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 Presidents Day, You Say? Nah, I Believe Putin…Owns the Current Guy.
I confess it’s hard to enjoy this holiday when it feels like we’re all trapped in a bad 80’s movie titled “President’s Day,” directed by Stanley Kubrick from a National Lampoon script, starring Rodney Dangerfield as a rogue artificial intelligence that gains supreme executive power and tries to destroy humanity while periodically screaming “I get no respect.” Anyway, since you’re here, we may as well do the news…
Well, the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits declared his precious little “state of emergency,” in what I’m now told was actually a press conference, and not, as I initially believed, an extended audition for a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest remake. Seriously folks, that this drooling idiot wasn’t tackled at any point by a flock of cabinet secretaries screaming “IT’S 25TH AMENDMENT TIME, MUTHAFUCKAAAAAAS!!!!” really tells you all you need to know about the character of the Ben Carsons and Steve Mnuchins of the world.
Anyway, the Velveeta Vulgarian helpfully volunteered the information that his fabricated border “crisis” is in no way an actual emergency, and do you ever wonder if maybe his whole Presidency is just an insanely detailed plot to drive his attorneys to madness and suicide?
Two of those attorneys appear to have lied to the Office of Government Ethics* about hush money paid by the Fascist Farthuffer’s Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, during the 2016 campaign. Fear not, House Oversight Chair Elijah Cummings is on the case, as the Oversight Renaissance rolls on and on and on.
Disgraced Hot Tub SpokesGoon Matt Whitaker, fresh off a congressional hearing that has since been pitched to the networks as the pilot for a show titled Fuck ‘Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader’ How About ‘Are You Smarter Than a Dismembered Human Toe?’, has landed a new gig at the Justice Department, collecting a fat taxpayer salary to continue the important work of Finding Out What the Feds Have on his Cheap Grifter Boss.
Looks like former Massachusetts Governor Bill Weld has taken on the tragic task of mounting a primary challenge to Tangerine Idi Amin, and thereby destroying once and for all the NeverTrump movement’s pathetic delusion that there was ever a Republican Party that read long, dry, essays about deficits or trade or privatizing social security, and passionately championed the ideas they found therein, rather than a slobbering white supremacist hate cult, hungry for an authoritarian thug to punish perceived enemies. I am seriously worried that when Weld drops out after Super Tuesday without winning a single state, Bill Kristol will shatter like a dropped brandy snifter at a Hampton’s fundraiser.
We learned that the Mueller investigation finally got around to asking Sarah Huckleberry Slanders to quantify just how much treason she’s witnessed during her tenure as a gaslighting sockpuppet for the cabal of treacherous crooks squatting in our White House. You sort of hope Rugged Robert started the interview with a smirk and a quick, “So who had the larger inauguration crowd, Obama or your guy? Don’t forget it’s a crime to lie to the FBI.”
Vice President Mike Pants went to Munich for a big fancy security conference, and when it was time for his speech he went, “Alright y’all, put your hands in the air and give it up for Mr. Donald J. Truuuuuuuuuuump!” only to be met with this stoniest silence in the entire history of the universe. Seriously folks, this was truly magnificent silence. Silence that SCREAMED. Silence that said, clear as a bell, “Fuck you and the horse you road in on, also eat shit, eat all the shit on Earth and then never brush your teeth again.”
Ratfucker Prince Roger Stone, staring down the business end of a prison sentence that’s likely to end any lingering internal debates about where to spend his retirement, figured now was the ideal time for thinly-veiled threats of violence against the judge overseeing his case. Smart fellah.
‘Course, I can understand why ol’ Rog is so skittish these days; word is, the Special Counsel has evidence of Stone sliding into WikiLeaks’ DMs, looking for some hawt collusion action. On top of that, he even (allegedly) two-timed everybody’s least favorite poorly-groomed fugitive from justice, with Guccifer 2.0, so yeah, one of the President’s oldest and closest associates was chit-chatting with Russian intelligence during the campaign, but I’m sure it was mainly gossip about whoever Tay-Tay was dating.
Speaking of jailed associates of the Grand Wizard Grifter, Paul Manafort is SAD that he’s facing even more prison time for his many, many, crimes. Yeah, bud, jail looks really shitty. That’s one of the big reasons people don’t go around committing as many crimes as you did. But hey, if you want to wheel yourself out to performatively demonstrate how unhappy you are to be dealing with the consequences of your role in fucking up my country, I say “thank you sir, for providing me with this delightful content, MOAR PLEASE.” If somebody can give me a live stream of Precocious Paulie weeping into his prison oatmeal while characters reminiscent of the cast of OZ menace him, I will fund that Patreon account, ‘kay?
And speaking of the Bobadook, I hope he went to Costco for those subpoena forms, cuz he’s really burnin’ through ‘em these days. The latest recipient of the most sought-after gift in high-class traitor circles is former Cambridge Analytica director Brittany Kaiser, who surely has some tales to tell. In totally unrelated news, Steve Bannon has been googling “How to make gin in a prison sink.”
It’s looking more and more like John McCain was one of Lindsey Graham’s horcruxes, because the onetime NeverTrump Senator’s public calendar keeps filling up with go-on-TV-to-unapologetically-stooge-for-raw-evil-type events. Lindsey’s so horny for his Turd Emperor’s useless wall that he’s not only cheerleading for the totally unconstitutional power grab, he’s looking to build the stupid thing with funds that had been earmarked for the construction of a middle school in Kentucky.
Look, middle school sucks, everybody knows that. It’s when they take away recess and lock you up with all the other little shits and try to teach you the scientific method and make you read To Kill a Mockingbird while you go through puberty and inflict lifelong psychological trauma on one another, but unlike the Big Dumb Wall, it’s something we actually need, Lindsey, so kindly take a seat and shut the fuck up for once.
If by chance Stephen Miller awoke from a fitful slumber Sunday morning, and greeted the day by proclaiming, perhaps in song, “What I want more than anything in the world is to have Chris Wallace eviscerate me and then force-feed me my own intestines live on national television,” then boy oh boy did he get his wish. Now, while I certainly enjoy watching that skeevy little imp squirm, remembering that Miller, who doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together but propels himself through life purely on the power of his boundless, snarling, hate, still has the ear of the American President is…not my favorite thing about the state of the world right now.
Heather Nauert withdrew from consideration as Ambassador to United Nations, not because holy shit was she unqualified for the post, but because she once employed a nanny who wasn’t legally authorized to work in the U.S. Well, they got Al Capone on tax evasion, so I’ll take it.
In a move destined to secure his spot on the Mount Rushmore of Cringe, it seems Weehands McNodick called up Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe one night to say “Hey, I don’t want to be weird about it or anything but if you weren’t busy later it would be really cool if you could, I dunno, maybe nominate me for the Nobel Peace Prize?” and Abe rolled his eyes and did it, because these days, tending to your country’s national security means handjobbing a narcissist’s frail ego from time to time.
An additional display of Presidential confidence n’ strength came when Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet declared a second national emergency because Saturday Night Live made fun of him again. In a way, Alec Baldwin is the canary in our totalitarian coal mine; as long as there’s somebody around to talk Donnie out of throwing Alec in jail or outright assassinating him, there’s still hope the Republic will endure.
Throughout all the weekend’s other madness, Andrew McCabe’s been out there, waving his arms, trying to get literally anyone’s attention, like the scientist in the first five minutes of the movie who sees the asteroid hurtling towards the planet, but everybody treats him like he’s nuts, and later he gets a split-second “toldja so” reaction shot before all life on Earth is obliterated.
McCabe went on 60 Minutes to tell an amusing little after-dinner anecdote about an FBI official briefing the President on the nuclear threat from North Korea, and hitting a wacky snag when the assessment of the American intelligence apparatus ran counter to what Little Donnie Two-Scoops had heard from his BFF, Vladimir. I don’t remember how the whole story went, but the punchline was, “I don’t care, I believe Putin.”
I don’t care. I believe Putin.
Can I just ask, why didn’t the whole goddamn world come to a complete stop the minute those words were broadcast? Like, why isn’t the entire U.S. Congress changing into their impeachin’ pants right now? If the nuclear codes are in the hands of a dude whose foreign policy is the Whatever Vlad Says Doctrine, we have a real fuckin’ problem, folks. I mainly just don’t want to be drafted into the War to Conquer the Baltics for Uncle P, y’know? I think I feel my bone spurs acting up…
I see Anthony Weiner got out of jail, free at last to rejoin the world he damn near single-handedly fucked up back in 2016, when his inability to control his perverted impulses landed his laptop at the FBI, prompting Jim Comey to prioritize the needs of his own ego over the nation’s stability and send that stupid fucking letter to Congress that the whole godforsaken world is still paying for two years later and I’m not saying Weiner should be launched into the sun no wait I’m absolutely saying Weiner should be launched into the sun. To be clear: SOMEBODY LAUNCH ANTHONY WEINER INTO THE SUN.
And down in North Carolina, a public hearing exposed the schemes “Pastor” Mark Harris financed to steal the NC-09 House seat from the voters, with a Republican operative confessing to a whole shit-ton of super-illegal ballot tampering. Harris is still, darkly if hilariously, demanding that his tainted “victory” be certified by the State Board of Elections, which is decidedly not what Jesus would do.
Look, I know none of y’all need to be told that Mitch McConnell is an evil, enabling, fuckhead, but if you felt like reading an editorial about what an evil, enabling, fuckhead Mitch McConnell is, well, I am your hookup.
The madness never stops, my friends, and during the drafting of this blog, Roger Stone kinda sorta apologized, or at least his lawyers did, and a bunch of states sued to stop the Marmalade Shartcannon’s tyrannical emergency declaration, though nobody seems to have launched Anthony Weiner into the sun as yet.
So that’s where we are, folks, and it’s only Monday. And it’s only February. I’ll remind you the groundhog saw his shadow, so we’ve got an extra ten months of Hell this year. And people wonder why I drink.
*Ah, ethics. Remember those?