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.
On the Eve of (CALL IT ALREADY, KORNACKI, YOU BASTARD) Victory, I’d Like to Say Thanks
My friends, please forgive me, I need to do something a little different tonight.
First of all, I don’t think I could possibly handle reliving this week; it was overwhelming and exhausting the first time ‘round, and besides, there are only so many ways to say, “and then I refreshed the page yet again, my intimacy with the county maps of Pennsylvania and Georgia growing so deep the disembodied outlines of Gwinnett and Allegheny haunted me in my fleeting moments of sleep.”
(Also, I drank a great deal, and feel certain I missed a detail or two. Last I remember, the Cubs won the World Series, and somebody found some e-mails on Anthony Weiner’s laptop…did I miss anything?)
Just to get the bare minimum level of chroniclin’ out of the way so the boss doesn’t ride my ass, yes, Tangerine Idi Amin, as expected, delivered his horrifyingly fascistic yet amusingly low-energy little speech, rejecting reality and democracy once and for all, inciting his shitbag cult to some rather frightening public displays which I pray don’t escalate any further.
But it doesn’t feel nearly so dangerous anymore; we all know a broken man when we see one. Y’know, for a career criminal who (ghost) wrote the book on one-way loyalty, somehow the dumb shit has been caught completely off guard by this heaping spoonful of his own medicine, administered by Mitch McConnell without even the courtesy of soothing airplane noises. Dolt.
I started tinkering with this post Tuesday night, when we were still a bit shellshocked by the unexpected composition of the electorate; when we learned the pollsters had once again failed to detect the seemingly infinite waves of the MAGA horde, like we were trapped in an old Gauntlet cabinet with more of the little fuckers than the stack of quarters mom gave us could hope to cope with; when the visions of sugarplum fairies and expanded courts dissipated, and American monsters seemed to lurk in every shadow.
I understand that to a great extent that emotional moment has passed, as we’ve watched the Biden/Harris landslide accumulate, vote by excruciating vote. We deserve our weekend of celebration and release; I personally plan on devoting most of my Sunday to just exhaling, possibly for 3-4 hours at a stretch.
Anyway, I don’t want to spend this moment wallowing in the filth of Trump and Trumpism, there’s plenty of that waiting for us in the days ahead, as a White House full of cornered rats chew through one another’s very flesh, desperately seeking exits that no longer exist. And of course one wants to block out adequate time to fully appreciate the splendor of the Dobbses and the Hannitys in decline, the tantrums they throw as reality’s grim hammer smashes their precious marionette to pieces. Certainly whichever streaming service offers me the best seat to observe Steve Bannon’s ongoing downfall has earned my subscription money.
Time for all that soon enough. Like I said, I’d like to do something a little different tonight.
I’d like to talk about you.
It’s been a tricky week to navigate emotionally, but you’ve absorbed Tuesday’s House and Senate disappointments by now and you’re ready for the new fight in Georgia. You’ve learned how to do that over the last four years, haven’t you? How to do take punch after punch, and periodically a sledgehammer, and just keep on coming.
We’ve all had to. The bastards’ plan, and I guess you have to give them credit for sticking to it, was to pelt us with shit every hour of every day until we broke down, but we didn’t break down. We took it, all of it, for four years, and we didn’t look away and we held each other up and we found, each of us in our own way, the ability to give as much as we had to give.
And it was enough.
It was just enough, actually.
Because holy shit, the hydra had a few more heads than we were expecting. More fucking heads than even Rasmussen dared to conjure. And a coalition we thought would frolic to a landslide turned out to be juuuuust big enough to deliver the map-changing statement win the nation needed.
Like 2016, the margin for error was narrower than we understood. Unlike 2016, we never took our eye off the ball, we worked every day like we were ten points behind, and this time, even the last-minute appearance of millions of surprise scumbags wasn’t enough to defeat us.
Which is why the pundits mocking the millions of dollars we sent to long shot campaigns like Amy McGrath’s and Jamie Harrison’s are so wrong. They’d have you believe that was folly. It wasn’t. It was hope.
Hope was not always easy to come by, with a President regularly inciting terrorism from the Oval Office, but you didn’t lose hope, did you? Okay, you did, once or twice, we all did, but when you needed a few days to put your head and your heart back together, somebody picked up the slack for you, and you returned the favor in time.
And yes, we hoped the voters of even the reddest states would see the stark disparity between what the two parties were offering this year and make better choices. That hope built this coalition, the largest in American history, and tonight I’m honestly kind of in awe at how that coalition turned out to be barely, but exactly what we needed to win.
Just enough young people were inspired to show up. Just enough NeverTrump Republicans put party over country. Just enough women and non-white voters turned out, and you have to believe that has something to do with the long overdue diversification of the party’s elected officials, particularly our talented and inspiring Blue Wave freshmen class.
And if we hadn’t won the Blue Wall state governments in the midterms, if it was loyal Trump stooges administering these elections and counting these ballots right now, could we trust the results to be the same? Remember how much work we did in 2018? Turns out it was worth it; we needed every bit of it.
I think we’ve learned the arc of history doesn’t bend towards justice on its own; it takes serious elbow grease to wrestle that fucker into place. It truly appears as though we needed every single drop of sweat from every single one of us, 75 million Americans giving everything they had to give, as one, together, to win this fight.
And from where I’m sitting, that means we couldn’t have pulled any of this off without your work, YOU, reading this right now. Without that Saturday afternoon you spent text banking, that cousin you talked into registering to vote for the very first time, that $5 donation you sent to a candidate in a district you’ve never once set foot in, Donald Trump might have ridden a wave of hate to a mandate to end all the best things about this country.
For the rest of my life, I’ll feel a chill down my spine, thinking about what that second term would have meant, with all the babysitters replaced by willing collaborators. This was no longer the Adam Sandler/Kevin James crew of bungling dipshits who couldn’t find the light switches; they’d figured out what they wanted to break and where the weak points were. Shit, they tried to destroy the entire fucking US Postal Service on a desperate whim, just to steal away our sacred right to fire them for their failings.
And whatever evil shit Bill Barr was cooking up in the dark corners of his fascist imagination…let me just say I’m thankful we won’t be shelving that particular book in the non-fiction section.
Because we beat the twisted fucks! And I truly believe, however great or small your contribution to the fight, we wouldn’t have won without you. And I hope that exorcises any lingering ghosts of 2016 for you, and I hope that in those long dark nights that come to us all from time to time, you remember the work you did when it mattered most, and the memory of it brings you peace. You deserve that. You earned it.
Anyway. Thanks for listening to me yammer on like this, we’ll get back to poo jokes next week. In the meantime, let’s get to work whoopin’ a couple of Georgia grifters’ asses, huh? Let’s reunite some families!
(Ok, for now let’s keep on waiting for the damn election to get called. I really thought it would’ve happened by the time I was done. Yeesh.)