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.
Welcome to Shower Cap’s Socially Distant Quarantine Shindig! BYOB!
Oh, man. I thought shit was cray back when we could leave our homes. Well, before everybody descends into Edgar Allan Poe-style madness, let’s round up the news, it won’t be so – HEY! PUT DOWN THAT AXE, BRO!
When last we spoke, the Velveeta Vulgarian had cleverly (in his own mind, if not here in the real world, where all us poor saps are trapped) attempted to stick his tiny, inadequate, finger in the dike of the rapidly-hemorrhaging economy, with a last-minute press conference, designed to hoodwink the markets with a rose-tinted view of his administration’s bungled response to the coronavirus crisis. Additional cracks manifested almost immediately, with Google responding to President Dumbass’ promise of an all-purpose testing site that also tracks your footsteps and juliennes potatoes by saying, “Wut? We never said we’d do that,” and damn, the crooked old bastard really doesn’t understand yet that he can’t lie his way out of this one, does he?
Well, the Surgeon General has finally focused his full attention on battling the coronavirus. Hang on, that’s not quite right, that should read “the Surgeon General has finally focused his full attention on battling the media, for reporting all of his team’s myriad failures in the fight against the coronavirus.” Hey asshole, the blood on YOUR hands is dripping all over our nice clean carpet, our nice clean tablecloth, and, oh yeah, our nice clean grandparents/parents/immunocompromised friends. If you don’t want to be criticized for fucking up, why don’t you try fucking up less for a change?
If there’s a Pulitzer for Outrage Porn, the Failing New York Times surely locked it up early, with their profile of an odious little turdgobbler down in Tennessee, hoarding hand sanitizer in order to turn around and sell it to desperate folks at enormous markups, essentially the pandemic version of a war profiteer. Look, I don’t wanna go too hard on an enterprising young fellow exercising his entrepreneurial spirit, I just think we should seize his every asset and put him to work in one of the field hospitals that’ll be popping up soon.
So, Shart Garfunkel’s stock-market-pummeling mid-week Oval Office address caused a panicked stampede of Americans traveling abroad, sending them scrambling to get back into the country before the dumb fuck could line airport runways with spikes or some shit, because OF COURSE IT DID. This was a 100% predictable consequence of that speech; a fucking HAMSTER would’ve watched it and gone, “Oh hey, there’s totally gonna be a big huge crush at airports handling incoming international flights, we should get ready for that shit.” But of course, nobody in the entire Turdmaggot Administration thought of that, because we are governed by folks with sub-hamster-level intellects right now.
Anyway, because nobody thought to prepare for the inevitable rush of folks looking to get home, airports were clogged with passengers waiting for hours in tightly-crowded rooms, and if any one person in those rooms happened to have the coronavirus, congratufuckinglations, now they all do. Since apparently not one member of this nougat-brained administration can think even ten minutes minutes ahead, maybe somebody should challenge the Germophobic Jerkoff to game of chess, with the Presidency on the line. Or Chutes and Ladders, even.
I never read any of the Shart of the Deal’s ghostwritten books, but I assume there’s a chapter titled “Never Under Any Circumstances Miss an Opportunity to Show the World You’re an Irredeemably Evil Shitgeyser,” because the greatest challenge of his presidency has been met by perhaps his greatest act of appalling scumfuckery, as the diarrhea-souled monster actually tried to bribe a German company into turning its research, and any potential vaccine, over to America…exclusively.
Dear God. No doubt, the Adderall-Addled Assclown fantasizes about sitting on a throne atop a mountain of corpses, dispensing vaccines, one by one, to suddenly submissive world leaders in exchange for groveling. “Don’t you regret those handshakes now, Emmanuel? Not so snooty today, eh, Angela?” Anyway, the next President should possess at least one thimbleful of decency, preferably more. Call me a bleeding heart libtard, it’s just what I think.
On Sunday, the Federal Reserve did some of that Federal Reserve shit that I won’t pretend to understand. Monetary policy on this level is sixty miles over my head, so headlines may as well read “The Federal Reserve decided schambrong the flumdoozle and lower the spoondangular hippostenoob, hoping to stave off economic catastrophe.” I’m just waiting for men in dark suits to knock down my front door and requisition my change jar; until that happens, I figure we’re not quite in end-of-the-world territory…yet.
Bad news, Resisters! Two-Time Winner of the Prestigious “Craziest Trump Surrogate” Trophy David Clarke is onto us, uncovering the dastardly plot by our Lord and Master, George Soros, to destroy capitalism and also ban bloviating nutcases from wearing crackerjack prizes on their jackets in sad attempts to cosplay third world generalissimos. Clarke is pissed off that Twitter deleted his rant, so maybe he’ll go back to his roots, and find some jail where he can torture babies and the mentally ill to death again.
Perhaps worried that the American people were placing TOO much faith in a federal government that has not only stumbled at every turn, but actually sought out heretofore undiscovered turns simply to stumble at them, Florida Senator Marco Rubio figured he would helpfully use his Twitter platform to dispel rumors of the imminent imposition of “Marshall Law,” in the event anyone was terrified about the possibility of conquest by a zombie army led by underrated character actor E.G. Marshall. It’s possible that Rubio meant to say “martial law,” but that would mean one of the young intellectual leaders of the Republican Party was an absolute moron who doesn’t even OH RIGHT I forgot, we live in Hell.
(I feel like if the entire Senate Republican Caucus was forced to sit down and take a seventh grade civics test, and the results were released to the public, the stock market would spontaneously combust.)
Both the American people and the American economy are in desperate need of emergency aid, so naturally Texas CongressDolt Louie Gohmert leapt into action to slow down that aid, in the name of whatever the meth-chugging gremlin that dwells in his otherwise-cavernous cranium happens to be screeching in his ear today. Cool. Isn’t there some clause in the Constitution stipulating that during times of crisis, the Single Dumbest Member of the Congress shall be locked in a supply closet to keep him from fucking shit up? No? There fucking well should be.
And of course, ever more extreme measures are being taken, around the globe, to slow the spread of our unwelcome new viral friend. France has shut down just about every dang thing; you’re no longer allowed outside for even a stroll, no, not even to flirtatiously chase after that one cat you’re absolutely sure is a super-sexxxxy skunk like yourself. Hell, even ISIS has ordered a moratorium on jihad-related travel to Europe! That’s right, campers, everybody who was out pub-crawling over St. Pat’s last weekend, congratulations, you are officially dumber than a suicide bomber. And probably twice as dangerous. Please handcuff yourself to a radiator until your fucking brain works.
Apparently there was a cyber attack on HHS on Sunday night, seemingly designed to interfere with America’s coronavirus response. To whichever hostile foreign power perpetrated the attack, like, the best thing y’all can do to achieve your goals is to ensure all Treasonweasel Administration officials are healthy, hale, and hearty enough to continue botching their jobs. You wanna spread coronavirus throughout the USA, send Alex Azar a care package, is all I’m sayin’.
Hey everybody, welcome to the Ventilator Hunger Games! Ventilators are about to become the single most precious commodity on Earth, one of the many things we knew weeks ago, and should have acted on weeks ago, but didn’t. So now we’re looking down the business end of a ventilator shortage that is going to lead to some very, very, very, awful choices.
Now, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, having failed in his duty to prepare for this entirely-predictable shortage, told America’s governors on a conference call to try to acquire the desperately-needed ventilators on their own, and while yes, it’s probably good advice to assume he will continue turning everything he touches to shit, like the 21st century Midas he has been every day since assuming office, it might also be cool if he actually DID HIS FUCKING JOB for once. Still, I guess it’ll be something, watching Jay Inslee and Ron DeSantis wrestle each other over medical equipment like a couple of Black Friday shoppers fighting for the last bread machine.
So yeah. Shit’s bad, and it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better, but hey, think of all the glorious Netflix binging you’ll get to do while the world burns outside your window!
In all seriousness, take care of yourselves out there, Shower Captives! Maintain social distancing practices, stay home when you can, and wash your damn hands! It’s gonna one crazy spring/summer, not in a girls-gone-wild-on-the-beach kinda way, but more of a twitching-while-watching-the-wallpaper-peel-off kinda way, but we’ll be here for each other…just six feet apart, is all.