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 Peach Tree Dish of Liberty Must Be Refreshed From Time to Time With the Ravings of Idiots
Scanning through the week’s insanity, I’m overwhelmed with unanswerable questions. Why do we live like this? Does it truly have to be this way? And wait, does this mean John Hinckley’s room is available? Because I could use the peace and quiet.
Can you believe it’s already been 100 days of shirtless rodeo clown savagery in Ukraine? What do you even get a genocidal dipshit for the anniversary of his biggest fuckup? I’d suggest a war crimes trial, but maybe a gift card? To one of the hundreds of companies he chased out of Russia with his mad thirst for blood?
Here at home, you could hardly sleep for the howling lamentations of Cult45, when their sad, cut-rate, diet, caffeine-free-with-extra-carcinogens Bob Mueller turned out to be exactly as incompetent as every other subpar creep they worship. Having faceplanted so pathetically in his frivolous prosecution of Some Guy Nobody’s Heard Of, what hope remains, I ask you, that John Durham is capable of bringing Hillary Clinton to justice for all the baby faces she’s noshed upon?
And the Michael Flynn unmasking kerfuffle fizzled out, too, so there’s definitely no joy in Wingnut Mudville tonight. I almost feel bad, but when your dominant personality trait is “easily deceived,” you have to expect this sort of thing.
Meanwhile, legal difficulties keep mounting for Turd Reich figures like Jared Kushner and Peter Navarro, further evidence of the American justice system’s unfair bias against prosecuting imaginary crimes in favor of real ones.
In defiance of all odds, I have somehow not yet lost my life in one of the 230-and-counting mass shootings that have taken place in the United States in 2022, but the day is young, I suppose. Before this paragraph ends, seven of you out there reading this will perish in some hail of AR-15 fire or other. Condolences to your loved ones.
(In addition, by the time any survivors arrive at this sentence, police officials in Uvalde, TX, will have changed their self-exonerating bullshit story no fewer than nineteen additional times.)
Because Oklahoma Republicans, in their wisdom, made it illegal to inconvenience a homicidal maniac in the slightest way, one of the nation’s many shitbag losers was once again able to procure a machine designed to expediently slaughter as many human beings as possible, and around three hours later, he used it to shoot up a hospital.
“Say, I’m looking to murder my doctor, and everyone who happens to be near my doctor, ideally before my current fit of rage subsides. Got anything for that?”
“But of course, sir! I’d offer to wrap it, but it’s clear you’re in a hurry!”
Of course, no amount of senseless suffering will force those responsible for the nation’s surge in child funerals to abandon their fanaticism. In fact, considering the predilection for insider trading in Yertle’s caucus of sociopaths, I’d hardly be surprised to learn that, say, Richard Burr held a substantial stake in some kiddie coffin manufacturer.
Given their commitment to doing absolutely fucking nothing to stop these preventable tragedies, you’d think Republicans would be swimming in free time, (in addition to the blood, of course) but the pious, theatrical gaslighting required to keep a white resentment cult in a state of perpetual sputtering rage is surprisingly labor-intensive.
It’s not that any of the indignant gibberish needs to make sense; quite the contrary, logic is filthy elitism you cuck; it’s just that fresh nonsense must constantly be generated, as each new atrocity further exposes the bloody, lunatic sham of right wing gun policy.
And Uvalde completely obliterated the myth of the Good Guy With His Holy Gun, as surely as if Jesus came back just to taint-punt Wayne LaPierre into the sun. There’s no cover left, just a pack of hyperventilating nutjobs who would happily send ten million children to early graves rather than surrender a single bullet.
So they pile their indecency onto shoulders already burdened with grief; their predictably foul shrieking about false flags, the demented decrepitude of their attempts to blame abortion or weed or oh let’s say Moe, and above all else, their unshakable resolve to guaran-damn-tee this shit happens again and again and again.
Ignored in all their wild-eyed plans to force children to crawl into classrooms via pet doors, each guarded by an entire platoon, is the helpful example set by the non-batshit, civilized world, where GUN CONTROL FUCKING WORKS.
Ah well, you can lead a Republican to reality, but you can’t make him…waitasec, what am I saying? You categorically cannot lead a Republican to reality, he’ll die with ivermectin dribbling down his chin first.
You sort of want some revered television journalist to sit Marjorie Taylor Greene down, in some overdecorated room, and have her walk us, slowly and in great detail, through the no doubt complex workings of the “peach tree dish.” How, precisely, does Bill Gates turn the peach trees into fake meat? What is the role of the dish in this process? Can it be any dish, or does it have to be one a colony of flesh-eating bacteria used to gain access to your cranium? People have a right to know this shit.
Especially since Marj used the extra attention generated by this latest episode of Lookit This Idiot to proffer her views on the issues of the day, such as, “Christian nationalism is rad, actually, and also, disagreeing with me makes you a terrorist,” for example.
…and Kevin McCarthy can’t wait to get this fascist twit back onto her congressional committees, which goes a long way towards explaining how he finds himself the subject of articles asking why more people don’t openly discuss his deficient intellect. (I confess, I assumed everyone did. And more or less constantly.)
Well, J.D. Vance and Paul Gosar are coming for your porno, ya filthy preverts, and don’t they seem like a pair of sexually healthy humans who should definitely be in charge of what people are allowed to wank to? You know Gosar uses some Cronenbergian apparatus involving terrifying, orifice-specific dentistry tools, and of course J.D. requires lubricant aid, in the form of his own tears, shed whilst contemplating the tattered, shit-stained remnants of his soul.
Good gravy, you know you’re emitting trench-warfare-level, banned-under-the-Geneva-Conventions loserstink when Herschel Walker, with his distressingly radical platform matched by a disturbing personal history of abuse, distances himself from your pathetic grifter ass.
Are we 100% sure Doug Mastriano is real, and not, like, six MAGA hats in a trench coat? He’s a busy little beaver either way, complying with investigations into his insurrectionist shenanigans by both the FBI and the January 6th committee, yet still making time to spout the craziest goddamn shit you will ever hear in your fucking life.
For example: Doug’s not a Nazi for working day and night to remove your constitutional right to elect non-Doug candidates, but you’re a Nazi for wanting to keep your children alive. What a nifty little trick that is!
Now, Dougie certainly seems like the sort of fellow who knows his way around a peach tree dish, but if it sounds like he wants to take away a bunch of your rights, that’s only because he does! But don’t worry, God sent him!
You know, I don’t think a governorship is such a good fit for this guy. Given the Mastriano: For a Post-Democracy Pennsylvania! theme dominating his campaign. Nope, not the sort of fellow you’d want running such an enormous swing state, ideally. May I respectfully recommend Josh Shapiro?
I suppose it’s only natural for a vindictive, regressive minority to target the machinery of democracy; it’s much harder to steal folks’ rights when they possess the power to replace you with someone who won’t.
And they’re really going for it, friends. There’s an organized effort underway to seize control of the nation’s election infrastructure in order to smash it to bits with bats and tire irons. That’s Bannonism, and if that happens to hit your ear as faintly rhyming with “rash schism,” well, I’m sure it’s just a trick of the wind.
Mastriano’s a big part of the movement. So’s Rayla Campbell, a maniac seeking the powers of the Massachusetts secretary of state’s office because she thinks Kindergarten teachers have taken to spicing up the ABC’s with fellatio tricks n’ tips from Cosmopolitan.
And yes, the Deposed Dotard’s Big Lie brigade got whooped in Georgia last week, and yes, that’s fantastic, but the primaries are a long way from over, campers.
And if this is all somehow too subtle for anyone, if anybody out there is still in denial about how many stanzas deep we are in that First They Came For poem, here’s a little article, which attracted distressingly little attention if you ask me, about the proto-Brownshirt Proud Boys infiltrating the Republican Party of Miami-Dade County. Why yes, the same Proud Boys that keep pleading guilty to great big felonies committed during the Capitol Riot, why do you ask?
Oh look, Michael Avenatti is going to prison, that’s welcome news, though I must take this moment to remind everyone that I called dibs on Hinckley’s cell.
Surely somewhere there’s a hole deep and dark enough that none of this insanity could reach me, but until I find it, I suppose I shall have to make do with a beer or six. Well, congratulations to everyone who made it all the way to the bottom without getting shot by a teenager! Keep your head down and maybe we’ll all be around to do this again next week*!