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.
Warning: Literally Every Conceivable Impeachment Trial Drinking Game Will Quickly Prove Fatal
Well, my shit-kickin’ Resistance chums, the impeachment trial is finally here! Never has the stark divide between our bleeding nation’s rival realities been clearer. We have the truth, honor, decency, and justice on our side, but sometimes I confess I’m a little jealous of the drugs they’ve got over there in Shitty Wonderland; it looks like a really intense, if angry, high. Okay, let’s round this shit up, shall we?
Missed this one last time out, but didja see where the National Archives blurred images from the 2017 Women’s March that contained criticism of a certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor, in the latest Dirtbag Orwell Theatre attempt to pretend maybe the point of the whole dang gathering was to protest Netflix losing Scrubs or some shit? I mean, if we’re editing out anti-Shart content now, future generations are gonna think the period between 2016 and 2021 produced nothing but beer commercials, K-pop, and movies where white people belligerently insist upon “saving” jazz.
Lots of folks think Hairplug Himmler is a recklessly impulsive toddler, careening from crisis to crisis without reason or rhyme, not only incapable of thinking six moves ahead, but mostly just interested in seeing how many pieces he can fit up his nose; in fact, he’s already planning for his post-presidency, trying with all his tiny-fisted might to reverse laws banning bribes to foreign governments, on account of how fiercely anti-corruption he is, you see. Hey, when your name is your brand and both are synonymous with incompetence, stupidity, and snarling hatred, bribery is pretty much all that’s left, especially when you’re in the market to pull off a real estate scam or two, preferably in a country without an extradition treaty.
Devin Nunes hasn’t been in shit this deep since his poor mamma first caught him stickin’ his willie in the family hog back on the old farm. With the Pez Dispenser Only With Evidence Instead of Chalky Candy known as Lev Parnas linking Devin and his staff ever more tightly to the Trump/Giuliani Ukrainian extortion ring, America’s most treasonous Congressman didn’t even get invited to join Fat Q*Bert’s impeachment defense team, leaving Gym Jordan and Mark Meadows all the fun that apparently comes with humiliating yourself in front of the entire world on live television. (I think it’s weird, but it’s a different culture, and we shouldn’t judge. Maybe it’s a sex thing.)
You’ll be pleased to learn that the newest branch of the military is ready to defend ‘Murica in the jungles of outer space. Yes, the first Space Force uniforms are an avant-garde rebellion against the traditional notion of “camouflage,” seemingly designed to make our fighting forces stand out as much as fucking possible on the battlefields of the final frontier, perhaps on the theory that any alien invaders would be moved to take pity on our primitive, dumbass, society.
Kid Kompromat’s top Russia advisor, a bad-guy-in-a-movie-set-in-a-prep-school-lookin’ fuck called Andrew Peek, was escorted from the Shart House amidst a security investigation, with plenty of rumors swirling that this grade A dipshit actually fell for the old “honey trap” bit and got his fucking phone stolen by spies. “The best people” was always a sick, sad, joke, but after three years of scandal-driven turnover, we’re well past scraping the bottom of the barrel; we’re harvesting the fungus from under the floorboards in the room where the barrel’s stored, and giving it top secret security clearance.
Ahead of the impeachment trial, Richard Shelby, who I am told is a United States Senator, and not, as it would seem from casual observation, a Marm-a-Lego steward tasked with licking Sultan Spraytan’s golf shoes clean, excused the President’s many, extremely-well-documented, crimes by saying, “things happen.” Well, yes. Things do happen. Like, I keep forgetting to buy shampoo, right, and I was almost out of shampoo, so I went to to Target specifically to get shampoo, and I got dishwasher detergent and paper towels and those strawberry-flavored marshmallows I like so much, but of course I was halfway home before I realized I’d left without the fucking shampoo, but it was late and cold and I didn’t feel like going back and sure enough the next day in the shower, I ran completely out of shampoo and I didn’t know how I was gonna wash my hair so what I wound up doing was illegally using congressionally-appropriated foreign aid to extort a vulnerable allied nation* into picking up the shampoo for me and delivering it to my apartment. Things happen.
Well, I assume everybody loved White Boy GI Joe Cosplay Day in Virginia, as the March of the Subpar Yet Heavily Armed provided its annual glimpse into the lives of those emotionally stunted man-children who, for whatever reason, find it very important to let the world know they’re too insecure to leave the house without their comically-obvious penis substitutes. Of course, Sharty McFly tried his best to stir the pot with some fear-mongering tweets, perhaps hoping to inspire a little bloodshed. Fortunately, in this, as in most of the endeavors of his pathetic, crooked, life, he failed.
I feel like Kellyanne Conway’s entire career is basically one enormous ongoing dare to God to strike her down with a bolt of lightning. Maybe that’s why she was flying a kite with a key on it when she claimed Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would surely be standing alongside her Turd Emperor today, hollering “fake news” and sharing stale McDonalds, were he only alive to do so.
Mitch McConnell is so committed to aiding Baron Golfin von Fatfuk’s coverup, he’s practically one of the Dotard’s ill-fitting suit jackets. I assure you, Mitch McConnell sees all the polls showing the American people want a real, fair trial, that they want to see evidence and hear from witnesses; Mitch McConnell simply does not care, for he holds the power and you, you peons, with your quaint little ideas about “justice” and “the rule of law,” do not.
Yertle heard somebody say “Democracy dies in darkness” and thought “holy shit that is SUCH a good idea!” and so he hatched** a sneaky little plot to condense the trial so much that much of it would take place literally in the middle of the night, because Americans can’t be appalled by what they sleep through, right? However, his cowardly, indecent, scheme went too far for even his cowed caucus of stooges and sycophants, and he backed off a bit. We did that, Resisters, by flooding the Senate with calls; we’ve already beaten him once, and we can, and must, do it again.
Anyway, Adam Schiff dropped a few dozen 20-megaton truth bombs on the Senate GOP while Tangerine Idi Amin’s banned-from-the-children’s-party-clown-circuit-for-being-creepy legal team wheezed and screeched their way through a litany of long-ago debunked lies and horseshit talking points, another painful reminder that President Crotchrot’s lone hope for political survival is the total obliteration of objective truth in this country, and that it’s a price he’s positively giddy to pay, though of course, as is his custom, he’ll be sticking the rest of us with the bill.
Then Chuck Schumer made a modest proposal; no, it wasn’t to ask the Senate caterer to add Irish children to the impeachment lunch buffet, but simply to subpoena the Treasonweasel Administration for documents and witnesses related to, y’know, that whole Ukraine thang. The idea, near as I can figure it, was that Senators, as jurors in the trial, would be best served by seeing all the relevant evidence, but alas, poor Chuck forgot that formerly uncontroversial things like “honesty,” “intellectual rigor,” and “impartial justice” are totally partisan now, and every single Senate Republican voted to keep their heads firmly in the sand, thank you very much, it’s really quite cool and refreshing down here.
And so we finish where we began; with two competing realities. I’m sure on Fux Nooz, the barely-coherent blather of Sekulow and Cipollone is being spun and praised as the greatest thing since Hannity shoved an entire watermelon up his ass. Here in the real world, we’re just amazed that Republican Senators, supposedly among the world’s most powerful people, can behave so cravenly without their spines spontaneously bursting from their bodies in search of worthier hosts. Ah well, such is life. Apparently. Fuck.
And that’s all I got for y’all tonight. The Kickstarter for my lil’ comic book project is still live, and I continue to thank you, from the bottom of my dark little heart, for all your support. Y’all are the best readers a drunken fake superhero could hope for!
*Norway, if you absolutely must know.