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.
The One Where We Learned Jared Kushner Was Cool With COVID-19 Killing People in Blue States
Trying times, friends. I don’t know about y’all, but I’m right on the brink of discovering precisely how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of my fragile sanity. Ah yes, I believe I feel the beak of the owl crushing down on my skull even now…let’s get the news in before I shatter.
In open defiance of a recent Supreme Court ruling, the Checks Are For Cucks and So Are Balances Administration has been rejecting new DACA applicants, because we’re just not going to have the rule of law between now and the election. Personally, I wouldn’t be doing donuts on John Roberts’ lawn if I knew I’d be begging him to throw out an election and keep me in power in just a few short months, but expecting long-term thinking from these clowns seems unfair at this point.
Because he is such a good little servant, Donnie Two-Scoops pulled out his crayon-scrawled register of PEEPUL TO GET BACK AT WHILE ME AM STILL PREZIDUNT, and compared it to Uncle Vlad’s Xmas list, in order to set priorities for his dwindling term. “Sticking it to that haughty Angela Merkel woman” was a point of mutual agreement, and so the U.S. is withdrawing 12,000 troops from Germany, wasting billions of taxpayer dollars in the process. Putin has reportedly gone into hiding, because he believes being photographed while tap-dancing with glee would undermine his carefully-crafted strongman image.
In his doomed quest to win back college-educated white women, Tangerine Idi Amin has commandeered an ice cream truck, and embarked, drenched in sweat that reeks of tanning lotions and cheeseburger grease, on a whirlwind tour of suburbia, shrieking about Joe Biden’s evil plot to abolish apple pie and friendly father/son games of catch, panicking more and more as he learns these people aren’t nearly as frightened and hateful as he desperately needs them to be. Yeah, Brad Parscale was the problem alright.
Everybody’s giving Government Cheese Goebbels grief because he’s too chickenshit to tell Putin, “Hey, it would be really cool if you could maybe stop putting bounties on American soldiers’ heads,” but to be fair, it’s extra tough to stand up to your boss in this job market. Also, as a practical matter, there probably just isn’t time after all the sniveling and groveling. ”C’mon Vlad, you promised, I took the troops outta Germany like you wanted, please gimmie some dirt on Joe Biden, I can’t make anything stick, Vlad, PLEASE, we both know I can’t handle prison!” And then Meadows bursts in with a stack of shit to sign. You know how it is.
Going local for a minute, some shitty white kid called Will Dismukes resigned his post as pastor of a Baptist church, though not his seat in the Alabama state legislature, when he got caught attending a birthday party for dead Confederate/KKK loser Nathan Bedford Forrest. Y’know, back when I was a theatre major in college, there’d occasionally be some pretentious douche who wanted to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday, or Marlon Brando’s, or John Cazale’s if he was particularly tedious; this is the white supremacist version of that. These are dork klansmen, throwing the lamest theme parties on God’s green earth.
My least favorite trope in this nightmare reality show is probably the inevitable shitgeyser that erupts every time Littlefinger delegates anything important to his idiot son-in-law. Kid Nepotism’s latest game of Fantasy Chief of Staff has of course come at the expense of the nation’s coronavirus response, and if anyone has any as-yet-unpopped forehead veins they’re looking to preserve, I suggest you look away now, because it turns out one big reason the United States failed so spectacularly and disastrously in the early days of the pandemic was Jar-Jar’s sociopathically misguided belief that the only really dangerous outbreak zones were in blue states, so it would be good for his team politically to just LET THE VIRUS KILL PEOPLE, and then blame Democratic governors in the aftermath.
Now, that’s not only evil, but epically fucking stupid, VIRUSES CAN’T READ MAPS, JARED. Fuck, even the Paul Reiser character in Aliens would call Kushner a cretinous little nitwit, everyone can see it, everyone…except the President of the United States.
So that one pizza guy, the one who doesn’t understand economics and sexually harassed a bunch of women…Herman Cain. He’s dead now, because he caught Covid at that one place everybody told him he was gonna catch Covid, and it killed him, because that’s what Covid does. I’m sure you have a few pearl-clutchers in your feed insisting that we must treat Herman’s self-inflicted demise with great somberness and respect. Fuck that.
What Herman Cain chose to do with the end of his life was vile. He engaged in a deliberate effort to trick people into extremely unsafe, indeed possibly lethal behaviors. He told his followers that what he was doing, namely gathering indoors in the middle of a city experiencing a heavy coronavirus outbreak, without masks or social distancing, was safe. No doubt many of those followers trusted Herman, and some of them are sick or even dead right now. For those people, I feel sympathy and sorrow. For Herman Cain, well, he was trying very, very hard to hurt people, and now he can’t hurt anyone anymore. My mourning card has been booked up for months, sorry.
And now the Dumbest Man in Congress, Louie Gohmert, has tested positive as well, in spite of his extremely impressive public stance against mask-wearing. I confess I’m confused here; surely the virus finds such manly defiance intimidating; we all know there is no basic law of science that isn’t subject to immediate suspension when faced with a sufficiently masculine doubter, proclaiming “nuh-UH” with a puffed-out chest. That’s just how the universe works…in the Freedumb Caucus, anyway.
Of course, Louie is SO dumb that his existence isn’t defined by the mere absence of intelligence, but the often-violent projection of anti-intelligence, and thus, he can’t just admit, “I was wrong, folks, this virus is REAL, and it is DANGEROUS,” no, he has to bellow, “IT WUZ THE MASK WUT DONE IT” as he’s dragged off to quarantine. If there are no supply chain issues, I’d like to order a round of cognitive tests for Texas’ entire first district, please.
Panicked as his electoral prospects wither like his own dusty scrotum, Sharty McFly is pretty much just flipping through famous dictators’ biographies looking for ideas at this point, and so this week he finally floated the notion of delaying the election, as we always knew he would. The optimism boggles the mind, as though a few more months spent percolating in the lake of raw sewage he dropped on our heads would win converts as we grow accustomed to the smell.
I suppose he still believes the problem will mystically resolve on its own, that his ghostly father will one day appear before the coronavirus’ accountant, and with his astral checkbook offer a sum so large the disease will simply retire to the French Riviera. Guess he’s just afraid Daddy’s gonna wait until mid-November, one last I Never You Loved You before dragging him away to the Great Military School in the Sky.
Like most of his endeavors, Weehands McNodick’s pathetic attempt to redirect the media’s attention just as Barack Obama began his eulogy at John Lewis’ funeral failed spectacularly, and the world watched the former President’s speech, overflowing with grace and righteousness, with the sort of nostalgic longing seldom found outside Kenny Chesney lyrics. You realize, old man, Obama has barely begun to tear you apart on the virtual campaign trail, right?
Well, looka here, the Department of Homeland Security has been compiling little intelligence reports on American journalists covering the shenanigans in Portland. Considering DHS’ I Can Haz Secret Police? actions there, I can certainly understand their fervor to keep the homeland safe…from journalism; obviously it’s much easier to disseminate propaganda when there are no inconvenient videos of your own stormtrooper bullshit, but to bastardize a phrase, who secures the homeland from Homeland Security?*
Going one giant, dark step further, the Department of Justice is asking the courts to lift an order protecting journalists on the ground in Portland, alleging that there are just oodles and oodles of antifa super-soldiers out there pretending to be journalists, blah blah blah the point here is that the Van Disappearance Squad is asking for legal permission to start bashing reporters’ heads, and y’know, I don’t think we should give it to them.
Oh, and now hurricane season is bearing down on our Covid-ravaged shores? Luckily we’re experiencing a historic leadership surplus, so dealing with any storm damage’ll be easy-peezy, we’ll just have Ron DeSantis declare victory a few days before landfall, and move on with our lives; it’s a time-tested 2020 tactic.
And of course, President Crotchrot is still using all his tiny-fisted might to choke the life out of the coronavirus once and for all only not the coronavirus but rather the Post Office. Wow, the authoritarianism plotline and the pandemic plotline keep mingling in ways that would be really fun and interesting anyplace other than real life, don’tcha think?
Fuck. It’s no fuckin’ fun out there, is it, Resisters? But we’re in the home stretch now, we can tough this shit out, right? I think it was Aristotle who said, “The last 96 days of a game show host autocrat’s reign are always the toughest, but the beer will never taste better than it does on that 96th day.” So hang in there.
*I’m worried I didn’t say “homeland” enough in this paragraph.