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.
Golly, You Sure Do Need a Lot of Synonyms For “Cowardice” To Blog About Republicans During Impeachment
How’s everybody enjoying the new normal? It’s…slightly more relaxing, anyway. Slightly. Like, sure, we’re still clinging to a tiny slab of rock in the middle of a live volcano, but there’s tea now. And little triangle-shaped cucumber sandwiches. Quitcher bitchin’.
So, ok. We’re all trying to figure out how to move forward from four years of increasingly totalitarian misrule that ultimately culminated in an extremely stupid, yes, but also violent attempt by loser terrorists to overthrow the government on behalf of that fellow with the strange baby hands. Anyhoo, top of the ol’ to-do list would have to be, hey, what are we gonna do with this millions-strong hate mob that wants to murder the rest of us?
Well, if you’re a recently deposed conman/thug, looking to make up for the sudden disappearance of the Secret Service piss allowance from the family budget, the first thing you do is you BILK THEM RUBES ONE MORE TIME.
Like any self-respecting cult, the Children of the Candy Corn aren’t gonna let the MAGA rapture’s stubborn refusal to materialize dissuade them from their daffy belief system; while obviously January 6th failed to bring about the ascension of the Turd Emperor in all his skidmarked glory, surely that’s only because somebody made a rounding error someplace. Make perfect sense, really, since nobody involved is any good at math. Or anything, really.
So some Q grand wizard vomited up a bowl of Alpha-Bits after a night of binge-drinking aftershave, and claimed that once they mixed with the wad of pubes in the corner of the Applebee’s men’s room he discovered the message that Assclown Easter is actually set for March 4th, no, for real this time, though keep the second week in June open, just in case, anyway, wear something tactical and slutty.
And then, and this is perhaps the DonaldTrumpiest thing ever, the skeezy old creep actually made time, during this period when he’s sinking into a pit of legal sewage right up to his pinched butthole mouth, to jack up the prices at his tacky-ass D.C. hotel around that date, lookin’ to bleed the bumpkins dry before they take another pass at killing people until he’s President again, I guess. And that’s the circle of life, Simba.
But yeah, we’re havin’ ourselves another impeachment trial, (hope you got your card punched, 10th one’s free!) which so many in the smug n’ cynical pundit class have sneeringly dismissed as political theatre. And ok, maybe it is, but you have to at least admire the innovations to the form. I mean, what does “political theatre” even look like when we disagree on the most basic contours of reality? It’s like Act I was by Arthur Miller, but after a piss and a smoke you sit back down and the curtain comes up on six naked people force-feeding pancakes to dachshunds and the program says it was written by a grad student who’s really into post-punk, Ionesco and libertarianism.
The House impeachment managers were just flat-out impressive as hell. And yeah, it helps to have such an open-and-shut, you’d-have-to-be-either-an-active-collaborator-or-completely-cowed-into-submission by-the-pitchfork-wielding-mob-your-party-became-on-your-watch-to-deny-this-shit case. But they did their damn homework. The argument was clear, thorough, incisive, and packaged in a narrative of righteous indignation, of an America nearly betrayed into tyranny, almost as if somebody asked Jimmy Stewart and Frank Capra what they thought of this shit.
They showed Mitt Romney just how close he came that day to making some new friends to talk about car elevators with, and also that he owes his life to a legit American hero, and how any Republican Senator can bear to exist in the same room as Officer Eugene Goodman without falling to the ground and begging his forgiveness escapes me.
Of course, you can lead a Republican to objective reality, but you can’t make him pull his head out of Donald Trump’s ass. From self-satisfied doodling to outright playing hooky, they’re essentially taunting us with their spinelessness, which is not the impressive look they believe it to be.
I’m almost cringing too hard to document all of the week’s Republican groveling. It’s like God shouted, “Siri, show me the most extreme depths of human cowardice” into His iPhone. If you print this out, be sure to use the most pisslike yellow ink you can find.
Of course, it’s not fair of me to expect courage from these people. Refusing to stand up to Donald Trump was a test you had to fail all over again every single day, and after four years, they’re little more than whipped dogs. We unlocked the fence and swung it wide open, but these docile pets are no longer even capable of survival on their own.
But for a few hours, anyway, they weren’t able to hide from the truth.
See, Donald Trump figured he could cling to power if only he could raise an army of shitsack white boy terrorists, and use them to kill you. And when this cornered-rat plan succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, he planted his ass in front of the television and cheered it on. He REFUSED TO SEND HELP BECAUSE HE WAS HOPING HIS MOB WOULD EXECUTE YOU.
That happened. To you. That’s a thing this man did to you. He tried to have you killed, as an acceptable and not remotely regretted side effect of his plan to seize power forever. So, he was trying to simultaneously end American democracy, and, again, MURDER YOU PERSONALLY. Every patriotic American has spent the last month trembling in fury at the obscenity of this putsch, lacking your personal stake in the matter and STILL you do his bidding, and sit obediently back on your haunches, waiting for a treat you know will never come.
And these clowns congratulate themselves on their clever little constitutionality copout, as though this communicates to anyone, left, right, or center, anything except I AM TOO TERRIFIED OF THE FORCES I’VE UNLEASHED TO EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING THE RIGHT THING PLEASE MOM I CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL TODAY THERE’S A TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEST. Marco Rubio think’s he’s actually fooling people with this shit, and it’s freakin’ adorable.
Utah’s Mike Lee suggested Tangerine Idi Amin deserves a “mulligan,” forgetting that his Kraven Koward Kaucus already burned their Get Out of Treason Free card on the Ukraine affair, and also that he was saying extremely stupid shit on live TV.
Lindsey Graham, unwilling as ever to be out-viled, not only attempted to blame Speaker Pelosi for the gaggle of Republican maniacs who sought her assassination, but even went one abhorrent step further, pointing his scumfuck finger at the very Capitol law enforcement officers that sustained 140 casualties laying their lives on the line to protect his treacherous, gaslighting ass.
…and Tommy Tuberville, well…look. I need a reporter to grill this man, on the record, to demonstrate to the world that he can tell the difference between his own ass and a hole in the ground. Simple pointing will do, but we have a right to know.
The defense has been…oof. In fairness, we’re talking about a team of Better Call Saul rejects that one apparently doesn’t contact until one has already blazed past Giuliani, Dershowitz, Powell and Lin Wood, but still…OOOOOOF. Their meth country clown show quickly became so embarrassing, Senators Graham, Cruz and Lee (you may recognize those three from their televised roles as “jurors in the trial”) sat ‘em down to spoon-feed ‘em the precise disingenuous horseshit they needed to regurgitate to help the GOP spin their imminent betrayal of oaths and whatnot. Drain that swamp, kids!
While acquittal seems certain in this environment, where half the jury shares a bunkhouse in his lower intestine, Gameshow Göring now faces a shiny new criminal investigation in Georgia, over the less-sensational-but-equally-seditious aspects of his coup attempt. Maybe he’ll wind up serving most of his life sentence in New York, but wintering in Reidsville.
Wealth may not trickle down, but y’know what does? BAT GUANO, drip drip dripping from the Velveeta Vulgarian’s carbuncled ass directly into every rank-and-file Republican brain until we’re stuck dealing with some sort of fecal grifter hive mind. Take Michigan Senate Majority Leader Mike Shirkey, proudly spreading widely-debunked conspiracy theories that the Capitol rioters were secret antifa ninjas who cleverly disguised themselves as Trump supporters, to sully the good name of the (checks notes) white supremacist death cult.
Taking a page from the Marjorie Taylor Greene playbook, Shirkey offered just enough of a feeble, half-assed apology to get the reporters off his back, and then promptly turned the bullshit fountain back up to 11. Expect to see that particular maneuver a lot in days to come.
I see the odious Josh Mandel is looking to ride Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s shitty, blood-strained, and yes, electorally humiliated coattails to a political comeback, launching his campaign for Rob Portman’s Senate seat with an invocation of the Dotard so sycophantic, Matt Gaetz was up all night shedding envious tears while ferociously journaling.
Evan McMullin got a bunch of his old friends, the handful of remaining Republicans possessing a teeny bit of residual humanity, together for a Zoom chat, to talk about maybe kinda sorta putting together a third party, where you can cut rich folks’ taxes and starve poor kids without the overtly fashy bits. Good luck, I guess.
On the other end of the right-wing spectrum, Frozen Fish Heir/Mouth of Sauron Tucker Carlson apparently finds it restricting to be confined to just one Big Lie. As he went about his nightly work, taking his eagerly brainwashed followers by the hand and leading them, step by step, ever further from reality, Liar Tuck dropped, with a ghastly casualness, a brand new, wildly insidious fabrication, that George Floyd died, not from Derek Chauvin’s knee on his neck, but of a drug overdose.
…because, why not, really? Everyone knows what Tucker Carlson is for: he’s there to tell frightened, angry white folks it’s okay to hate the people they want to hate. And if the Lügenpresse calls out ze falsehood, well that’s just further proof they’re the Enemy of the People™️ and maybe the next mob should swing by CNN or the Post, right?
…and Mike Lee wants a mulligan.
We can’t unite with you folks right now. You’re sick. I’ve seen enough (commercials for) zombie shows to understand what happens if we let y’all into the compound. We’re already used to social distancing, so y’all work out your disinformation/authoritarianism/white nationalism/terrorist violence problem, and maybe in a couple years we can all get together and rename some post offices.
Incidentally, it feels GREAT, here on the right side of history. You’re welcome to join us on the side without Nazis anytime you like, but unity? Nosirreebob.
I see Nikki Haley’s still playing ideological Twister, jockeying for position ahead of the 2024 GOP presidential primary, and I am missing something here, or could we save a whole lotta column inches by simply admitting that a woman of color seeking to lead a white supremacist death cult is rather obviously wasting her time?
Ok. Nothing to do now but wait for the Senate GOP to blanket the nation with another six or seven feet of shame, I suppose. I really hate having to dig my car out from under that shit, it smells like hypocrisy and brackish Ovaltine. Stay safe out there, my friends.
PS – Late-breaking news reveals Kevin McCarthy ate even more of Donnie One-Term’s shit than previously reported. My God, what a fucking worm.