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.
Maybe the Real Red Wave Was the Litter Boxes Our Furry Kids Pissed In Along the Way
So, how fucking ready were you for this mood shift? I myself feel refreshed and renewed to a degree seldom seen outside shampoo commercials. And friends, I needed that. I needed it so hard.
We last convened amidst the cacophonous obscenity of the Republican Party’s closing argument before the midterms, a hideous mishmash of transphobic hate, threats to poll workers, bolder-by-the-day anti-Semitism, and cackling celebration of an act of terrorist violence targeting a political foe, and the truth is, I’d never been more frightened in my life.
No, not even on January 6th, this felt more…premeditated? This wasn’t We Must Accept This Butthole-Mouthed Thug’s Ugliness to Get Our Tax Cuts, this was Fuck Civilization Let’s DO This Thing Somebody Give the Order C’mon C’mon C’MON ALREADY.
What I’m saying is, I found the “romping Nazis salivating over the power to come” portion of the program unenjoyable. Stressful, even. Watching the little bastards stumble furiously about, running face-first into walls and flinging accusations at each other has been goddamn delightful, however.
Because the “red wave” turned out to be more of a hey-you-should-have-a-doctor-look-at-that bloody piss trickle on America’s shoes; a significant problem, certainly, and a revolting one, but maybe, just maybe…manageable.
The fight is nowhere close to over, and lord knows this wad of weirdos won more power than any truly healthy democracy would allow, but the coalition of the decent showed up, folks. America smacked the bully right in the mouth, mid-hammer joke, and it sure is satisfying, watching him scamper away crying.
When you work so closely with Donald J. Trump, (the “J” stands for “managed to fail at the casino business”) you come to expect a certain amount of mortifying failure, but you’d have to be the Greek god of stepping on your own dick to blow a midterm election in the middle of inflation like this. Fortunately for the future of freedom, we’re talking about a lifelong loser so starved for Ws, he’s spent years bragging about passing a cognitive test.
Yeah, the GOP let it all ride on the idiot game show host, and now they’re busted and trying to talk the pawn shop down the street into taking Stephen Miller for 50 bucks and a case of Heineken. Good. Thank all the gods in all the heavens that your despicable endeavors failed so spectacularly.
We turned back something scary, folks. Or at least gave it a good, sturdy kick in the nards. Something for Republicans to think about before they pursue these mad tactics again.
Because though a distressing number of election deniers won Tuesday, the biggest, darkest play, to seize swing state election infrastructure in the name of the voices in Mike Lindell’s head, flopped. Ring the damn bells. The fewer cultists in the vote-counting room the better, as my grandpappy used to say.
On a purely personal level, I’m thrilled to finally evict so many of MAGA’s skeeviest freaks from my cranium. My god, I won’t have to write about Doug Mastriano ever again, at least not until five years from now when he gets kicked out of a Denny’s for shouting slurs at the waitstaff.
I don’t have to think about Don Bolduc anymore, though I bet I coulda gotten some mileage out of calling him Senator Kitty Litter, had it come to that. I get to forget about Tudor Dixon and J.R. Majewski’s lawn and the television quack and the skull-faced Thiel puppet and I could keep going but I don’t have to anymore so I won’t. I bet the inside of my head even smells nicer now.
Parenthetically, I’d like to congratulate Tulsi Gabbard on her exquisite timing. Enjoy your new team, kid.
Anyway, since we’re in another of those moments of temporary lucidity when Republicans notice what a massive fucking loser Donald Trump is, they’re flailing about wildly for any less suicidal alternative, so I guess we can go ahead and call it: the two-year Criscolump slap fight between the Dotard and Ron DeSantis has officially begun!
Ron-Ron did win big on Tuesday, having catered to the Florida electorate’s lunatic desire to be lied into early graves, so he’s the savior du jour for the go-along gang, with delusionally messianic campaign ads to match.
Looks like Rupert Murdoch is fully aboard the DeSantis train, (no vaccination required, so ya takes yer chances), and even Mikes Pompeo and Pence have the knives out, and I bet the MAGA mob is totally willing to abandon their Turd God at establishment Republicans’ urging this time, that’s a really good plan. He can go by “Ron!”
Heard it all before. And sure, “DeSanctimonious” is weak as fuck; may this moment of smug theatre criticism warm you next time you find yourself sucking cheeseburger crumbs out of the carpet at Mar-A-Lago. “Lyin’ Ted” wasn’t exactly Shakespeare, but it turned a man with one of the most impressive resumés in America into a quivering mound of bologna jello.
It ain’t up to you. It’s up to the mob. You may’ve noticed there aren’t a lot of stories about mobs that spontaneously set down their torches and pitchforks and start listening to old men in suits.
Heck, Tom Cotton’s already abandoned the Unsettlingly Ambitious White Creep lane to Rick Scott and Josh Hawley, purely out of fear of one of those nicknames. A whole party of trembling sycophants, living in mortal terror of a doddering manchild’s playground taunts. Odd it hasn’t worked out.
And since Off-Brand Orbán cleverly backed himself into announcing his third campaign from atop the still-smoking wreckage of his latest debacle, we’ll be kicking off the circular firing squad right away. Wee, inadequate, baby hands notwithstanding, the old prick is pulling no punches; he even figured out a way to lob a racist insult at People Magazine’s reigning Whitest Man Alive, Glenn Youngkin. No doubt the GOP would love it if he’d just slink silently away, but hey, if you haven’t internalized the goddamn snake story by now, I can’t help you.
Anyway, there’s more than enough loserstink to go ‘round, as members of Donnie One-Term’s legal team learned this week, when they were sanctioned for one of their frivolous lawsuits. Can’t imagine that’s the last time we’ll encounter that headline.
I know you’re probably worn out from laughing at Donald Trump, but I need you to dig down deep, and find that second wind, because we have to laugh at Kevin McCarthy now. It’s always tricky business, getting Mephistopheles to cough up those wages, innit, Kev? Well, I suppose you weren’t really doing anything with that soul anyway.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be fun. You were gonna hand Ukraine to Uncle Vlad and kick Dems off their committees and map every mole on Hunter Biden’s ass and crash the whole dang global economy, but now you’re looking at a razor-thin majority at best, and Marjorie Taylor Greene says if you don’t get her one of them Jewish space lasers for her office, she’ll sic the Proud Boys on you, assuming the feral assclowns of the Freedom Caucus don’t get you first. The stakes in authoritarian musical chairs are no joke, lil’ man. You’re the one who insisted on playing.
Oh, and save some listless snickering for Rick Scott, who reportedly shelved what would’ve been an absolutely adorable challenge to Mitch McConnell’s leadership once the full scope of the party faceplant became clear. My condolences to the brownshirt men’s choir that spent six weeks rehearsing “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” for Ricky’s launch announcement.
While largely delightful, the news wasn’t all good, of course; far from it. And there’ll be plenty of time for that, I’m sure Kari Lake in particular has some well-rehearsed bullshit planned for the days to come, but for just this one week, I think we’re allowed to strut a bit. We deserve it.
Because the good news keeps rollin’ on in. Looka here, Alex Jones owes another half billion to the people he terrorized, and I had to stop watching clips of Steve Bannon melting down because the neighbors complained about the giggling.
Meanwhile, the mighty imperial legions of Czar Vladimir the Terrible (At His Job) are doing what they do better than anyone in the world: shambolically retreating. In the background, Elon Musk continues throwing the sort of tantrum one throws when one realizes one spent forty-four billion dollars to inconvenience Kathy Griffin. What a strange coincidence that so many of the modern Right’s icons of masculinity turned out to be blithering nincompoops, hellbent on self-destruction.
Yes, a rough week for fuckheads, asshats, and crotchtumors of all stripes. And I will drink to that, my friends. I am going to crack another Tank 7 tallboy and roast marshmallows in the bonfire Elon’s making of his fortune; you stay safe out there, we’ve still gotta send Herschel Walker packing yet.