Donald Trump had a problem. A problem called “democracy.” See, he LIKED being President, (well, not the work part, but definitely charging the Secret Service to pee) but those rat-bastard Founding Fathers built all these dumb ol’ “elections” into their dumb ol’ “Constitution,” and smack dab in the middle of an economy you personally wrecked and a pandemic you disastrously mismanaged is nobody’s idea of a great time for a performance review.
Devin “Pigfucker” Nunes was an early adopter of Donald Trump’s unique blend of authoritarianism and kakistocracy, and it’s not hard to understand why; it takes a whole lotta institutional white supremacy to keep men so maliciously mediocre in positions of power.
There is no greater proof that the Republican base has no goddamn sense than Mitch McConnell’s consistently dismal approval rating from voters of his own party; the man is absolute ghoul, yes, and certainly he projects little folksy warmth, but he puts Ws on the board. Big ones. More than anybody I’ve ever seen.
One of Trump’s earliest congressional taint remoras, Ron DeSantis rode a wave of I’m With Stupid first to the Florida GOP’s 2018 gubernatorial nomination, and then, because learning from mistakes is apparently for cucks, to a narrow general election victory.
To level with y’all up front, I think Tucker Carlson is the most dangerous man in America. He’s the mouth of American fascism, and Donald Trump’s unofficial Chief Disinformation Dispenser, and, ultimately, a manufacturer of brownshirts.
Take an unusually weak mind, surgically remove evolution’s hard-won capacity to tell fact from fiction, fill the empty spaces with hate, and you’ve got Marjorie Taylor Greene. Drop that mind in the middle of the I-know-we’re-not-supposed-to-dismiss-MAGA-whites-as-racist-hillbillies-but-COME-ON shithole known as the Georgia 14th, and you’ve got the dumbest, most malicious member of the United States Congress, and ascendant American fascism’s loudest, vilest mouth.
When Rudy Giuliani, having just chugged a bottle of methamphetamine-laced NyQuil, stumbled onstage to deliver his apocalyptic sermon of fear at the 2016 Republican Nation Convention, you knew something was deeply fucked in this country.
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.
Another Week at the Mercy of the Murderously Mediocre
Keeping up with the news these days makes me feel like someone is using my skull for a vomitorium, at a party where somebody’s gross cousin brought really bad acid. Well, there’s no way that image didn’t whet your appetite, so I’ll take the liberty of assuming you’ve been hooked, and proceed.
Vladimir Putin spends his days cross-legged on the bathroom floor, helplessly fixated on his inevitable place in the history books, as Czar Fuckup the Great Big Fucking Fuckup Who Fucked Up So Hard We Will Literally Never Stop Talking About It So Long as Humanity Persists, and sobbing. Goes through a ton of…I dunno, maybe Ben & Jerry’s, maybe cheap, Soviet-era meth.
It’s not fair, really. Call of Duty makes war look so fun n’ easy, but the reality is full of boring-yet-crucial details, like “do I understand how fuel works,” “are these tanks, or rolling death traps,” and “seriously, is anyone in this piece of shit army even literate?”
See, when you neglect that shit, you can wind up, say, shoveling the tattered remnants of your pathetic armored divisions directly into the waiting maw of enemy artillery, while your legion of clowns repeatedly fails to construct a pontoon bridge. Hypothetically speaking, of course. That would be really embarrassing, though, wouldn’t it? Like the Spanish Armada, but dumber.
Tank graveyards: betcha can’t leave just one.
Anyway, consequences pile up in a hurry when you suck this much, so Vladimir the Terrible (At His Job) now appears to be drastically scaling back battlefield objectives for the second time in less than three months. At this pace, by Labor Day, he’ll be attempting to encircle a single Ukrainian Denny’s.
And fucking that up, too.
Did you know Pootie has his own sad, caffeine-free diet shithole NATO? It’s called the “Collective Security Treaty Organization,” and while they’re considering an application from Ron DeSantis’ new secret election police force, the current roster is Russia and five former Soviet Republics with the approximate combined GDP of a reasonably busy Starbucks.
So, this fearsome alliance held a little meeting, presumably in Lukashenko’s basement, where the Belarusian strongman, who totally isn’t Putin’s puppet, (there’s a perfectly logical explanation for the KGB cufflinks that keep turning up in his stool, SHUT UP) tried to get the team all fired up about hopping on the boondoggle bandwagon. And everyone basically looked at their shoes until it was time to leave, because allies are tough to come by when you’re smashing your own military to bits for spite.
Of course, the Russians insist they’re the Real Victims™️ of their war of aggression, which flaunts their kinship with our own domestic right wing in a rather instructive manner, don’t you think?
They whine about NATO expansion, as though it’s unfair, and frankly, more than a little tacky of their neighbors to do anything but patiently await their own annexation. They whine at talk of using their seized assets (brilliant move leaving all that shit in foreign banks, by the way; that’ll come up in those history books we mentioned) to rebuild the sovereign nation they chose to invade. They whine that their enemies refuse to stop exploiting their ever-expanding smorgasbord of self-inflicted errors, and then they launch another missile at another hospital.
Yes, my dude, you are being kicked while you are down. If you don’t like it, pull your butchers back. You could give that order right now.*
But no, they’re pulling all this creepy, cultural redecorating, shipping Russian statues and textbooks and shit into occupied areas. Personally, I’d wait to see if the cheap, plastic army men can actually hold any of this fuckin’ territory before I invested in remodeling, but I suppose it’s hardly reasonable to expect budgetary prudence at this late date.
wE’Re GOiNg tO ReBUilD maRiUPOl aS a REsoRt tOWn, they yelp. You can mark me down as skeptical on that score, comrades, but feel free to invest your kids’ college money. I mean, those of you who remain in Ukraine are unlikely to do so above ground.
Because pricks have begun appearing in the propaganda bubble, (and I’m not just talking about Tucker Carlson, ayyyyyyyyyy) and you’re already scrambling to find fresh meat to toss to the howitzers, and now you can’t even drown your sorrows in a fucking McFlurry. Heck, even the handful of collaborators you’ve managed to dig up are hot trash.
Just to sum shit up, Vladkins…when they’re afraid of ya, they don’t talk about how weird ya smell.
Oh, and what a diverting gaffe from our 43th President, ho ho ho! Dubya is surely well into the Nightly Visits From Dickensian Ghosts phase of his post-presidency, so expect more of this sort of thing.
The power-mad, illegitimate SCOTUS majority decided it was simply too goshdarn difficult to bribe elected officials under current law, in Ted Cruz’s name, just to be extra shitty about it. Dunno what to tell you, the voodoo dolls I ordered off Etsy didn’t work.
Big win for the American Right in Buffalo this week, as the stochastic terror tree they tend with such care once again bore fruit, in the form of the latest subpar white boy mass murderer. Just in time for the midterms.
Now, you might expect a pundit or a politician to respond to news that their own rhetoric is indistinguishable from that of a white nationalist terrorist with something resembling contrition, or shame, but you have to understand, from where they sit, these fucks are so achingly close to a world where they can openly applaud this violence, LIKE THEY WANT TO, that it’s pretty irritating, being forced to go through the motions, say, “oh, shooting people is wrong”…since it’s not something they actually believe.
Oh, you’re exaggerating, Cap, that’s not fair, I bet Kyle Rittenhouse gets invited to hang out with the undisputed leader of the Republican Party for lots of reasons that have nothing to do with the two human beings he shot to death. I’m sure he’s insightful and amusing on a wide variety of non-murder topics.
We will not be receiving an apology from Elise Stefanik, let alone her absolutely warranted resignation, is what I’m saying. White nationalist rhetoric, is, after all, the entire reason she has Liz Cheney’s old job. And of course, should you criticize her, she’ll simply call you a pedophile until one of her fans takes matters into their own hands.
The yapping heads of the wingnut media bubble predictably provided the sweet, soothing balm of fresh victimhood to their audience of disinformation junkies, madly blaming the tragedy not on the unapologetic racism of a manifesto-confirmed white nationalist, but abortion, or “wokeness,” or the unfinished Minesweeper game on Hunter Biden’s laptop.
And it was a false flag anyway, so honestly, don’t give it another thought. (Unless you’re inspired to perpetrate a terrorist attack of your own, in which case, please follow these digital breadcrumbs until your mind is completely shattered, at which point you will be directed to the nearest gun shop.)
Nope, no one will be apologizing for this system functioning exactly as designed. Tucker Carlson’s work is measured in corpses, folks. Shit, Laura Ingraham would sue the manifesto for plagiarism if there was money in it. Meanwhile, Matt Schlapp’s over in Hungary, explicitly pitching abortion bans as offense against the “great replacement.”
Jeeeeeeezus. Even the NRA generally had the decency to slink into the shadows for a couple days, while the bodies cooled. See, it’s that lack of shame that gives fascism its kick.
Boy, there’s nothin’ quite like primary night in an era of ascendant authoritarianism, amirite? Grab a sixer, heat up some pizza rolls, wait around to see just how much Nazi shit our neighbors are in the mood for this week…the answer is never “zero” anymore, which isn’t great, if you ask me.
Still, Idaho Lt. Gov. Janice McGeachin was unable to ride her newfound celebrity in the white nationalist community to a promotion, and I’ll drink to that news. Shit, I’ll do a line of coke off Brad Little’s ass to that news; we should party like it’s 1945 every single time these shitbags lose.
For example, I’m expecting a Supreme Court showdown over the cake I’m having baked for my Madison Cawthorn Won’t Be in Congress Anymore bash this weekend.
It’s tricky, trying to pin down exactly which line young Maddy crossed to earn his death cult defenestration; must’ve been the kinky videos, or the Eyes Wide Shut Was Basically About Kevin McCarthy allegations, cuz it certainly wasn’t the penchant for gun crime or the Hitler vacation. It’s hard to tell when you’re dealing with people who guzzle livestock medication and worship a game show host who has to pay for sex.
Still, not nearly enough Congressmen vow revenge upon electoral defeat, y’know? Like, tell me Eric Cantor spends his days constructing an enormous trebuchet, and searching Zillow for a property juuuuuuust the right distance from Dave Brat’s house.
Anyway, it’s “Dark MAGA” the little crotchpimple wants now, which must mean, like, a colon tumor with teeth, erupting hourly, spewing corrosive diarrhea…what else could those three syllables possibly imply?
Doug is one of those loons who composes apocalyptic fanfic about “real men” saving civilization from the vile, hedonistic forces of People Who Disagree With Doug Mastriano, who must, of course, be destroyed at all costs, and he’s running on the promise to commit the crimes no one was willing to commit last time out. “Vote for me, and I’ll hand-pick the votes that count, in this pivotal swing state.”
“Vote for me, and we’ll never give the power back.”
Pennsylvania Dems think they’ve got the next Todd Akin here, but as someone who spent a substantial chunk of 2016 reveling in Donald Trump’s toxic unelectability, I’m gonna leave my gloating pants in the closet for now. If you can spare a buck, give Josh Shapiro’s campaign a boost, because democracy is pretty cool, and I imagine we’d all like to keep it around.
Well, not all of us. Not Doug, certainly. Not Ginni Thomas. Or Mark Meadows. Not Donald Trump, or his dirtbag lawyer, John Eastman. Not Jody Hice, or any of the other MAGA candidates seeking control over our election infrastructure. Not the Republican primary electorate in Pennsylvania, that’s for sure…we’re actually in the fight of our goddamn lives, aren’t we?
…with a regressive grievance cult that finds feeding hungry children during a formula crisis immoral. I’m willing to admit some of my previous assumptions about the fundamental decency of the average American were on the overoptimistic side.
See? Vomitorium. And while there’s no reason to think beer can wash the memory of any of this crap away, I’m gonna give it a try anyway, for science. Stay safe out there, folks.
*Putin reads my blog, right? Or Lavrov gives him bullet points, anyhow.