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.
Happy Impanelling Day, Everyone!
There’s no fucking way all this shit happened since the last time I wrote one of these. It’s been like, 23 hours. One short American day, and it’s like a 13th Floor Elevators record fucked a Mark Leyner novel. WHAT THE LIVING FUCK IS GOING ON IN MY BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY?
We greeted the morning, sun-kissed and dew-fresh, with the Velveeta Merkin’s latest twitter tantrum, raging at Congress for bringing relations with Russia to an “all-time & very dangerous low.” You guys, Vlad won’t even let Lil’ Donnie come over to play Duck Hunt, and he’s got the zapper gun and everything!
Yep, the American President, who didn’t get mad when his intelligence services told him that Russia had attacked our democracy, and planned to keep on doing so in the future, pitched a fit when Congress passed sanctions designed to punish them, and, y’know…PROTECT THE FUCKING COUNTRY HE’S FUCKING PRESIDENT OF. MURICA FIRST!
And then we were treated to leaks of some transcripts of phone calls with foreign leaders from Drumpfy’s salad days (taco bowl days?) as the most powerful human on earth, when he still had a spring in his jackbooted step, full of youthful dreams of autocracy and using the U.S. treasury as his personal petty cash drawer.
You read these transcripts, they make you go, “Holy FUCK, this guy couldn’t pass a third grade social studies test!” Makes you wonder how much of John Kelly’s day is spent tying the President’s shoes and intercepting him before he runs into glass doors, doesn’t it?
My personal favorite bit was where the Shart of the Deal begged Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto to please please please not embarrass him by telling the press Mexico would never ever pay for his Big Stupid Wall. He threatened and whined and eventually even begged before walking away with…the polar opposite of what he wanted.
I just don’t understand how this veritable God of Negotiation didn’t get a health care bill done.
He also got caught saying he won New Hampshire (which Hillary Clinton won, by the way), because it’s a “drug-infested den.” I’d like to just take a moment to thank Dorito Mussolini for taking those 4 electoral votes off the table for 2020.
Indiana Jones’ shittiest nemesis, Seb Gorka, went on Fux Nooz to peddle the somewhat novel theory that his boss will be able to pressure China to reign in North Korea with…the awesome power of his mighty Twitter feed!
Yes, Sebastian, I’m sure the spittle-drenched ravings of a septuagenarian toddler can move mountains. Good thing Shartboy wasn’t the President in Independence Day, he’d be out there futilely mashing his childlike fingers all over his smartphone, ten minutes later the whole human race would be reduced to some sort of nutritional paste.
H.R. McMaster and John Kelly have been sweeping some of the frothier nutjobs out of important national security jobs, and the alt-right is mad…der than usual. McMaster certainly didn’t make any new friends in the Infowars corner of the internet when he cleared Susan Rice of any wrongdoing in the faux unmasking “scandal.” To be fair, he’s probably a globalist lizard person.
As you can see, it was kind of a slow news day. I mean, I think I saw something about Robert Mueller impanelling a grand jury in D.C., and I think maybe Sarah Huckabee Sanders got a pet rock for her office, but otherwise it —
Ok, maybe that news was pretty big. Hope so. Hope it lands like a comet right in the middle of the Pile of Sphincters currently polluting our executive branch, an extinction-level event that wipes Drumpfism from our county for all time, leaving nothing but Steve Bannon’s fossilized liver for future generations to study.
Yes, Rugged Robert impaneled the shit out of that grand jury, right in Washington D.C. (Admit it, you didn’t know “impanel” was a word before today, did you? I sure fuckin’ didn’t. Seen it so much these last four hours it’s probably gonna be my first kid’s middle name.) Word is the subpoenas are already rolling out for folks connected to Shithead Jr’s Excellent
Adoption Collaboration Adventure.
Yeah, this means subpoenas for documents and testimony. It means this Flock of Rectums has to testify under oath. It means Boisterous Bob and his team of Crack Ambidextrous Ninja Cake Boss Lawyers (Though I’m still waiting for them to hire a demolitions expert. Gotta have a demolitions expert.), whatever they’ve found, have seen enough to keep digging. It means Jared Kushner’s going through six pairs of underpants per day.
It means these assholes are in some serious shit. It means this gang of cheap crooks, who lie like most folks breathe, are finally about to get marched into the room where lying is a prosecutable crime.
And just to grind the boot that stomped so firmly down on the Trumpal scrotum, CNN reports that Mueller’s probe has expanded beyond collusion and obstruction to whatever financial crimes happen to turn up during the investigation.
Now, Sharton Fink claimed this was a “red line” whose crossing he wouldn’t tolerate, but Mueller’s jurisdiction is clear. Personally, I’m picturing the first day of the impeachment trial, with the President raging from the witness stand as Mueller calmly, quietly, unbuttons his shirt, revealing his torso to be covered in tattoos of the incriminating tax returns Littlefinger tried so desperately to bury.
The CNN story also says the investigations have turned up communications regarding attempted collusion on the part of Russian agents, which mentioned somebody named…Manafort, or something? I feel like I’ve seen that name someplace.
Anyway, John Kelly locked the President in a crate in a corner of the Oval Office until he promised to be a good boy and not try to fire Mueller.
Apparently the Secret Service vacated their command center in Drumpf Dower? Because this Assclown was trying to grift a little more cash from the organization employed to protect him and his family? Christ on Melba Toast, how the fuck is this real life?
(Of course, one can’t help but wonder if these crooks might not be wild about the inescapable presence of subpoena-susceptible secret service agents while they’re busy with all their treason and collusion and what have you.)
Oh, and Mike Flynn popped up to revise his disclosure forms again, this time revealing a role with a Mercer-backed data analytics firm being investigated for…you guessed it, potential collusion with Russia.
It’s kind of fun, watching these bastards squirm as they keep getting caught in lie after lie. Six months from now, Steve Bannon’ll be amending forms because he forgot about that THIRD intern’s corpse webbed up in the corner of his hive-like West Wing office.
West Virginia governor Jim Justice decided to switch parties, leaving the Democrats to join the Republicans at the Candycorn Skidmark’s rally tonight. You gotta admire the political instincts of a dude who waits until a guy’s approval ratings hit 33% before rushing to stand beside him. Double-J’s like a guy who moves to Pompeii ten minutes after he sees the volcano erupt. Far be it from me to judge.
At the rally, Shart Garfunkel proudly proclaimed “there were no Russians in our campaign,” because the bar is lowering at warp speed these days. By the way, even that isn’t true, as everyone who remembers Boris Epshteyn will tell you.
Amusingly, Pumpkin Spice Goebbels waited until tonight’s rally, a week after his health care bill died like Collateral Beauty at the box office, to encourage his supporters to call their Senators to support it. Not since Lyndon Johnson has such mastery of legislative process been witnessed.
Speaking of, on the way out the door for their August recess, the Senate announced a series of pro-forma sessions, to prevent Smallhands Magoo from replacing Jeff Sessions with Omarosa or whatever other manic whim might cross his hair-tonic-addled brain. Really, nice job with all those tweets going after Senators in your own party, genius.
Speaking of the recess, I wish Yertle and his team nothing but the best as they spend the next few weeks explaining to their constituents, “Hey, yeah, we totally tried to murder a whole bunch of y’all, but the good news is, we’re such a bunch of clown-like fuck-ups, we couldn’t get it done!”
And while I hate to wrap up on a down note, it appears that Sean Spicer has turned down Dancing With the Stars, boooo. Producers allegedly tempted Spicey by offering him the chance to perform the traditional “Dance of the Seven Bushes,” but the recently deposed press secretary wants to confine himself to private humiliations, at least for the near term.
Before I sign off for the evening, I do need to issue an apology to you, readers. I overlooked the story about Tangerine Idi Amin turning down the opportunity to play the President in a Sharknado movie because he decided he’d much rather fuck shit up for realz, and if crap like that slips through the cracks, what the fuck am I even doing here?
Anyhow, I’m gonna go sit in the corner of my padded cell and smear poems about my shame on the walls. In my own feces, of course. What else can one do when shit is this goddamn insane?
…actually, I want to leave y’all with a bit of good gnus…