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.
Thirty Two Short Films About Hating Taylor Swift
Hey there, everybody. I know it’s been a bit of a week, and there’s a lot to get through, so if anyone needs to step outside to hate Taylor Swift for five minutes, I totally understand. Go for it.
Don’tcha just HATE TAYLOR SWIFT? So much? Aren’t you literally overwhelmed by the urge to fill the internet with your intricate calculations connecting her to your George R.R. Martin-esque conspiracy theory about the globalist cabal that feminizes men to keep ‘em docile?
Huh. I’m starting to think maybe you never really wanted to make America great again at all.
Because in MAGA culture, all the good little girls and boys dutifully hate Taylor Swift, like it says in the Bible.
And every now and then, one of them snaps and decapitates their father. Just like in that Bible story, where that one apostle, recognizing his dad as an agent of th’Deep State, murders him, and displays his severed head on the internet, pleasing the Lord.
Yes, it’s a holy culture war they’re a-wagin’, and not at all a fit pitched by aging incels. And in a culture war, who needs pop icons or championship athletes when you’ve got dusty spitebuckets like Ted Nugent and Jon Voight?
Like any out-of-work-actor, Voight seized the tiny spotlight he’d tumbled backwards into to deliver a new audition monologue, about Saint Dotard the Unjustly Maligned, who was “destroyed as Jesus.”
People have killed and died for this soft, shabby shit. The Freewheelin’ Jon Voight, voice of a generation. What an embarrassing fucking cult. Dad-decapitating weirdos.
Incidentally, let me congratulate Real America, on that $50 million y’all dropped on that rapist’s legal bills. Seems to me a billionaire rapist could pay his own legal bills, but I know the rube tithe is sacred in your culture. Your super cool culture where everyone gathers on Sunday to yell at the singer and her boyfriend.
Fifty million dollars.
Fifty million dollars to pay Alina Habba to lose 83.3 million more.
How is there no buyer’s remorse? Ever?
Fifty million bucks to pay shameless idiots to stall, while RNC fundraising craters. Perhaps that death cult wasn’t such a clever investment after all.
We’re starting to piece together the falling Turd Reich’s office culture, fueled, apparently, by the candy store Dr. Ronny Jackson ran out of the Lincoln Sitting Room, where even the Diet Coke Steward was rapey.
Gosh, I just can’t figure out how things turned so toxic, in that cult that worships a rapist. You know the rapist, the one who throws the same sad, flaccid, don’t-you-know-who-my-father-is tantrum at every woman who challenges him. The rapist who’s lifelong friends with that sex-trafficking wrestling promoter.
Honestly, given the culture of rapist-worship, it’s surprising more of them don’t decapitate their parents.
A rare overseas stop on the Never Ending Donald Trump Legally Faceplants Tour, because I guess he wanted to hear what it sounds like to get laughed out of court with a British accent.
Taylor Swift should do a song about the Steele dossier. As part of a concept album where she comes out as a Pentagon psyop, and confirms every single QAnon delusion, via irresistible ditties about dumping Proud Boys. Two discs. Real proggy.
I suppose we should check in on Congress, aka MyPillow Presents Mike Johnson’s Tales From the Border. They want spikes n’ alligators now, because of course emotionally stunted people propose cartoon solutions.
Especially when the point is not to solve, but rather to highlight, exaggerate, and whenever possible, exacerbate the problem. The Oklahoma GOP censured their own Senator for working to solve the problem.
Can’t solve the problem, y’see, because that’d make it harder to reinstall the rapist in the White House. “Why, we couldn’t possibly help our constituents!” sputtered Chuck Grassley, “They might vote for Joe Biden! Instead of the rapist I work for, the one who tried to overturn the last presidential election!” Looks like a really rewarding life, Charles. Dignified.
Anyway, yeah, it’s the Impeach Mayorkas Show, which offers the core audience a sufficiently foreign-sounding villain. Consumers with edgier tastes may prefer the Pinochet helicopter fantasies of U.S. Congressman Mike Collins, or the unapologetically hateful ramblings of Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick, featuring talking points lifted from the El Paso shooter’s manifesto.
Politico tells us Kevin McCarthy is now devoted, body and soul, to revenging himself upon his enemies within the caucus that brought his political career to such a hilariously just end. As something of a connoisseur of circular firing squads, I’m really looking forward to this one.
Like, we get the end of Nancy Mace’s congressional career, or we get to watch one of ascendant American fascism’s shittiest enablers fade into irrelevance before our eyes. Can I see it both ways before I make up my mind? Is there a version that winds up in herky-jerky, suburban dad fisticuffs on Matt Gaetz’s lawn?
Charlie Kirk is a Central Park Five truther now. Or he was for a minute, until he returned his lawyer’s texts. Either way, he’s certainly committed to TPUSA’s Alt Right rebrand, “now with double the racism!” (Wow, and there was a TON of racism in the old version!)
Seems One America “News” Network may have engaged in illegal activities while spreading that Big Lie that caused all the hullabaloo down at the Capitol. A rare stumble for the notoriously ethical right-wing propaganda industry.
Poor Marjorie Taylor Greene can’t seem to get her censure motions to the floor fast enough to keep ahead of the debunking of the disinformation justifying them, but she sure does like hollerin’, doesn’t she?
Indiana state Representative Jim Lucas flashed a gun at some high school kids during the impromptu debate he lost. So, y’know…the MAGA bench is deep.
Meanwhile, even Larry Kudlow has succumbed to the smooth, sensual rhythms of…Brandonomics. And who can blame him? Team Biden keeps grinding out these even-sexxier-than-expected jobs reports, and yeah, it can make you feel a little funny down in your nether regions. Little warm.
We’re told that behind closed doors, Joe refers to his once and future vanquished foe using appropriately profane language. “Sick fuck,” “fucking asshole,” “turd-gargling taintmaggot,” that sort of thing. Nothing the fact-checkers wouldn’t bless.
He likes to slide a zinger in now and then while he’s “reading Beowulf to the Ayatollah.” And then Beowulf said to Grendel, “Boy, what a bag of crusty dicks is Donald Trump, amirite?” We wouldn’t know any of this, by the way, were it not for the brave testimony of Deep State whistleblower/fast food chain mascot/actual fucking Senator John Kennedy.
Before I let you go, it’s time for what a reader charmingly referred to as the “beer grift,” wherein I, a downtrodden cockney lad without access to anything so extravagant as a Dr. Ronny Jackson, beg you, the reader, to throw a couple bucks my way, (now accepting Venmo, PayPal n’ Cash App) that I might wash away the memory of allllll this shit on a wave of sweet, merciful beer.
Or you can follow @john_luzar on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, or join the email list at showercapblog.com. Dedicated Shower Captives can even pre-order my WWII comic book, Marguerite vs. the Occupation! I’m told this is a TREMENDOUSLY IMPORTANT CUTOFF WEEK for pre-orders, so act now or know eternal regret.
Or you can say, “I don’t owe you shit, Shower Cap,” which is true. Whatever you decide, I’m gonna go crack a cold one, and read Beowulf to the Ayatollah. You stay safe out there. Don’t decapitate your parents!