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.
Hey, Did I Miss Anything?
Well, hello there. Been a minute. Let’s see if I remember how to do this. Orange Man…good? Do I have that right? Anyway, I’ve returned from summer vacation, ready to resume the fight to take the country back from the busloads of socialist groomer antifas, and make America so goshdarn great again.
Hmmm. Might be a bit rusty. Well, I’ll figure it out. Have you lost weight, by the way? Your ass looks great in those pants.
Hope I didn’t miss anything too important. Like maybe an unceasing cycle of increasingly inane culture war thinkpiece skirmishes over some rando’s country song? Or, I dunno, some former President and his dipshit co-conspirators getting indicted on a whole buncha felony counts?
I confess, despite years of reading and writing about these dorks, I was unprepared for the intensity of the shitfit the Children of the Candy Corn pitched at the sight of that mugshot. What a delightful meltdown. Historically, it has been necessary to procure a golden ticket to the Wonka factory to witness such wonders.
Jesse Watters dry-humped the photo in Tucker Carlson’s old chair, moaning ecstatically about how “good” and “hard” inmate number P01135809 looked, in addition to super-convincing proclamations of his own “unblemished record of heterosexuality,” before inviting RFK Jr to join him in a rousing game of “soggy mugshot.”
Dinesh D’Souza thinks it makes the Dotard “the ultimate gangsta.” Laura Loomer expressed the agreed-upon view that getting booked in what she refers to as “the blackest jail (in) the state of Georgia” magically delivers the Black vote on a silver platter, which I think demonstrates the intellectual prowess of the white nationalist movement rather elegantly.
Yeah, I bet that’s what happens, Laura. I hear Jim Clyburn’s gonna switch parties and endorse at the next Unite the Right rally.
Now Sarah Palin wants a civil war, and I think if we agree in advance to provide humanitarian aid, in the form of a few Hereford ranches’ worth of dewormer, we can leave the rest to natural selection.
Mugshot merch is all the rage, of course. Gotta have the latest t-shirt on while you’re chanting “lock her up” alongside all the other rubes, right? “Hillary for Prison” is so 2016.
Still, I grudgingly congratulate the guy for weighing in at a svelte 215 pounds at the time of his arrest. (Stormy Daniels swapped gigs with Daniel Dale to provide fact-checking on that claim. And though I’m generally a Dale fan, I suggest you pass on his end of that bargain.)
Anyway, Tangerine Idi Amin hoped to delay his many trials until such time as Elon could make good on that promise to deliver brain-swapping technology, (so THAT’S what Eric is for!) but, as in all his endeavors, from denuclearizing the Korean Peninsula to taming the wily umbrella…he failed.
And so we have a trial date. March 4th. rIGhT BeFOrE suPeR TuESDaY, so primary season in the land of bomb threats targeting libraries just got even zanier, which makes me extra grateful that so many of the Very Proudest of Boyz will be spending this election cycle (and the next one and the next one and the next one) in time out.
He’s just worried he’ll miss Chris Christie’s concession speech; and sure, “just DVR it,” you’re thinking, but imagine how difficult it must be to operate a remote control with those stunted, ineffectual phalanges. You heartless bastards.
When Team DiSappointus named their super PAC “Never Back Down,” you knew there was no fucking way the universe’s many hubris-abhorring gods were gonna let that shit slide, and sure enough, they’re already pulling door-knockers from key states. Too busy harassing nosey 15-year-olds, y’see. Roomer has it the candidate will be dropping out soon, anyway.
DeSantis worked hard to transform himself into the sort of fellow who gets booed at a vigil for victims of a hate crime, because you can’t get anywhere in Republican politics without being the sort of fellow who gets booed at a vigil for victims of a hate crime, but possessed as he is with the inescapable gawkiness of birthday clown on the sex offender registry in the uncanny valley, Ron finds himself losing ground to the more personable bigots.
Which brings us to the latest belle of the MAGA ball, who, owing to the front-runner’s cowardice, had the braying jackass lane all to himself at the first debate. Vivek Ramaswamy blathers endlessly on like a chatbot that’s been fed nothing but Breitbart op-eds, Ashley Madison profiles, and low-quality meth, so naturally, an increasing number of Republican primary voters want to invest him with the authority to launch nuclear strikes.
Ramaswamy spouts so much stupid, stupid shit, even Fox has started calling him out. His foreign policy ramblings have been proclaimed “criminally stupid” by no less an authority than Marc Thiessen, who was undoubtedly thrilled to find himself on the other end of that designation for a change.
Devastatingly, in the midst of this increased scrutiny, Ramaswamy will no longer be permitted to lose himself in either the music or the moment on the campaign trail, because he doesn’t own it, Eminem does, and it seems Mr. Mathers is understandably less than eager to see his work associated with a fashy little twerp’s bid for power.
Just a heads-up: if Vivek compensates by debuting a karaoke rendition of Rich Men North of Richmond, I’m retiring. Anyway, though denounced as a false Slim Shady, he still managed to procure the coveted O.J. Simpson endorsement.
Couldn’t help but grin at the headline “Super PAC mounts major effort to carry Burgum back to the debate stage,” because that was actually the backup plan for Sisyphus, if it turned out he was somehow really into rolling boulders uphill.
Meanwhile, Kevin McCarthy’s trying to bribe the Chip Roy wing of his feral caucus with the prospect of an impeachment inquiry he lacks both the evidence and the votes for, but Chip won’t bite, saying he believes not shutting the government down will give his dog autism.
Yes, here in the most advanced nation in human history, damn near 40% of the dog-owning public thinks “vaccines could cause cognitive issues in dogs and may lead them to develop autism,” because it’s not enough anymore to simply take that suicide dive from our perch atop the food chain, we’ve got to drag everybody else down with us.
Tennessee House Republicans voted to silence the previously expelled, since reelected Rep. Justin Jones, in case anybody thought previous outbursts of racist authoritarianism were outliers brought on by spoiled fish in the Capitol cafeteria.
What else, what else….CPAC and Project Veritas are rotting to death from within, and Mike Lindell had his line of credit cut off, but somehow the Consequences Fairy still has time to visit the Giuliani household damn near every day. Santa’s a cuuuuuuuck.
I find myself envying future generations the experience of reading the inevitable multi-volume Rudy Giuliani biography. What a satisfying ride that will be. Book One: Rudy Fucks Around charts the rise of an authentic American monster, as he attains wealth and power, and worse, acclaim and admiration. By the time he’s Time Magazine’s Person of the Year and presidential front-runner, the reader will be grinding their teeth at all the unchecked fuckery.
Then along comes Book Two: Rudy Finds Out, which picks up at Four Seasons Total Landscaping, and delivers 500-or-so pages of sweet, slapstick comeuppance. “But Grandpa, there’s no way the Borat thing really happened, right?” and I’ll just smirk a little smirk and unwrap another Werther’s Original.
Anyhow, Rudy’s been found liable for defaming a pair of Georgia election workers, and word is Jack Smith may charge him with operating an autogolpe with a blood alcohol concentration over the legal limit, oh, and also he was possibly compromised by Russian intelligence, according to an FBI whistleblower.
Well, I made myself write out “I will take the high road regarding Mitch McConnell’s health struggles” on the blackboard 5,952 times, but what ultimately enabled me to persevere was my long-standing determination to resemble the ghouls who hang out with Laura Ingraham as little as possible.
Hey, filthy communists! If you want Ted Cruz’s Real Murican beers, which are definitely not Bud Lights, COME (to Cancún) AND TAKE ‘EM! They are manly, explicitly anti-woke beers, and he will be drinking WAY MORE of them than two a week, no matter what Fauci mandates! TED WILL NOT COMPLY*!
I see Clarence Thomas finally fessed up to being Hitler-collecting American oligarch Harlan Crow’s sugar baby, allowing him to return, with a clear conscience, to the important work of imposing Harlan’s policy preferences on an unwilling public.
If anybody needs me, I’ll be camped out in front of whatever venue winds up hosting the first debate of the Arizona Republican Senate primary. Blake Masters vs. Kari Lake? Dear lord. What’re they gonna argue about, the date JFK Jr. finally comes back?
Well, missed a few stories, might take me a couple weeks to get back into the swing of things, but it’s a start. Cap’s back, bay-bee!
Hey, I’m running behind, so I’m not going to be as eloquent as I’d like, but I do want to thank everyone who reached out with a message of support after the ol’ pre-hiatus breakdown. I read every word, two or three times over, and I can’t express how much they meant, at a time when I really fuckin’ needed the encouragement. And the beer, of course.
The time away was, as I’d hoped, rejuvenating, and I suppose I’m as close to working my shit out as any of us ever are, so let’s get back to work. Ascendant American fascism isn’t gonna shovel itself onto the ash heap of history, y’know…
Oh, and I’m making a half-assed attempt to rebuild the following on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, ahead of some comic book activity. @john_luzar if you’re interested.
*Unless you insult his wife and father first.