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.
Look, Torturing Child Rape Victims Has Always Been the Whole Point of America
If you’ve ever read this blog before, you know the opening paragraph is always some needlessly verbose variation on “can you fucking believe how fucking crazy this shit is,” and I have never once needed to deviate from that format, because seriously, can you fucking believe how fucking crazy this shit is? If you were hoping this would be the week that ends that streak, well…DiMaggio ain’t got shit on me, alas.
Frankly, I’m surprised it took as long as it did for the inevitable post-Roe horror story, of a raped 10-year-old facing nightmarish obstacles to abortion care, to surface. Less surprising was the response by America’s right wing, which revealed both ethical deficiencies and mental health disorders at heretofore unimagined levels.
The first stage of wingnut propaganda is always denial, of course, and cries of “hoax” reverberated throughout the disturbingly effective media bubble that recently led god knows how many Americans to ingest livestock medicine. No one bothered to think that maybe the relative dearth of available information was due to entirely sensible laws protecting the anonymity of such young victims of such abominable crimes, because you have to be interested in telling the truth to do that sort of basic due diligence.
Still, when an inconveniently real arrest blew up their narrative, everyone promptly apologized, provided the definition of “apology” is “an immediate pivot to anything but contrition, ideally racist in nature.”
The shrieking heads over at Fux Nooz didn’t just feverishly spread disinformation at every opportunity, (though they remain leaders in the field) they went the extra stochastic terror mile, sharing the involved doctor’s name and face with their measurably-more-violent-all-the-damn-time audience, in case, y’know, any “disturbed loner” felt like running the ol’ George Tiller play.
So now it’s a bit of a race, between the crazed, bloodthirsty mob, and the flail-wielding, zealot state, to see who gets to administer punishment to this sinner, who dared to (checks notes) provide necessary health care to a 10-year-old rape victim. Indiana AG Todd Rokita couldn’t seem to keep himself off television, so eager was he to publicly proclaim his intention to prosecute, never mind the fact that he never bothered to check to see if the doctor followed the law, which she did. Better luck next time, Inquisitor.
See, this is what this creep has been waiting for his whole miserable life. And this is how he plans to spend every working moment, for the rest of his life: hunting down and punishing the women he’s always despised. Him and millions like him.
This whiff of theocracy, after so many years of grudging acquiescence to the principles of democracy and equality, has driven the revanchist minority into a frenzy, and they’re approaching the wide-open legal landscape like Hungry Hungry Hippos, desperate to gobble up as much power as possible while we’re still sorting out the chaos, the better to enforce their will upon a resistant public.
Because, as Montana crackpot/state Rep. Brad Tschida put it, with the eloquence of Ray Liotta in the dinner scene from Hannibal*, a woman’s womb “serves no specific purpose to her life or well-being,” so fucking OF COURSE the state is allowed to treat her like fetus tupperware. While it’s entirely clear the Founding Fathers never intended religious freedom to imply a right to pretend biological science is imaginary in order to justify the dehumanization of half the populace, it would appear Amy Coney Barrett disagrees, so here we are.
Indicted Texas AG Ken Paxton, eager to kill as many women as possible, sued the federal government, hoping to further limit access to abortion care, specifically in cases where the mother’s life is in danger. Senate Republicans blocked a bill guaranteeing the right to cross state lines in search of non-dominionist health services. And Ted Cruz helpfully reminded us of his vindictive cabal’s eagerness to claw back even more civil rights, with Obergefell next in their greedy, regressive sights. Because they will never, ever, ever, ever, ever fucking stop.
Thanks to the Failing New York Times, the cautionary tale of Ray Epps, targeted by the very hate cult he joined, is just, y’know…sitting around, waiting for anybody who might need t’hear it. Not unlike the widely ignored Frankenstein story. In case anybody out there is still capable of, or interested in learning.
Glancing at the sign in the break room, I see America has gone zero weeks without a news outlet publishing a terrorist-sanitizing op-ed, attempting to paint the goddamn Proud Boys of all people as apple pie-spattered, Norman Rockwell-designed, teddy bear guard dogs. Written, did I mention, by a Proud Boy’s wife. Not the choice I’d’ve made; I think we’re normalizing political violence at an alarming enough rate, thanks.
Speaking of the Proud Boys, and who doesn’t a love a week with multiple headlines referencing our burgeoning Brownshirt movement, the January 6th commission showed the world that video of Roger Stone taking their loser cosplay brigade’s pathetic, white supremacist “oath.” Always fun to have members of domestic terror orgs advising Presidents. Our democracy is almost too healthy, really.
Seems like the appropriate place to bring up the feral House GOP Conference unanimously voting against an amendment to the annual defense spending bill ordering the Pentagon to investigate white supremacist/neo-Nazi activity in our military. Also, all the current and former members of that military charged with crimes committed during the Capitol Riot. And the Oath Keeper “death list.” Because training violent insurrectionists in the ways of war seems a bit, I dunno, counter to the national interest.
One of the skeevy freaks of the alt-right incite-o-sphere called for a “Red Wedding” on January 6th, and as a bit of nerd/geek/I’m-wearing-a luchador-mask-for-pity’s-sake/dork, I resent these thugs appropriating my culture. Or any culture, really; the “we created western civilization” crowd never created shit. Creating is not their thing. Hurting people is.
And Paul Ryan wept. Apparently. That’s from the Book of Spineless Enablers, 11:35. But yeah, we’re told one of the chief architects of the civilization-devouring conflagration that is the modern GOP was momentarily moved to sorrow by the completely predictable consequences of his misspent life’s vicious work. How touching.
Honestly, I was almost grateful for the crude, geopolitical slapstick of the John Bolton interlude. Ol’ Murderstache can’t get his pants on without stepping on two or three rakes, which goes a long way towards explaining his Turd Midas contributions to the flow of human history.
Well, well, well, looks like Steve Bannon may be one slug the salt shaker’s finally caught up to; his legal stall tactics have almost run out, and now leaked audio (it should be illegal to publish “leaked” and “Bannon” in the same headline, by the way) reveals the Stoopid Coo ringleaders plotted from the very beginning to Just Lie, Baby, blowing yet another cavernous hole in the “Donald Trump was but an innocent fawn, who opposed the peaceful transfer of power for unspecified but totally noble reasons” defense.
And I guess when he’s not stumbling around Marm-a-Lago, absentmindedly tampering with witnesses, the Deposed Dotard spends his days plotting the launch date for the third presidential campaign he believes will keep him out of prison. Y’know, if somebody’d just subtly place, say, a wood chipper at the bottom of the escalator this time…
So, the cornered rats of Trumpworld think they can stick Mark Meadows with the soggy cracker and slink away, huh? I mean, excellent choice; Marky Mark’s a walking confession, and he richly deserves all the comeuppance the universe can muster. And to the lingering collaborators, what can I say but…(lightly taps NYT Epps profile).
Still, the Mark Meadows Miles Over His Head in Fascist Bullshit subplot has been a personal favorite. Can you fucking believe, this overmatchedest of all possible cretins attempted to cajole a resigning staffer into sticking around, because “we’re actually going to be staying.” That’s a whole lotta misguided confidence for a fellow working off a blueprint designed by Sidney “No Reasonable Person Would Believe Anyone as Batshit as Me” Powell, and Rudy Giuliani, in his How Many Four Seasons Could There Possibly Be phase.
“Dr.” Ronny Jackson, one of the very smallest of the many small men who yielded to Donald Trump’s corruption with no resistance whatsoever, whimpered that the infinitely more decent of the two Presidents he served sent him the I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed letter he’s earned ten thousand times over. Honestly, I think I’d be willing to accept a little more oppression if it meant being spared the whining.
Speaking of the institutional rot that is Donald Trump’s first and only successful endeavor, I guess the Secret Service wants us to believe their mega-suspicious deletion of texts from a certain blustery, January Wednesday was Just One of Those O-So-Normal Things™️, and, speaking as someone who was born yesterday, I’m inclined to take them at their word.
…especially after Cassidy Hutchinson’s testimony regarding Wee Donnie One-Term’s manchild meltdown got confirmed. Say, did that on-the-record refutation ever actually go down? No? Why, it’s almost like the offer was only ever designed to muddy the waters in the immediate aftermath of the most damning testimony yet regarding a criminal conspiracy perpetrated by idiots who frankly left us too much evidence to keep straight.
None of their manic tactics actually worked, which strikes your humble, bathrobed blogger as a solid reason to abandon them, for those unmoved by the whole “right and wrong” thing, anyway; but of course, “ineffective and morally repugnant” is the GOP’s policy wheelhouse, so it’s full steam ahead on electoral cheating. New York gubernatorial candidate Lee Zeldin got caught submitting 13,000 invalid, mostly photocopied signatures, in an effort to procure an extra spot on the ballot, as a third-party candidate; and then Colorado Congressthug Ken Buck got his fascist ass recorded asking a party official to straight-up submit fraudulent election results. Kinda makes you wonder how much fuckery is going undetected, huh?
Herschel Walker’s Senate campaign has been like an Advent calendar; every day, you open a tiny, perforated, cardboard door, and behind it is a fresh, new example of the ABJECT FUCKING MADNESS of the idea of electing Herschel Walker to the United States Senate. Anyway, dude’s take on air pollution put in me mind, for whatever reason, of the kid who sat next to me for most of first grade, who did not outgrow his booger-eating phase during the period of our acquaintance. Vote Warnock.
Lauren Boebert’s shrine to psychopathy, the “gun-themed” restaurant that propelled her to MAGA stardom in the first place, has closed, alas, so if you’re looking for someplace in Rifle, (yes, “Rifle”) Colorado to get hammered and bust a gut every time anybody shouts, “let’s go, Brandon,” well, there’s always the parking lot behind the laundromat, where Eddie from high school sells meth, which is doubly convenient, now that I think of it.
Now, considering the Category 5 shitstorm documented in the preceding 7,292 paragraphs, the week’s good news is as unsurprising as it is encouraging. Turns out, these loony Republican candidates are as close to broke as they deserve to be, while their Dem opponents make like Scrooge McDuck, (Beto, in particular, is making it rain) proving the American public has no intention of submitting docilely to dirtbag idiot supremacy just yet.
And that excites me. And I hope it excites you, too. And I hope it inspires folks to join the Do the Damn Work camp, because maybe there’s easier self-satisfaction to be found in the Whine About Joe Manchin camp, but the work remains either way.
With that, the sweet release of craft beer beckons, so I must leave you. Stay safe out there, my friends, and we’ll return to our regular Shower Cap time next week, same Shower Cap channel.
*Don’t look that one up if you’re squeamish, by the way.