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.
Friends, It’s Time For a Break
Because wide swaths of the wealthiest, most advanced nation in human history have been overrun by aggressively overcommitted LARPers who refuse to go home and shower, life in these United States remains dangerous in all sorts of dumb, irritating ways.
It’s hard to watch a cut-rate carny like Kari Lake do her carny damndest to incite mob violence without resenting the sheer mediocrity of this fucking movement, isn’t it?
GO HOME AND SHOWER, YOU DORKS. You’ve been sweating farm-grade ivermectin into your cosplay headdresses for seven years now, and you smell weird. I get that you’re upset about the indictments, but it’s not my fault the nincompoop you chose to worship turned out to be such an inept criminal. The warning signs were always there, y’know.
Off-Brand Orbán kicked off his defense as any innocent man would: by feeding the prosecutor’s wife’s name to his loyal murder mob. Made sure to take care of that before tending to insignificant details like replacing the lawyers who quit upon discovering he’d lied to them about the whole “stealing classified intelligence” thing.
See, the lawyers weren’t telling him what he wanted to hear, (in this case, “well of course secret war plans are your personal property!”) so he went in search of something vaguely lawyer-shaped that would, and he found Tom Fitton. Tom has a B.A. in English and some zany misapprehensions about the Presidential Records Act, so I bet he’ll fit right in at Sidney Powell’s weekly poker game.
Anyway, the Dotard celebrated this latest round of felony charges by skipping out on the check after tricking some of his most faithful followers into thinking he’d pay for their lunch. Hey, if you’re still falling for this crap at this late date, you don’t deserve lunch.
Of course, Joe Biden’s done tons of stuff that’s way worse than hiding stolen defense secrets in the bathroom where Eric touches himself to anime porn. And while Chuck Grassley and James Comer can’t technically back up their wild allegations with anything you’d call “evidence” per se, they’ll be launching impeachment proceedings just as soon as they hear back from this one guy who heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who read it on a bathroom stall door in the Pizzagate restaurant basement.
Joe’s perpetratin’ all sorts of tyrannies, actually, including, as Ted Cruz notes, “murdering children dressed as the devil under a full moon while singing Pat Benatar.” Noot Gingrich blew the whistle on the Biden Administration plot to “force every American to drink Bud light and shop at Target,” while Ben Shapiro obtained a leaked copy of draft legislation that would replace grade school math and reading with “Bert and Ernie in assless chaps in the Sesame Street pride parade.”
Chaps are inherently assless, Ben. It’s like saying ATM machine.
DeSantistan Attorney General Ashley Moody says, “I believe at this point the Biden administration is coordinating with the cartels,” no doubt to clandestinely smuggle the missing ass portion of the chaps for some nefarious, grooming-related activity.
Ronward himself vowed to rename some military bases after dead losers, looking to pander to the MAGA base, which is comprised entirely of future dead losers.
Asa Hutchinson asked the RNC to kindly add a Does Not Apply to Convicted Felons, Obviously addendum to the loyalty pledge you have to sign to get on the primary debate stage, and the RNC said, “lol what part of ‘suicide pact’ is unclear to you, bro?”
…and it was here, my friends, as I was trying to craft a gag that would pair with a link to Tom Nichols’ latest evisceration of J.D. Vance, that I got hit with what I’m fairly certain was a real motherfucker of an anxiety attack.
Had ‘em before, but never the feels-like-a-heart-attack variety, so I freaked the fuck out and went to the hospital, hence the lack of a Friday nite post. Womp womp. They assured me nothing’s seriously wrong, and we’re doing some more tests next week.
Anyway, in the waiting room, I’m scrolling through Twitter, and I see Jesse Watters is trending, for, it turns out, a casually dehumanizing diatribe targeting the homeless, and it occurs to me that maybe pouring evil into my skull 24/7 isn’t the healthiest choice.
Folks, I need a break. I’ve been feeling burned out for some time now, but I don’t think I’ve been honest with myself about the toll seven years of this shit has taken on me. I need to unplug for a bit. Smell some flowers. Spend a few summer evenings in my favorite Chicago beer gardens, talking about anything but the latest turd to fall from Marjorie Taylor Greene’s mouth.
How long a break? I dunno. Off the top off my head, Labor Day seems like a good target. Gonna percolate on it for a spell. I will let you know.
I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate the hell out of everyone who’s supported this blog over the years. You changed my life. Saved it, probably. I stumbled into this thing backwards, just as I was coming to grips with the fact that my theatre degree was not, as I initially believed, a one-way ticket to fame and fortune.
Anyway, I’m grateful. Thank you. I will be back, recharged and rejuvenated. Until then, as ever, you stay safe out there, my friends.
PS – In the interest of completeness, here’re some links to stories I wasn’t able to write jokes for, thanks to my stupid brain chemistry: