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.
Goody Higgins is a Witch, and Other Tales of Republican Madness
So, everything is, obviously, still largely insane, but, I dunno…it’s starting to feel like maybe we’re near the end of the detox scene in Trainspotting? Like, we got through the baby-on-the-ceiling part, and maybe we’re finally approaching a point when life will be more than incessant, hallucinatory awfulness all the time? That’d sure be swell.
Hey, if you’ve been waiting until the last minute to pitch in, financially speaking, to the battle for the House and Senate, well, the last minute has arrived, my friend. Why not take a quick pass through Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide? I promise you’ll find a few candidates worthy of your support.
Treasonous Cousin-Fucker Rudy Giuliani’s life has descended into raw humiliation porn along the lines of Election or Meet the Parents, and I am not only enjoying it in real time, I have pre-ordered the multi-disc special edition DVD box set, featuring a commentary track by Rudy’s Russian handlers. Even fiction seldom delivers such satisfying comeuppance, but in real life? To a wealthy white Republican male? It’s almost too rich, too good, like fucking in giant fondue pot.
Anyway, staking your big October surprise on foreign disinformation distributed by a drooling fuckwit who merrily skips straight into a hotel bedroom with a giant, flashing neon sign on the wall that says HONEY TRAP? Yeah that was a home run, Sun Tzu. I mean, the Kremlin can’t be THAT much more sophisticated than a Sacha Baron Cohen film crew, right?
Y’know, I’ve been so focused on the Velveeta Vulgarian’s domestic failings (what with the quarter million dead folks n’ all) that I completely forgot about the way he’s turning my beloved homeland heel on the global stage. Yes, between Chief Thuglomat Pompeo’s zeal to join the world’s shittiest autocrats in some sort of League of Anti-Abortion Rights Jagoffs, and the push to mendaciously label human rights organizations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch as anti-Semitic, President Crotchvoid just keeps on transforming the United States of America into the sort of nation we’ve traditionally joined alliances against.
Word on the street is, Government Cheese Goebbels is looking to fire Christopher Wray, over the FBI director’s reluctance to produce a sequel to 2016’s “The Comey Letter,” that critically-reviled ode to misplaced self-righteousness that plunged the entire fucking planet into darkness and chaos. Good on ya, Chris.
In contrast, DNI John Ratcliffe emerged from his default position, attempting to suckle on Donald Trump’s butt acne, to dutifully spread his farthuffing fascist master’s latest desperate spin. In a pathetically transparent attempt to elbow former President Obama’s excellent campaign speech off the evening news, Yes-His-Name-Really-Is-Ratcliffe’s hastily-convened press conference attempted to cast a series of e-mails, allegedly from the Proud Boys, threatening Biden voters with physical violence, as a plot against Donnie Dotard because…reasons. You know the magic has gone out of a would-be dictatorship when the gaslighting gets this lazy.
I see Mitch McConnell’s body has begun visibly rotting away right in the middle of his career-capping anti-democratic power grab, in case anybody was considering cutting a deal with that Kentucky bog witch, thinking she could never hope to make good on her outlandish promises or ominous threats…I mean, Mitch looks like he spent the week performing colonoscopies on demons.
Anyhoo, Wrinkly Gamera and his morally bankrupt caucus continue their slow-motion heist of RBG’s Supreme Court seat, merrily violating rules and norms when necessary, while gleefully delivering hectoring lectures on the Passion of Robert Bork when the absurd procedural calendar permits time for speechifyin’. All this political theatre is dull and irritating, I know I’m going to hate the ending, and honestly, I wish they’d just get on with it, because I need to pee*.
I see some shitty white boy losers had their loser terrorist plots against Smilin’ Joe and Kamala foiled, because all Trumpists are shit-brained failures, who, like their Ruptured Hemorrhoid Emperor, cannot do one single thing right. Let’s see, there’s the teenager with an AR-15 and child pornography, and the shitweasel in Maryland, did I miss anybody? Forgive me, all these mouth-breathing dumbasses look alike to me.
(Y’know, an underreported factor in the election is the sheer number of Cult45ers who won’t be able to make it to the polls on account of being imprisoned on felony charges.)
Turns out when you fuck around with Americans’ right to vote, they get really fucking angry. Also, they vote the very minute you let them. The early voting numbers are…holy crap, Resisters, I didn’t expect y’all to fuck around or anything, but you are NOT FUCKING AROUND out there. With eye-popping, historic numbers every single day, honestly, I don’t understand how Mark Meadows is smuggling all the overflowing diapers out of the Oval Office without drawing media scrutiny.
Still, grassroots MAGA hooligans are pitching in wherever they can, because the party that suppresses the vote together…um…shit. I seem to have backed myself into a corner here. Impresses the goat together? “Blesses the scrote together” certainly fits the house style, but it makes no damn sense, sooooooo…y’know what? Forget I started this paragraph.
THE POINT IS, from illegally surveilling voters in Philadelphia to armed goons playing poll watcher in Florida, the Taintfungus Campaign, understanding they don’t have a snowball’s chance in Jimmy Inhofe’s front pocket of winning fairly, will use every trick in their filthy, fascist book to keep us from exercising our rights.
To these thugs I say, “Lil’ man, you may as well take your toys and go home, we’ve been waiting four long years to do this, and it’s gonna take a helluva lot more than some dickless Call of Duty cosplayers to intimidate us.”
At the final debate, in a virtuosic display of rhetorical brilliance that prompted Zombie Seneca to rise from his grave to slow-clap in awe, the Marmalade Shartcannon successfully vanquished all talk of the raging coronavirus outbreak from the public discourse, replacing it with a bipartisan white hot rage that Hunter Biden, surely history’s greatest criminal, is free to walk the streets, committing God knows what additional atrocities, even as we speak.
We quickly came to understand why his “strategy” during the first debate was to screech like a marmot in a blender every time it was Old Handsome Joe’s turn to speak: he’s utterly, conclusively outclassed, and the side-by-side comparison of a compassionate elder statesman who knows the issues inside and out to a yelping slug, shitting noxious hatred from every orifice at once, didn’t exactly benefit the incumbent.
…but because Fat Q*bert never quite dry-humped the lectern, the unteachable media applauded his improved “tone” anyway. And Jesus wept.
Embattled Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, taking a page out of Gameshow Göring’s despot playbook, has fired or otherwise sidelined four of the seven whistleblowers who revealed his corruption to the public, and we really have to do something about this whole Criminals Get to Fire the People Investigating Them thing. I feel like we shoulda caught that one before it left the kitchen, honestly.
What else, what else…so, Clay Higgins is A) a United States Congressman, with the power to craft the laws the rest of us are compelled to follow, and B) completely, totally, chipmunk-who-got-into-the-meth-jar insane. Seems Clay’s wife had a little dream where “federal squads” took away all their precious bottled water and canned ravioli, and so he took to social media to bemoan the tragic loss of freedom…in his wife’s dream. Which he claims is a “premonition.”
And so, Clay Higgins, not, in fact, from a padded cell, but rather from his seat in the United States House of Representatives, laments the state of the fallen world of his MOTHERFUCKING WIFE’S SUBCONSCIOUS, demanding the rest of us share in his goofy paranoia because he is so ass-backward goddamn stupid that he believes he married an oracle.
Y’know, one of the unfortunate side effects of Democrats’ recent swing-district dominance is that the dwindling House GOP Caucus increasingly resembles an orgy at the Heritage Foundation after Gym Jordan and Louie Gohmert hijack a truckload of opioids.
I see Lou Dobbs is trying to get Lindsey Graham fired. This could be Lou’s entire destiny, the misbegotten sack of shit. Like, maybe he’s White Nationalist Gollum.
Ok folks, I’ve only got a couple more chances to plug my new comic, MINE; the Kickstarter closes in five short days. If you dig SPACE POLITICS, you’re gonna love this book. I seriously do write these comics with you folks in mind, and I think we’ve got a lovely little space fable for the politically inclined here. Check it out.
Ok. That’s enough insanity to last you through the weekend. If you need a snack, why not try some videos of Shart Garfunkel mindlessly ranting while his rabid fans flash white nationalist hand signals? Some ”closing argument,” huh?
*Ideally right on Willard Romney’s hypocritical shoes.