I hope that like me, you’re still enjoying the hey-that-wasn’t-so-badness of the recent midterms, though of course there’s ample fuckery to discuss tonight. On the Right, it is a time of reflection. Or it would be, if anybody’s brain still worked over there.

They’re doing another one of those How in the Bright Twinkling Fuck Did We Blow This autopsies, but they recruited Christian nationalist venture capital ghoul Blake Masters for the “advisory council.” Good luck. Watching the chum from the red wave that wasn’t settle at the bottom of the tank, you cannot but be awed by the pure, incandescent unteachability of these people.

And certainly, the intersection of fascism and failure is not one where top drawer talent tends to congregate, but the future of the GOP looks…hoo. Bit grim.

After failing damn near every test of basic human decency for years, expectations of political courage from the Republican Party are appropriately low, but I feel like the Ye/Fuentes dinner was like the teacher taking pity on the paste-eating kid and giving him a sticker for spelling his name right.

And yet.

So, the former Kanye West’s public breakdown slash Neo-Nazi media tour swung by Mar-a-Lago for a dinner party, with prominent anti-Semite Nick Fuentes in tow. That’s an easy one, fellas. Do you realize how fucked up it is, how warped your party has become, that any of you did anything except condemn it, at the top of your lungs, at the earliest opportunity?

Especially here, in the immediate aftermath of the third consecutive election this idiot game show host’s fashy shenanigans cost you. Cognitive test-passing abilities notwithstanding, he’s not exactly a hot prospect with a bright future, y’know? Can y’all just take the goddamn off-ramp, pick up a fucking bucket, and join the rest of us in fighting the fire y’all started? Please?

No, somehow it took still more vileness from Ye, a stream of babbling bigotry that shocked even Alex Jones, to make the House GOP recant their allegiance to America’s most famous Jew-hater, so that’s another Tootsie Pop we finally got to the center of. Congratulations on barely beating out Parler, by the way.

That’s about where the Republican Party lives these days, just outside Parler, and I don’t think you should need an autopsy report from Blake Masters (though he keeps a couple under his mattress) to figure out how America got so sick of your shit.

Lookin’ at YOU, Arizona Republicans. Goddammit you guys, must we really do this? No off-ramps will be taken by the Republican Party of Arizona, no fit shall remain unpitched, but you can’t make anyone pay attention to your tired act. The brief, feeble rebellion of some rural county whose name I refuse to look up garnered less attention than a frivolous macaroni lawsuit, or Mitt Romney’s all too fleeting beard, but by all means, keep trying to make Kari Lake happen.

Hey, maybe America’s just sick of loud, crazy, hateful assholes, ever think of that?

Look at the way your shitty little movement responded to the mass shooting in Colorado Springs. Look at what Ben Shapiro said. What Matt Walsh said. What Herschel Walker said, on the campaign trail. If your stomach can take it, watch Trump attorney Jenna Ellis’ obscene take.

Loud. Crazy. Hateful. Assholes. When you put it like that, the electoral drawbacks seem clear, don’t they?

Think about that while you wheel Herschel around Georgia Weekend-at-Bernies-style, ducking new abuse allegations and hoping no reporter corners you on the divisive werewolf/vampire issue. Your moms must be so proud of you.

Ah well, I wouldn’t worry, not with Kevin McCarthy’s steady hand on the tiller. He’ll lead you through these turbulent times, he’s real good at leadin’, just give him a minute to finish capitulating to Fuentes associate Marjorie Taylor Greene; she needs her committees back, y’see, if he wants her support for Speaker, and oh yeah, also a blank check from taxpayers to “investigate” every internet hoax she falls for. (And folks, she falls for ‘em all.)

Thing’re gonna change ‘round these parts under Marshal McCarthy, you’ll see. They’re gonna READ THE CONSTITUTION OUT LOUD WHY DON’TCHA CRY ABOUT IT LIBTARD and admittedly it gets a little murky after that, but the Constitution-reading part, that’s down in INK. They’re gonna read the shit outta that Constitution. That and Marjorie Taylor Greene’s committees. Consider it a contract, America.

Maybe the future of the party is Mike Pompeo, who’s bold enough to e’er-so-lightly criticize his old boss, though never ever ever by name, like some Ministry of Magic functionary J.K. Rowling doesn’t want you to respect. When he’s not busy cowering or groveling, Mike enjoys picking fights with teachers’ unions, and deluding himself that doing so will help him get elected President.

While we’re on the subject of Republican leadership, please tell me there are debates in the RNC chair race. Scalpers could charge me whatever they wanted to watch Mike Lindell spar with Ronna Romney? I Don’t See Any Romneys over the issues of the day.

Incidentally, Madison Cawthorn, destined to be remembered as “too big a loser for the McCarthy caucus, ouch” offered some parting wisdom on the issue of masculinity, in case anybody couldn’t get into the Kyle Rittenhouse seminar.

Twitter’s still in rich-kid-smashing-his-new-toy-against-the-wall-wondering-why-it-won’t-work mode. Elon, mobilizing the full capacity of his genius intellect to combat his advertiser flight problem, restored Covid disinformation, as well as accounts suspended for hate speech and inciting violence, including, of course, the Dotard’s, and several prominent global brands were crushed to death in the ensuing stampede to line up to sponsor the entirely predictable wave of slurs that followed.

And while Wee Donnie One-Term would surely love to return to his older, much larger platform, he’s locked into his sad, shabby knockoff, which has somehow failed to achieve cultural dominance under the leadership of cow-vanquished sycophant Devin Nunes. Which is surely unwelcome news for anyone attempting to wring profits from a $44 billion investment in an online playground for blackpilled dipshits. And once again we find ourselves at the limit of the loud, crazy, hateful asshole model.

What else, what ellllllllse…I always like to drift off at night to the slow, steady pitter-patter of Donald Trump losing in court. House Ways and Means finally got ahold of those covetously guarded tax returns, part of a broader trend of cynical stall tactics finally playing out. Oh, and Aileen Cannon’s courtroom is not, after all, a one-stop shop for recently dethroned autocrats who need large, clumsy crimes retroactively legalized.

Speaking of the rule of law, look out, federal prison system, there’s a new subpar softboi gang headed your way, and I hope you’re ready for a lot of tedious arguments about whether or not there’s a constitutional right to have your birthday cake baked in the shape of Mike Pence hanging from a gibbet.

Yes, Stewart Rhodes and his doofus buddies got their cosplay revolutionary asses convicted of some big, fat federal crimes, including seditious conspiracy. Seditious conspiracy. Can’t wait to see what Texas school boards strip from the history textbooks when they get to this year, y’know?

Meanwhile, Joe Biden’s quietly doing Joe Biden stuff: winning elections, creating jobs, and delivering overdue changes to the Democratic primary calendar, all without sharing a single meal with a single Nazi. But by all means, ask Blake Masters to help you unravel the mystery before you. I hope you’re paying him.

I will be conducting my own autopsy, of the craft beer sampler in the fridge, by Sunday at the latest. You stay safe out there, friends. Oh, and the paste-eating kid was me. Obviously.