This Unholy Mess


New and Improved Civicks 101

Having a hard time understanding our new political world? Living with a government that isn’t recognizable anymore can be tough going. And things are even worse now that civics classes in American high schools have largely gone the way of bouffant hair-dos and critical thinking; the average citizen’s understanding of the government’s workings is as poor as his grasp of the perils of eating curly garlic fries with nacho cheese.
But I’ve got your back. As a public service you will find below a short, fun, easy-to-understand Civicks guide. Remember our slogan: We Take the “ick” Out of Civicks!
First thing to remember: civicks is not a car lot full of cheap Hondas. Rather, it is an explanation of the workings of our new form of government now that the original one was driven off a cliff.
Second thing to remember is that there are six branches of the federal government: the Judicial, the Best Executive in the Nation’s History, the Twittersphere, the Easily-Duped, the Department of Dark Money, and the Miss Universe Pageant.
No need to waste too much time on the Judicial branch, since their only significant work in recent years is the 2017 landmark decision, Bullpucky v. Reality, which established that all government officials, beginning with the Best Executive, are legally permitted to say and do absolutely anything, with complete impunity, while anyone expressing opposing, fact-based and formerly lawful ideas is mandatorily tagged with any of the following descriptors: “fake news,” “liar,” “traitor,” “scum,” or “college graduate.”
The Best Executive in the Nation’s History is far-and-away the most significant branch of government, not just because you’re fake news if you disagree, but because he offers all citizens a finer quality of covfefe than the country has seen since Millard Fillmore’s wife used it as a styling gel just prior to her tragic death from an over-application in 1853.
The Best Executive’s job is to work closely with the Twittersphere in funneling large volumes of the most daring insults and disinformation directly to the Fourth Branch of government, The Easily-Duped, who don’t know better than to swallow this stream of crude untruths that destroy all but the base-brain functions of breathing and salivating. This right to transmit toxic verbal garbage, enshrined in the Constitution’s famous Article 44, is effective in a variety of situations where, for instance, the Best Executive wants to insult dead military vets, or to humiliate long-standing European allies, or even just to pass off the odd pathological lie—such as saying that his father was born in Germany.
Article 44 is particularly useful now, during an impeachment process that has unearthed damning facts about his abuse of executive power. Thank God that James Madison and the other Founders had the foresight to include it in the Constitution, thus providing the Best Executive unfettered use of Twitter to dissemble and lie directly to constituents, rather than having to be fact-checked. The 44th Article specifically states:
“All logick- and morality-challenged citizens shall be permitted to keep their heads firmly planted in that warm, dark, unhygienic place where so many of those heads are routinely lodged in any case, thus avoiding any unseemly expressions of good sense or reason, and remaining perfectly attuned to all Hotte Messes put forth by the Best Executive.”
Were the Founders far-sighted or what?
The fifth branch is the Department of Dark Money, a branch that, while keeping a low profile, is critical in greasing the wheels of our institutions, carrying out its basic task of providing the fuel that grinds into paste the poor and disenfranchised members of society. Now you’re going to say, hey, why are these people being so badly treated, and where does all this money come from? Well: that’s exactly why it’s called “Dark Money.” Because you and I are not supposed to notice it, of course. Asking questions is unpatriotic. Cut it out.
Last and definitely least, there is the Miss Universe Pageant, an event that takes place only once a year, like the Joint Chiefs of Staff Swimsuit Competition, but which has an outsize function in governmental affairs. And yes, I do mean “affairs.” It has only one actual function, but a weighty one: to provide a mission-ready supply of women who carry the prestigious presidential designation of “10,” women whose dressing rooms have no locks, and who can be deployed rapidly enough to satisfy the needs of the Executive, the Secretary of Eye Candy, and other officials. This is a proud agency which attained status as a governmental branch as soon as so many Americans realized that Retro Bad Taste was a national priority, and that looking backward was always going to be more comforting—if not more productive—than facing the future.
God Bless the New Improved America!

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