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.
BREAKING: Right Wing Hatred, Idiocy Ruin Everything (YES, AGAIN)
If anybody had this week in the office pool as the one when the world’s many asshats would finally stop fucking more or less everything up, and let the rest of us just LIVE OUR FUCKING LIVES IN PEACE, you lost your fucking money, didn’tcha? Well, feel free to seek shelter from the merciless barrage of Will Smith takes in the following paragraphs:
Welcome to week whatever of Vladimir Putin’s Dunning-Kruger War, everything’s going great, thanks for asking. Maybe nobody fell for your tricksy fake diplomacy, and maybe your military is retreating, with nothing to show for its efforts but t-shirts reading I Briefly Occupied Chernobyl and All I Got Was This Lousy Dose of God Knows How Much Radiation, but otherwise it’s been a veritable clinic on conquest; you could give seminars at CPAC, or whatever that Nick Fuentes thing is.
Yes, with the dare I say yugely successful completion of Phase One, (which is the phase where you accidentally shoot down your own planes, tactics 101, everybody knows that) Operation: Please Please Please Fuck Up Less You Guys may now commence in earnest!
But can Vlad the Miscalculator’s clown army successfully retrench to achieve even these vastly reduced new war goals? I mean, with the casualties they’re taking, Russia seems to be demilitarizing the wrong country. Personally, I think if you can’t get through one measly month of your war of aggression without begging your Syrian buddies to replenish your supply of bullet sponges, you probably never had much of a shot at restoring the full glory of the Soviet Empire, bucko.
Meanwhile, Doubleplus Good Planner of Wars Putin has placed his own, personal Beanie Baby collection up for auction on eBay to anybody willing to pay in rubles, and Russia’s getting kicked out of the G20 the hard way, but maybe, just maybe, Bret Stephens is right, and this monthlong fuckup parade actually masked the master plan of a KGB super genius playing eleventy-fifth-dimensional chess, and the West is playing directly into his hands by providing the arms that’re destroying his military machine in front of the watching world, and taint-punting his cut-rate economy into the fucking sun.
“Yeah, but WHAT IF THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED ALL ALONG?”
Or, what if Bret’s pompous fanfic is the most perfect example to date of the neuron-rotting condition doctors are calling Contrarian Pundit Brain? I’m starting to suspect NYT finds their conservative columnists by wandering into wingnut think thanks and offering the gig to whoever can fit the most nickels up their nose.
I see Kid Kompromat simply cannot stop himself from begging the Butcher of Mariupol for help with his petty, personal, political fixations. Y’know what? Dig up your own goddamn dirt for once, you lazy fuck. You should try doing work, just one time, if only for the novelty.
New studies confirm that, in defiance of the fanatical certainty of the Science Ain’t the Boss of Me crowd, medicine designed to de-worm livestock is precisely as effective against the coronavirus as anyone whose brain hadn’t been devoured by maggots would imagine it to be, which is to say, not fucking at all. Obviously. OBVIOUSLY.
We had a whole-ass national debate about that shit. About ivermectin. People died. Thousands and fucking thousands of ‘em. Because the terrorists win if we (checks notes) listen to doctors during a global health emergency, you see. That’s “populism.” Anti-elitism taken to its mad, suicidal extreme.
YOU CAN HAVE MY COMPLETELY USELESS HORSE MEDICINE WHEN YOU PRY IT FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS!!!!!
Ok. Those terms are acceptable.
Science is actually amazing, by the way, y’all don’t know what you’re missing. Why, just this past week, we witnessed a phenomenon so rare, most assumed it was entirely beyond the realm of possibility: Kevin McCarthy actually pushed back on one of the proto-fascists in his feral caucus! It was the political equivalent of giant squid footage, trust me.
No, not for inciting violence or attending white nationalist clambakes, don’t be silly, I’m talking about young Maddy Cawthorn, who baselessly, nefariously accused his GOP colleagues of being fun enough to throw coke orgies.
Young man, the Republican Party may’ve devolved into a tangle of plague rats, snapping at one another in a liposuction clinic dumpster, but by Saint Ronnie’s Pickled Testes, the Eleventh Commandment yet reigns!
Assclown Autogolpe apparatchik John Eastman has been ordered to turn more than 100 emails over to the January 6th commission, because it turns out there’s no attorney-client privilege in criminal conspiracies to overthrow the federal government, or so says some deep state “judge,” anyhow.
Oh, and said commission is thinking about calling in Ginni Thomas, to…I dunno, to ask her what the bees in her head have been whispering lately, perhaps? Somebody on that committee needs to cut to the dang chase and say, “Level with us: what’s the nuttiest thing your SITTING SUPREME COURT JUSTICE husband believes? Is it just QAnon, or are we talkin’ lizard people and Jewish space lasers here? Like, do you two have plans to set JFK Jr. up with somebody’s daughter when he comes back?” The public has a right to know this stuff.
Also, I guess there’s a seven-hour gap in the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor’s phone records, from the day of the insurrection, like, during the actual Capitol Riot. I’m sure he was just, y’know…praying. Or trying to figure out how the DVR works, so he could preserve the images of his precious, loser white boy mob, to wank to down in Marm-a-Lago.
I tell you what, folks, it is a goddamn regressive feeding frenzy in the red states right now, and with so much blood in the water already, with the attacks on voting rights and reproductive rights, and the bullshit CRT panic, I suppose it was inevitable they’d turn their teeth towards the LGBTQ community sooner or later, but even within the confines of this unwieldy, way-too-long shark metaphor, I’m astonished at the viciousness.
“Grooming.” That’s the old, slanderous trash these shameless fucks are once again tossing around, with unrestrained glee at another successful heist of the ol’ Overton window by the forces of extremism; Jesus, it’s like they’re browsing SPLC links looking for talking points.
Now Ron DeSantis is about a week away from ordering airstrikes on Epcot, and while Marjorie Taylor Greene remains incapable of assembling coherent thoughts, there’s no mistaking the raw bigotry at the heart of her venomous (if nonsensical) attack on Pete Buttigieg.
It’s the stuff that hate crimes are made of. And they know this.
But they keep on feeding this goddamn Q monster, because, well, given recent history, I’ll allow it’s easier than defending their record. Still, whatever its effectiveness as a get-out-the-vote technique of last resort, this policy of mass radicalization keeps causing violence, DUH, and I guess my personal belief is that the American ideal inherently implies an inalienable right to freedom from the homicidal outbursts of emotionally stunted, easily dupable white men. Call me old-fashioned.
But gee whiz, these weirdos are really scrambling to install their kooky new death cult ideology as the official state religion wherever possible.
And I just think y’all should have to formally codify your shit first, because you’re still in that shifting, Weimar Republic sort of place, and the impulse towards lawless hedonism keeps clashing with your deep-seated prudishness in…fairly creepy ways, if we’re honest. Apropos of nothing, here’re some thoughts on parenthood from Rudy Giuliani’s impossibly fucked-up kid.
Holy balls. Give Todd Solondz the Giuliani biopic, right fucking now.
Seriously though, who gets to contribute to the MAGA Bible? Where’re y’all drawing the line? Does Alex Jones get a chapter? Obviously the Big Lie is Commandment #1, so Chris Wallace is out, but will you be locking in Lara Logan’s “evolution is a Rothschild-funded hoax” drivel, or are you holding out for something even batshitter?
Didja see that story about how Off-Brand Orbán casually ripped off the poor White House photographer who’d shown the courtesy to refrain from publishing any candid snaps of the U.S. President leering at his own daughter from behind the Resolute desk? And you know there were tons of those. Anyway, turns out Donald Trump is something of a jerk, who knew?
Quick sidebar: the only aspect of the whole Cult45 thing that legitimately confuses me anymore is that anybody anywhere still trusts this cheapest of crooks, or expects loyalty from him. Ask Rudy Giuliani how that worked out. Ask Michael Cohen. Mo Brooks. Hey, ask Mike Pence.
Ask Ted Cruz, because I guess they don’t teach the snake story at Harvard Law. Hey, not to offer unsolicited advice or anything, but live your life so the Washington Post can never publish a deep dive into your simpering, reputation-shredding servitude to a dwindling fascist thug who publicly insulted both your father and your wife.
Actually, Don’t Be Ted Cruz is a fairly solid mantra, sure to serve you well in many, if not most aspects of the human condition, ranging from vacation planning to beard grooming to citizenship generally.
Now, just because we all saw the Brobdingnagian collapse of Little Donnie Dotard’s pitiful Twitter knockoff coming a mile away doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still point and laugh at his latest humiliating failure. Or at Devin Nunes, who gave up a seat in Congress for this short, sharp ride on the Titanic. Golly, and it seemed like such a sure thing.
Oh hey, ODD YARNS finally arrived from the printer, so if you backed the latest comic Kickstarter, I’ll have your books in the mail NEXT WEEK. It’s in Louis DeJoy’s hands at that point, so…good luck.
Ok, that’s more than enough of this shit, I think. Thanks for reading, stay safe out there, and while you’re always invited to buy me a beer if you enjoyed the post, this week, circumstances force me to ask you to pay in rubles, if at all possible.