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.
Watching Donald Trump Lose, Over & Over Again, in Slow Motion, Isn’t the Worst Thing
Just on an emotional level, I find myself grateful for this transition period; if we switched from daily hate rallies to Biden-y normalcy overnight, we’d get the bends, surely. I guess I’m enjoying the leisurely stroll out of Shitty Wonderland, reminiscing about all the fucking horrors we’ve witnessed here. And even stumbling across a few new jagoffs along the way:
I know what these deadenders are attempting right now is technically kind of a coup, and I’m sure there’s always some risk that one of these new judges they scraped off a Federalist Society urinal will rule that voting Democrat is unconstitutional, but so far, it’s been perfectly schadenfreuderrific.
Like an aging slugger on a baseball team that’s fallen out of contention, the Velveeta Vulgarian is swinging for the fences, looking to pad his stats and cement his legacy as the GOAT…at losing in court. These cartoonishly frivolous election lawsuits never had any chance of succeeding, but as a passionate consumer of the burgeoning Flailing Failing Fascists genre, I appreciate the dedication to creating the content I crave.
Like, I fucking LOVE this thing where powerful conservatives, one by one, issue that “it sure was fun, but it’s time to fucking leave, you colossal loser” statement; every single time it’s like reliving the moment the election was called. Karl Rove, Geraldo, Whichever Koch Brother Is Still Alive, all part of the slow, steady abandonment of the vanquished manchild tyrant; you have to chuckle at all the disingenuous praise and condescending handholding as they ease him into his new reality, like a misbehaving toddler they’re trying to trick into the dog’s crate so they can abandon him on the side of some back country highway.
House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy is a notable exception to this trend, dimly parroting his Turd Emperor’s ridiculous propaganda, because when you’re the walking exemplar of Unjustly Elevated White Male Mediocrity, perpetuating kakistocracy is a matter of self-preservation. Kev wants America to give the drooling QAnon zealots of his incoming freshmaniac class a chance, even as Marjorie Taylor Greene announces her arrival in Washington by scaling the first available flagpole to pelt the locals with her own feces.
Yes, subtraction by addition is the name of the game in the Republican Party these days, and Alabama’s incoming Senator wants you to know the institutional brain drain won’t be confined to the House. Yes, Tommy Tuberville introduced himself to America as a man quite literally incapable of graduating from the third grade, and honestly, I’m choosing to celebrate the all too brief stretch of time when even the electorate that chose Jeff Sessions and this clownish football person saw, and recognized, the value of a good, good man like Doug Jones. May such days come again soon.
Anyhow, Smilin’ Joe Biden isn’t waiting around for a crayon-signed permission slip from his bunker-bound predecessor to begin assembling his team. the President-elect announced his coronavirus task force, filled, in a radical departure from current practices, with elite medical experts rather than the more traditional gaggle of boot-licking idiot yes men.
In addition, Old Handsome Joe named Ron Klain as his Chief of Staff. Now, Klain is not only incredibly qualified for this crucial post, but his experience as Obama’s Ebola czar is especially pertinent for the immediate challenges ahead. An excellent hire.
Wow. I’m so used to writing stuff like, “Impressed by an 87-minute anti-immigration Youtube rant he discovered by clicking a pop-up ad on a scat porn site, the President hired a white nationalist used mattress salesman to lead ATF; also, he was so blown away by the guy who beat him sixteen straight times at three-card monte on the sidewalk in front of the White House that he’s Secretary of Commerce now.”
…gonna be hard to keep this blog going under Biden, is all I’m saying. And you’ll never find anyone happier to be put out of business.
I actually can’t wait for the Boring Competence Show to take over my time slot, because the state of the pandemic is absolutely horrifying tonight, with damn near the whole country experiencing uncontrolled spread. Hospitals are filling up, and even old friends like PPE shortages and nursing home outbreaks are swinging by for uninvited winter visits, because learning from recent mistakes is for cucks, I guess.
Taking lessons from Vlad Putin, COVID-19 has weaponized the American public’s apparently insatiable appetite for disinformation, and while Donald Trump is technically still president during the lame duck session, it is the coronavirus that is the nation’s unofficial Daddy.
Now I understand that denying the objective reality of the pandemic was central to President Crotchrot’s campaign pitch (this is, after all, Hell), but now that the election is over, there’s really no reason to continue the murderous charade; just a quick, simple, “Hey everybody, wear masks and maintain social distance!” would save tens of thousands of lives, here on the brink of what looks to be a truly tragic winter.
But of course, even when you get past the mendacity, there’s still the sociopathy to deal with, and so we will face this rising crisis without a shred of assistance from the federal government, because the President of the United States is too busy fantasizing about his revenge on Fox News to help out, you see. (Oh, and OAN, I know you’ve turned his head for now, but in time he’ll leave you, too, for a younger, crazier propaganda outlet, you’ll see.)
Donnie Dotard’s farewell treat to the brave patriots of the Secret Service was, naturally, another round of Covid, because he’s cheap and the virus is free and, God knows, readily available, and also he ran out of old Xmas presents from Junior n’ Eric to regift.
Actually there’s plenty of coronavirus changing hands (lungs?) through the Shart House Secret Santa program. Corey Lewandowski, Don Young, and a whole ‘nother round of shitbag staffers caught it, likely at their own election night party, because they’re too fucking stupid to take simple, universally understood precautions, even in the company of known superspreaders…it’s pretty cool that this bowl of assholes won’t be in charge soon.
Of course, there’s still Rand Paul, ranting like an itinerant preacher on a college campus about throwing away masks and other equally nutty shit, and boy howdy, Trumpism sure did a number on young Rand, didn’t it? Once a stodgy libertarian scold, he’s really let his hair down and gone Full Death Cultist lately; it’s like some late 90’s Julia Roberts vehicle filtered through Lou Dobbs’ NyQuil nightmares.
Ok, look. I get that we’re Democrats, and that means a steadfast commitment to finding the grey cloud attached to every silver lining, but everybody understands we don’t have to jump straight to the self-flagellating postmortems during our hard-earned victory party, right? Like, at least finish your cake, y’know?
I just want to point out that today was the day all the news networks officially called Arizona and Georgia for Biden and Harris, and I say that’s a perfectly valid excuse to start celebrating all over again. It’s a new map we’re building together, a new path forward for a new America. Between Georgia, and Arizona, and the absolutely historic fucking landslide in the popular vote, we’re allowed to strut. We should strut.
Anyway, I see Shart Garfunkel emerged from his basement long enough to take another feeble stab at claiming credit for the Pfizer vaccine, tossing in a little spite towards Governor Cuomo before fleeing questions on how he felt about losing so very, very, very hard, like the great big fucking loser he has always been.
Ok, that’s an appropriate amount of madness for the moment, I think. Go ahead, slide on into that weekend, folks. Maybe even turn off the news altogether, I’ll keep an eye on the bunker for ya…between beers, of course.