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.
Flushing Day is Upon Us At Last! Oh Joy! Oh Rapture!
Well, my antifa comrades, I can scarcely believe the day has finally arrived. Operation: Jade Helm has entered its final stages, and the destruction of the suburbs is imminent. Time to see what this coalition, forged by four years of relentless Resistance, can do. What a long strange trip it’s been, amiright? (Extends hand for high five. Waits. Retreats from sea of glares.)
I’m posting this from an old laptop of Hunter Biden’s, by the way. You can buy ‘em wholesale at Crazy Rudy’s Discount Russian Propaganda Emporium; they’ll even throw in a semi-automatic rifle with the serial number filed off PLUS a bump stock AND a toaster oven if you can recite your favorite QAnon conspiracy theory without shitting yourself. (To date, no Trumpists have successfully completed this challenge; they are a famously incontinent lot.)
President Shartcannon’s final weekend of campaigning has been surprisingly subdued and conventional…for the high priest of a white supremacist death cult, anyway. It’s mostly the same old This is How Grandpa Got Banned From Applebee’s For Life screeching we’ve learned to tune out, with a little extra desperation born of late-night visits from Dickensian ghosts thrown in for flavor.
I confess, “Joe Biden wants to dismantle the Washington Monument for…some reason” was an inspired spaghetti strand to throw at the wall, but alas, it won’t stick any better than your previous efforts, my darling little fabulists, because you forgot to light the burner under the pot in the first place.
Of course, with all his maskless superspreader rallies, it’s not so much Joe Biden that Gameshow Göring is running against, but reality itself. We’ll see how that plays at the ballot box soon enough, but on the ground, Reality remains undefeated; a new Stanford study links these loser shindigs to 30,000 Covid infections, and 700 deaths. Now, if I were desperate to recreate the razor-thin margins that propelled my previous surprise victory, I wouldn’t spend so much time killing off my most loyal swing state supporters, but then, I wouldn’t appear in public with a necktie hanging down to my fucking knees and pants that look like I’m dressed up like the back end of a hippopotamus, either.
Still, even as their Turd Emperor flails and falters, the rank and file crotchtumors of Cult45 have been poring over their Junior Brownshirt Handbooks to find fun n’ fashy ways to contribute to the effort to end democracy in the United States.
A caravan of the shittiest thugs in all of Texas decided that America didn’t resemble Fallujah quite enough for their liking, and so they engaged in a little recreational vehicular terrorism, surrounding a Biden campaign bus and trying to force it off the road. When shit like this happens in other countries, news anchors tend to use phrases like “sectarian violence,” but the Bonespur Buttplug hasn’t been this thrilled since he learned he could charge the Secret Service to pee.
Of course, not all American terrorists drive trucks; some, it appears, can be found behind the wheels of police cruisers, violently enforcing institutional white supremacy while drawing a taxpayer-funded salary, as in the case of the uniformed goons who tear-gassed a crowd of entirely peaceful Black Lives Matter protesters in North Carolina, rather than allow them to continue their planned march to the local polling station.
Shit like this was presented to me in school, via grainy black-and-white news footage reproduced on VHS, as the savage behavior of a vanquished past. “Don’t worry,” said the social studies teacher, “We’re better than this now, your parents’ generation figured everything out.” And I believed ‘em. In fairness, I was a bit of a dumbass*.
I suppose after all these new entries on the It’s Happening Here inventory sheet, the weekend’s acts of mere traffic obstruction in New York and New Jersey seem comparatively tame, but still, let’s nip that shit in the bud before this dirtbag book club gets any deeper into Mein Kampf, okay?
Having added “craven sycophancy” to his catalog of addictions, Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet plans to replace the handful of adults who have managed to linger in the corners of his administration with a shiny new crew of Chad Wolfs and John Ratcliffes. Or should that be, “Chads Wolf and Johns Ratcliffe?” POINT IS, no more gatekeepers, only accomplices.
And it goes without saying Weehands McNodick is sick of sharing the spotlight with that smartypants Dr. Fauci, he’s almost as bad as Reality, undermining the disinformation and wishful thinking and whatnot. I don’t expect America’s Handsomest Epidemiologist to make it through the week, frankly; President Crotchrot let the virus kill us off by the tens of thousands when he was still trying to get us to vote for him, I shudder to imagine how he’ll handle rejection.
I see Scott Atlas took a break from his regular endeavors, assisting the coronavirus in its spread through the American populace, to moonlight as a useful idiot on RT. I feel like sending your top health care advisor out to dance for Putin’s pet propagandists during a pandemic is disqualifying for the presidency, but then, I thought the “they’re rapists” speech was disqualifying, too. Cool party you got there, Republicans.
Word on the street is, Hairplug Himmler plans to simply declare himself the victor at some point on Tuesday night, regardless of the number of uncounted votes, and hey, why not? When you’ve got a millions-strong rube army who dementedly interpret your endless hours of television watching as a heroic battle against a satanic deep-state pedophile cabal, why not simply keep on lying? I mean, sure, there’s always the possibility of further violence, but with sociopathic narcissism taking care of any pesky feelings of guilt, what’ve you got to lose, really?
This is why his broke-ass campaign has made the ritual post-rally Abandoning of the Bumpkins a regular feature of the Trump experience. Since we live in Hell, I’m certain there are a few breathless NYT/WaPo articles, interviewing the deserted, who proclaim, like so many Appalachian diner patrons, that being left to die in the cold hasn’t shaken their faith in Sultan Spraytan, not one bit, we prioritize hatred over even self-preservation, dagnabbit…but I’ve managed to avoid reading ‘em so far, thank god.
Fortunately, Team Treasonweasel’s despicable efforts to undermine the election through the courts have generally failed, from Nevada to that scumfuck Hail Mary where Texas Republicans tried to just set 127,000 ballots on fire on account of how they were likely to favor Democrats. C’mon, Fundamental Institutions of American Democracy! We just need you to hang in there a little while longer, the clock’s finally running down…
And so, on the eve of his likely firing, the Velveeta Vulgarian once again retreats into his increasingly fortified bunker, to await tonight’s inevitable procession of phantoms; the restless spirits of those he left to die in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria; the victims of the mass shooting in El Paso, the victims of the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, all the victims of all the monsters who felt emboldened by the president’s hateful words to act on their violent fantasies; the legion of Covid dead, and countless others, forgive me, I’m too angry to keep going. Despair, and die, you diarrhea-gargling human cancer.
Motherfucker. I fantasized about wrapping up election season with some rousing sermon on decency and democracy and all that good good stuff, but the truth is, like all of y’all out there, I’m worn the fuck out, and while I’m confident tonight, right now, I just need to get shitfaced and play video games for a bit. Anyway, you don’t need me to tell you what you’ve been fighting for, do you?
Thank you for resisting with me, folks. Thanks for reading these silly little rants. Thank you especially for using the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide to donate to the Democratic Party’s awesome candidates, we raised nearly $40,000 with that site, and I’m genuinely prouder of that than anything else I’ve done in my life.
I still don’t really understand how I ended up doing this, but I’m endlessly thankful that I stumbled across such a bizarre little path, and that I got to meet so many fantastic, passionate patriots while wandering along it.
Anyway, if you’re not busy tomorrow (or today, depending on when you read this), I was thinking maybe we could all get together and save our country from a gang of malicious fuckups? Wear somethin’ sexy.
*I feel like I should provide a link to some sort of visual proof of my middle school dumbassness, but none of that stuff is digitized, sorry. I was really into Ninja Turtles, and I had those glasses that turned into sunglasses when you went outside, if that helps.