepy He Is defenses would play on the campaign trail. Alas, Pat will not be seeking another term in the United States Congress, opting instead to embark on a quest for a new soulmate.
He could maybe start with his wife. Just a suggestion.
Chuck Grassley claims Jared Kushner is too “spooked” to agree to an interview with the Senate Judiciary Committee, likely because Sheldon Whitehouse likes to sit in the back row doing that thing where it looks like you pull your thumb off, and Jar-Jar finds it unsettling.
The rest of us schmucks? We’re out of luck. As expected, plenty of companies are buying back stock, but let’s give props to the one that’s openly using their newfound windfall to pay for a fresh round of layoffs.
Plenty of Republican fuckery on the state level to catch up on, doesn’t that sound like fun? Fucking of course it doesn’t. It’s Friday night, why’re reading this shit?
In Wisconsin, Scott Walker’s cronies fired the heads of the Ethics and Elections Commisions, because oversight is, after all, for cucks. You sorta wonder if the surprise special election spanking they received last week has anything to do with the sudden watchdog-neutering impulse, don’tcha?
Reeling from the electoral defeat of their favorite pedophile, Alabama House Republicans voted to change the rules, doing away with special elections for Senate vacancies altogether. Don’t worry, though…you can still run if you were kicked off the state bench twice for refusing to obey the law.
Congratulate long-shot Missouri Senate candidate Courtland Sykes for misreading the cultural moment worse than the dude who lost the family fortune investing in Betamax.
Gazing out upon the post-#MeToo landscape, Courtland* figured what Missouri really wants is a where’s-my-dinner Neanderthal, bellowing about “banshees” and “she-devils” and “gender-bending word games.” It’s like he’s auditioning for the role of “unhinged guy stalking a Breitbart columnist,” and overacting the part.
Claire McCaskill, meanwhile, probably wondered if she was really lucky enough to have lightning strike twice. I’m sure she’ll be generous when the collection plate circulates this Sunday, “Thank you Lord, for sending me another Akin!”
Another Drumpf-loving Senate candidate, this time in Pennsylvania, seems to enjoy chillaxin’ with the anti-Semitic, Holocaust-denying crowd. I swear, by 2020, you’re going to see GOP primary debates where candidates attack one another for insufficiently praising the Charlottesville marchers.
So, Donnie Two-Scoops called up the Guggenheim, to ask if he could borrow a painting for a non-specific, probably-less-than-four-years period of time, to hang in his bedroom. The Guggenheim responded, “Hell no, you’ll just get mayonnaise stains all over it,” but they helpfully offered up an alternative work of art; a gold-plated toilet.
God, I love this story. Shart Garfunkel likes to imagine the world lives in awe and fear of his glorious might, but here you have an art gallery responding to a request by going, “Nah, brah, YOU CAN HAVE THIS SHIT RECEPTACLE INSTEAD.”
…I’m sure renegotiating NAFTA is going swimmingly.
The latest emoluments lawsuit got rolling, and things look good so far. And that means…um…well…fuck, y’all. I got nuthin’. Emoluments aren’t funny. If you’ve got a good emoluments joke, I think you get to challenge me for my mask now.
We learned Dutch intelligence infiltrated the Russian hackers who fucked with our election (NOT SO FANCY NOW, ARE YA, BEAR?) and passed their findings on to our own IC. So yeah, expect Fox and Friends to call for a bombing campaign against the Netherlands any day now.
Anyway, the Failing New York Times told us the Man With Phalangeal Stunting actually tried to fire Bob Mueller last summer, but Don McGahn heroically stood up to him and threatened to quit rather than carry out the order, in a story that was totally not leaked by Don McGahn.
Sean Hannity did not take this news well. First he yelled a bit about how it wasn’t true and then he yelled about how okay, it was true but it didn’t matter because OH LOOK A CAR CHASE. Then he…painted himself green.
Hannity is not going to survive this journey, folks. Because he’s of that particularly insecure breed of American male who believes saying “Sorry, I was wrong” is some sort of unforgivable weakness, when he reaches the point where even he can’t defend his precious God Emperor anymore, he’ll just…combust, mid-rant, live on television. You heard it here first.
Getting back to the thing where the President of the United States has engaged in a year-long pattern of obstructing the fuck out of justice, Foreign Policy dropped another bomb, this time about Littlefinger organizing a smear campaign against high-level FBI officials, including Andrew McCabe, who just so happen to be potential witnesses in the above-mentioned obstructing the fuck out of justice case.
The good people of Kansas are finally free of Sam Brownback, so presumably there are Munchkins singing all over the place right now because making a Wizard of Oz joke when you talk about Kansas is low-hanging fruit and I’m tired.
Brownback was finally confirmed (after Mikey Hairshirt had to shuffle over to break a tie, because Sam’s old Senate colleagues remember what a dick he is) to his new post as some sort of free-roving international religious scold. Whatever. Maybe now the Sunflower State can actually keep the lights on at their public schools. Congrats on failing upward, jackass.
Brownback will be succeeded as Kansas Governor by Marmaduke, because of the Rule of Three.
The Shart House leaked their immigration plan, offering a path to citizenship for the DREAMers in exchange for concessions out of Richard Spencer’s wettest dream. Stephen Miller couldn’t get this deal if he found a fucking genie, and STILL the immigration hardliners are shrieking about “amnesty.”
Casino Mogul/RNC finance chair/Personal Trump Friend/No Seriously, He’s the Guy Who Hosted he Party Drumpf Had to Skip During the Shutdown Steve Wynn was the target of the latest “rich creep who has been sexually abusing women for decades” story, and all the conservatives who happily tarred the entire left over Harvey Weinstein raced to hold their own side to the same standard.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAH, don’t be silly, they’re all waiting to see if they can get away with staying silent until the President punches Nancy Pelosi at the State of the Union or something and the news cycle moves on.
I don’t know how much longer I can maintain even the appearance of sanity, friends. The never-ending, bludgeoning, barrage of – wait, what? They’re bringing back the XFL?
…yeah, I think that’s juuuuuuuust about my breaking point, folks. See you in Arkham.
*Dude’s name is COURTLAND. Downton-Abbey-named motherfucker shouldn’t be talking about when he wants his dinner ready, is all I’m saying.