Somehow, possibly due to various cursed objects I have unknowingly acquired over the years, I’m sick again.

And I fucking hate this pigshit elemental, her stupid pig-soul and her nasty pig-fuck feet which are, somehow, the most normal and relatable thing about her. So this isn’t going to be some well-researched 5000 word essay to touch the depths of your vulnerably human heart and fill you with big feelings about humanity.

I’m just going to tell you why Marjorie Taylor Greene is sounding vaguely sane these days, and not quite as much like an Innsmouth cultist wharrgarbling her way through DC like. Well. A white lady space laser.

Ok, so yeah, I get it. She’s sounding vaguely able to be allowed out on her own recognizance and not like the chittering mating grunts barfed up by the Chaotic Evil lovechild of a Beholder and a bottle of peroxide.

And everyone Wants to Believe. Because in the 20s, believing a Republican heart has grown three times its size due to finally seeing the error of their ways requires pretty much the same mindset as actually believing, point for point, Fox Mulder’s pinwheeling, luminous wet dreams in the 90s.

Fucking stop it. DO STOP BELIEVING. SHUT UP, JOURNEY. IT’S FRIDAY AND I’M TIRED.

Is she still insane? Oh, she probably never was. Just an adulterous asshole who loves nothing. Is she still conservative? I mean, is she still the aforementioned pigshit elemental trying to turn the rest of the world into her personal pigshit trough upon which to endlessly gorge? So yeah, still conservative. Is any of this genuine? Shut up. Don’t be stupid.

Is she aiming for a foothold on a leftie grift instead of the infinite rightie blood-money mine that disgorged her? Doing the thing that was so lucrative Back In the Time Known As the Day when any semi-decency-curious Republican was hailed as a Lion of the Resistance? It might be a good thought, but the pipeline is not quite so well-greased anymore BECAUSE WE’RE ALL EXHAUSTED WITH THE LIONS BEING TRASHPEOPLE IN LION-SUITS.

Plus, look, I don’t know how to tell you this if you don’t already know, but the left, being not so much into capitalism, is also not so much into paying for things. And the right is super into that, because they have wild fever dreams every night of they themselves being the One Who Knocks Gets Paid For Being a Superdick 24/7. So…probably not, when MSNBC is the only even plausibly non-rightwing dinosaur-channel and Hasan can’t even electrocute a dog on camera without woke snowflakes quietly wondering if maybe there was another explanation.

Is it all about running for President and/or Senate?

Ehhhh. Maybe that pissed her off. Maybe it was a good excuse. But that’s not what’s up. She’s an idiot, but she’s not actually stupid.

And that’s the most controversial thing I’m about to say.

Come now. Let us be civilized men. We all got the memo that America hates women so much they would literally vote for fucking anyone over a woman. The Xenomorph from Alien. The resurrected corpse of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. An LLM originally trained on Hanna Barbara cartoons and nothing else. Willy Wonka, post-human-trafficking trial. God damned Pennywise from IT. Anyone.

No one doesn’t know that, including the Eternal Ruiner of a Perfectly Good and Universally Recognized Magic: the Gathering Acronym, Marjorie “Tool Time” Taylor Greene. And I don’t really think she gives a shit about the Senate on any level beyond “I’m tired of doing the whole ‘democracy’ thing every two years, six and I always get re-elected sounds way better.”

Nah, here’s what she’s up to.

Hey! Do ya know what’s fun?

Being the very well-paid performatively crazy asshole in a room full of normies who continually clutch their pearls at your antics.

Do you know what isn’t really any fun at all?

Being the performatively crazy asshole in a room full of performatively crazy assholes, each of whom stands to acquire more money, power, and fame the more bugfuck unearthly gibbering lunacy they spout in the direction of the Chief Clown of the Evil Clown Car, who just loves getting sprayed with a firehose of madness on the daily.

When the Jewish Space Laser lady is having to compete—AND LOSING—for the coveted position of the loudest, most uncouth, most unqualified violently fascist maniac in a massive shrieking, writhing pit of unqualified violently fascist maniacs?

Aw. You guys! She has the Sad! She has to actually work instead of just brain-barfing up whatever hot liquid poison she found on 4Chan and calling that policy. Working SUCKS! Especially when you don’t get any credit for all your hard grinding for the master. When he doesn’t even see what you do for him. How you abase yourself. How you sacrifice every part of a normal life you ever valued. When you lay yourself naked on the altar of Satan for the pleasure of His Name and Satan himself looks upon you for just an awkwardly long time before intoning:

Nah.

Poor baby bear! That must suck.

Wasn’t it just so much more fun when any time she randomly mouth-sharted in the direction of a recording device it made the national news and went viral on all the totally-not-astroturfed social medias? Man, what a great gig. I wish I could make millions not doing my job while feeding narcissistic sociopaths the half-digested remains of KiwiFarms like the hideous All-Mother of a Thousand Seagull-Young.

But now?

Lil’ Templeton the Rat isn’t getting any attention. She doesn’t get to rip words she barely understands out of the internet and hand them to someone way smarter to actually make something out of these days. She actually has no voice at all in this administration, and Baby’s First Bratz Doll really thought she would, for the same reason, apparently, FUCKING WAY TOO MUCH OF AMERICA thought they would.

1. When Trump hates the precise kind of human I am (eg a woman, a poor, brown, gay, and/or literally everyone who isn’t him), my big snuggly protective bear daddy doesn’t mean me! I’m special!

2. When Trump specifically looks me in the eye, tell me he fucking despises me, personally, and says no to all my dreams, I still won’t take any actual action against him, even words. Because words can hurt, y’all!

3. It’s gonna be basically like the first time when a bunch of crumbling establishment dinosaurs were running things and I’ll still skate by.

Oh no, my lady! This time, everyone in the administration is an unqualified, constantly-hallucinating, bonkers-racist/sexist/whatever-you-got Temu Renfield who can puke about locally-sourced Atlantis-flavor adrenochrome, and, so sorry for our players at home, that’s not even the current meta anymore!

So she can’t stand out. She can say the most unhinged spatial-anomaly-level battered star-shit and frankly, it’d rank like fifth in the news of the day. She’s been outgunned by Actual Vampire Peter Thiel. When a dude who controls half the internet and is just frankly and publicly acknowledged as a person who imbibes the blood of other persons to extend his own life is building his Barbarossa Dream House inside the right (I mean, what, he’s gonna choose the left?) ear of the President of the United States, where a dumb stegosaurus-toed bleach blonde bad-built butch body bitch gonna go from there?

Well. As it turns out…she did find a way to be the craziest voice in the Electric Bugaloo administration. By sounding vaguely normal and sane.

That IS the craziest thing you can do in TrumpWorld. Just sound a little normal. Get a Business Female Blow Out and wear a Serious Person Black Suit. Go on The Shows and just say regular fucking shit because out of that hellsphincter it sounds like Karl Screaming Marx come back to bless us and lift us to the light.

Also, just between us Normal People, look at those anchors looking at her exactly the way a dog looks like a cat that’s suddenly acting like a dog.

Oh but isn’t it curious how everything that ichor-waterfalls out of her fang-hole like one of the Event Horizon Latin demons makes national news again.

Funny, that.

Marjorie Taylor Greene has not changed her act one fucking bit.

It’s just that sane is the new crazy in the Grand Guignol Theater of Vampires that is the second Trump Administration.

She just can’t get attention for barn owl screeching about Jewish space lasers anymore (in part because half the left would believe her) so she’s done the only thing no one else who works for Trump these days is willing to do, the single bridge too far: pretend to have normal opinions about issues, expressed normally, in normal media, which, coming from the political fucking equivalent of LARGE BLOODY MARGE sounds like soothing nature sounds because we’ve spent the last ten years non-consensually subscribed to WORLDTOILET TERROR TORNADO SOUND EFFECTS.EXE.

The report is this Clairol Zombie is semi, tepidly, tentatively, coyly saying things Bad Dad wouldn’t like if he ever heard about it, which he doesn’t because, let’s be real here, she’s not hot, for Mar-a-Lago standards of hot, and that’s all he cares about, because he told her not to run for Senate.

SO SHE ISN’T GOING TO RUN.

Oh, what a new leaf this fucking stump has turned over! This crawling sycophant, on her belly before the Serpent King. She’s a free citizen! Run, Forrest! But Papa Ubu said no, so she grovels and obeys—but on the school playground, she can’t even bring herself to whisper: Teacher sucks! she just mumbles something about the juice selection at the cafeteria and expects to be seen as a badass rebel who’s really showing true leadership now for some reason.

Yeah, nope. She’s just doing whatever she can to stand out. Not because she’s in danger of losing her office. The empty streets of brainfuck Georgia aren’t going to vote for a Democrat, heaven forfend, am I right, fellow Graboid-spawn? Because she’s addicted to the dopamine rush of being hated like pure fire by everyone who doesn’t worship every twitch of her non-Euclidean feet.

For someone who was stuck as an unemployed CrossFit greaserat (YEP) before sacrificing a lot of really nice goats who loved their babies to get elected to Congress, that dopamine rush is beyond any heroin addict’s deepest fantasies. It really didn’t matter how anyone felt about her, she was seen. She was verifiably real. The existential void of profound meaninglessness was kept at bay, as long as people were saying her name online, every second on-the-second.

Now the existential void of profound meaninglessness absolutely has Trump’s blessing to run for Senate in any state it likes, as long as it’s cool being the little spoon in the ruins of the White House every night. But Margie doesn’t.

Don’t listen to this hoof-brained labubu hanging off the right’s rear-view mirror. Don’t give her the curious-dog look. She is a creature of social media, farming engagement like the oozing algorithm-incarnate she longs to be.

Miss Marjorie’s just finding out what all conservative women (and, on a long enough timeline, men, too) find out: once they’re done using you to hurt everyone like you, you never existed.

OMG LOOK! I got through all that without saying the word Nazi!

She’s a Nazi, though. She just thinks her shirt ain’t brown.

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