Douchebags of The Week (Week Ending 12/4/21 - Harris and Cuomo)

 "It is a scathing indictment of Modern America when one must consider the distinct possibility that our Vice President's finest oratory was most likely delivered in a seedy motel along a stretch of deserted interstate..." -- The Overlord

I have not distributed a DOW Award in six months.

Primarily, this is because there are typically so many worthy candidates in a particular week that deciding upon a single individual who has achieved excellence in douchedom is a difficult task. In order to relieve myself, somewhat, of this burden, I will begin handing out the awards on a mass basis.

I know: this cheapens the honor and waters down it true value, but then again, we DO happen to live in an unfortunate age where inflation has hit everyone particularly hard and devalued everything else.

And this week's nominees can take a great deal of responsibility for it, too, no matter how much they insist it's everyone else's fault.

We begin with our Vice (P)resident, Kamala Harris, who is to good governance what an inflamed herpes sore on your lip is to making a good first impression.

I must begin with something of a disclaimer.

Although some will read this and automatically label it as "Hate Speech", I must confess to having sympathy for Kumswallah Kamala Harris. It cannot be easy to be her (although far be it from me to assume her gender). She labors under some heavy weights that would have given Atlas a serious hernia.

It must be difficult to go through life knowing that you've slept your way up the political ladder. It must be terribly embarrassing to carry on when the entire world knows that your Quid came at the tip of Willie Brown's Pro Quo.

It must truly suck to be in a profession where everyone else is considered no better than a prostitute, but a very strong case can be made that you're the real, literal whore.

It must be terribly frustrating to know that the only reason you've achieved this near-pinnacle of success is because you're considered Joe Biden's Life Insurance Policy. It would take a truly deranged individual to do harm to poor Joe -- a man who has achieved the astounding goal of accumulating more birthdays than IQ points -- knowing that you are waiting in the wings, and that is generally considered to be the worst of all possibilities.

You have been Reversed Obama-ed, Kamala. Where once the reality of Joe on deck made the prospect of offing Barry unthinkable, now your presence in the bullpen makes it far more likely that Joe's demise -- whenever it comes -- will not be the result of an assassination attempt.

And Joe? A word of advice: if you ever do find yourself alone in a medical emergency (not that I wish one upon you, or that you might even realize it was happening) and the only person who could save you was your Vice (P)resident, you're shit out of luck, Son.

Kamala doesn't do Mouth-to-Mouth.

Only Mouth-to-South.

(So I've heard)

Which might be a damned good way to go, if you think about it, but hardly reassuring for the rest of us.

But, I digress...

Yes, it must be trying to be Kamala, what with the expectations of many who would rather see someone elevated because of their race(s) or gender, rather than ability. With the unwanted headaches that come with being "first" anything. To have to try and fake that oppressed minority routine everyday when the whole world knows your family once owned slaves.

And then the real problems arise: if Ralph Northam ever wanted to dress up like you for Halloween or a frat gag, which shade of mocha does he choose to paint his face?

And then, of course, the country expects you to DO SOMETHING, the ungrateful bastards, as if being a woman o' color, a nitwit and cursed with a gag-inducing laugh that comes straight out of "The Shining" weren't hard enough? They have expectations that you'll do something...anything.

Kamala ain't here to DO: Kamala is here to be a figurehead, yet another Affirmative Action empty vessel into which all the other unserviceable barnacles that cling to the hull of American Life can pour their hopes, dreams, aspirations...and sometimes bodily fluids.

Worst of all comes the news that come 2024, your party is already looking for someone else to wave the banner, and the whispers are beginning that if you're still sticking around, you'll still be only V.P., and the top of the marquee may go to Pete Buttigieg.

My, what a curious circumstance: once again you'll be beneath a man, but this time the man will be openly gay, and probably much better at buttsex than you were are.

It must truly be demoralizing to know that the only time anyone finds you appealing or pays attention to you is when you're in a horizontal position.

And so, in recognition of the stalwart and determined progress you've made despite all of your handicaps -- retardation, inexperience, severe mental disorders that cause you to cackle at inappropriate times, lack of work ethic, inability to choose an ethnicity, or alternately, play the wrong ethnic role at the wrong time -- we proudly award you The Douchebag of the Week Award, Madam Vice (P)resident.

Now onto Fredo.

The only people who suck harder than the Vice (P)resident (allegedly) is anyone named "Cuomo".

Being a native New Yorker (a disappearing breed, since Cuomos have always done their level-best to ensure anyone born here skedaddles to greener pastures and sunnier climes at the earliest opportunity) and having had the untrammeled delight of having two Cuomos shit all over my state (about as pleasurable as having someone ram a cactus up your ass), I am extrardinarily familiar with the Cuomo mark (more a shitstain on the sheets) of excellence.

Which is to say, if you're a Cuomo you're a master of both bullshit and dumbfuck, and if you think you've seen it all from the Kennedys of Albany, well, there's always a new surprise to be had.

For example, this is the first time in the history of the DOW awards that it has been won by a set of brothers. Andrew (The Grim Reaper) has set a record for most DOW awards EVAH, with three, and now Fredo can -- FINALLY -- claim his spot on the family mantlepiece (right next to the picture of Mario sucking Mussolini's dick in Hell, and just below the stuffed head of a random dead Nursing Home resident) to place his shiny statuette.

These guys are like the Williams Sisters of douchebaggery.

The Cuomo boys are so bad that Scum has sued Webster's to have their picture taken away from next to it's definition.

Chris Cuomo is of a type that is rather common, unfortunately, in these parts. Had daddy not been governor, had Big Bro not been a do-nothing-take-credit-for-everything machine politician of extraordinary audacity, Chris would assume the usual role of the youngest brother in an Italian family, and been spending his days in the local watering hole or sleazy gym, arrayed in wife-beater and wearing a backwards baseball cap, scraping a living by running numbers, moving swag, dodging child-support payments to a drudge whose only virtue was that she let him fuck her once.

For free, even.

It's only been the penumbra of the Cuomo Name, which has a value of dubious sort among the demented precincts of the Left, that has probably kept Chris out of jail, or from a real job, and allowing him to live very well on the crumbs that fall from every Cuomo graft. Certainly a man of such limited mentality and utility could never have landed a job at CNN without someone pulling strings for him.

And there's something extra-specially sleazy and creepy about these Cuomo boys, whether it's Andrew's hair-trigger penchant for revenge, or the younger's habit of flexing his muscles and beating his chest like a gorilla at anyone who annoys him (like anyone cares you lift, Dummy?), that makes them especially unlikable, untrustworthy and exudes an air of pure greasiness.

Say what you will about Mario, who was to good administration what Hunter Biden is to Data Security, but he never went as far as to stick an unwanted finger into an unsuspecting vagina. Or attempt to forcefully french the interns. Perhaps kill thousands through sheer negligence and pettifoggery and lie about it, Or to fortify his mendacity with a daily Power Point presentation. Or find the need to prevaricate about being on death's door, only to stage your emergence from the basement for the benefit of the cameras, as if Christ had just risen from the tomb.

If that's how we're measuring "integrity" these days -- hey, at least I didn't attempt to sexually assault your grandmother and then kill her -- then we have fallen as a society and we can't get up.

Like thousands of elderly New Yorkers.

But Fredo didn't, figuratively, pull the trigger on those unfortunates. No, no, no. But he DID do something just as foul -- he tried to clean up the crime scene and protect Big Bro (because where else is he going to get a job? "Fucktard" and "shitweasel" are not very marketable skills outside of CNN, you know). He effectively arrived on the scene with a bottle of bleach and a bunch of Hefty bags and tried to help Handy Andy dispose of the evidence.

Fredo used his position at CNN to elevate his brother's public image, while simultaneously downplay the tragedy of his deadly mistakes. He used the power of the press to shape consensus -- on Andrew's response to Miss Rona, about the women who have accused Andrew of sexual assault, about the stunning decision to send people to hospitals where they got infected and then to lock them inside nursing homes where they could infect others and all died, while 'drew collected millions in campaign funds from the Nursing Home operators.

And then he took it one step further and used the resources of CNN to dig up dirt on Andrew's would-be rape victims, denying that he ever did any such thing.

In the long scroll of recorded Cuomo family crimes, this may be the least objectionable, but then again, it's Chris, the least capable.

So, congratulations, you fucking dickhead: you've finally equaled your brother...

...in depravity.

Good job.

Daddy must be looking up from Dante's Ninth Circle with great pride.