Dingus of the week: “bigballs” and the He-Man Woman Hating Club
Let’s slam some red dye #3 and slap a Nazi
If 2025 has done one thing, it’s crimes. If 2025 has done two things, it’s disabuse us of any notion that career success is a meritocracy. Because what in the everloving hell?
This week, WIRED reported that at least six engineers between the ages of 19 and 25 are playing key roles in the Musk administration. They have little to no experience working in the government and probably couldn’t pass a background check, much less order a drink at a bar. And apparently have access to all our data.
One engineer, Edward Coristine, is the nepo baby son of the snack brand Lesser Evil, which doesn’t seem to be living up to its name. Because it unleashed nothing but evil in the form of a cursed son who goes by “bigballs” online. A security expert who spoke to the magazine alleged, “There's little chance that he could have passed a background check for privileged access to government systems.”
Per the LesserEvil website, “What distinguishes LesserEvil is our belief in the power of intentionality. Every decision we make, every product we develop, is imbued with purpose—aimed at benefiting not just our customers, but our planet and community. Our ethos is grounded in the principles of a clear mission, relentless innovation, unparalleled customer focus, robust internal culture, and a commitment to social responsibility.”
I am so glad LesserEvil is dedicated to making its food without toxic ingredients but apparently didn’t apply those same rules to its own son. Because there is no social responsibility for 19-year-old sons who are party to a coup, accessing our data, and shutting down agencies that feed people and stop babies from getting AIDS.
My brothers and sisters in Christ, I am begging you, please raise your kids to be less toxic than the chips you buy.
Like I have to log on to the World Wide Web every day and see women with dyed blonde hair and lip filler telling me they don’t feed their kids red dye and okay, go off queen but if it’s a world without chemicals you want, why are you out here box-dyeing your hair and getting gel manicures? You want fewer toxins in your food, but your sons are out here being toxic as fuck and we all have to suffer the consequences.
American is just one emboldened semi-literate fail son away from some Jonathan Swiftian executive order Preventing the Children of Poor Immigrants from Being a Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick.
It’s enough to make me want to slam a bag of Cheetos and slap a Nazi. Or, in this case, a Hitler youth.
This administration is out here ending diversity, equity and inclusion efforts, but then letting the little children who go by the handle bigballs lead us? This is your best and your brightest? A bunch of boys with broccoli hair cuts who started companies called Sexy.Tesla LLC?
If hiring bigballs and the rest of the He-Man Women Hating Club is the biggest argument you can make for male superiority, you are kicking your own ass.
American is just one emboldened semi-literate fail son away from some Jonathan Swiftian executive order Preventing the Children of Poor Immigrants from Being a Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick.
As a side note, in my role as a mom, I keep meeting little 11-year-old boys who I just know are going to send me death threats online in 2 to 5 years, and 9 times out of 10 they’re named Christian and their dad is a pastor at the biggest church in town. So glad to know they can shitpost their way into a role in the DOGE administration now.
An ode to being a hater:
It has been suggested by more than one well-meaning subscriber that I try to make this Friday newsletter more positive. And sometimes I am very positive. But most of the time, this Friday newsletter is for being a hater. Why? Well, for one, I have a hater’s heart. And this is my newsletter. I am writing it.
But also, I think it’s not only good but healthy to call out dingus behavior when we see it. I think it’s good and right to make fun of the absolute dinguses who are running America into the ground. We have to learn to laugh at these jabroni-ass attempts at fascism. Sometimes it’s gallows humor, yes, but also, I think it takes some of the edge off the power and fear.
Right now, people I talk to are gripped with fear and anxiety. And in my experience, humor has a leveling effect, it rips away the artifice, shows us that these emperors are ugly and naked. And when we cower in fear, we do half of the work for them. Humor makes us bold. Humor helps us survive.
This week, I learned I needed a new fridge, and my whole house was devoid of alcohol because I had cleaned it out for dry January. So I went to my favorite local booze store and bought some bourbon and wine. I joked with one of the guys who runs the store that keeping the foreign wines on a separate shelf was xenophobic. He replied, “We had to do it because of an executive order. On Friday we ship them off to Guantanamo.”
It’s dark. But I laughed pretty hard about it for the next couple of hours. My friends, we aren’t going to survive if we can learn to laugh and find joy in the fight.
And remember, decant, don’t deport.
And now for something good:
This bird rescue in Anchorage will name a rat after your ex and feed it to their raptors. Wondering if they’ll let me name a rat JD Vance.
The Proud Boys lost the right to their own name after being sued by a Black church that they vandalized. And truly, you love to see it. Here are my suggestions for new names. Boys, I am just trying to be helpful.
Loser Laddies
Whiny Whippersnappers
Humbled Hims
The We’ve-Never-Found-the-Clit Boys
DOGE Dinguses
Racists
Dems are finally finding a spine.
Being a hater finally pays off.
Chappell Roan talking about health care.
Beyonce won a Grammy for best country album. And in the process, gave us an excellent meme. Our queen continues to be generous.
School systems across the US are saying “fuck you, make me” to Trump’s executive orders. We need more of this energy going forward.
What I am enjoying:
Last week, I bought a pair of $188 cashmere joggers. This was a huge extravagance and if I’d known my refrigerator was going to quit on me, I might have thought twice. But as it is, I bought them and I am so sorry, but I love them. They are so soft. I wear them all the time and they are bringing me deep comfort in the doldrums of winter and the decline of humanity. I want to be a woman of the people. But these cashmere pants are making me swan around like an heiress.
Do I think nice soft pants will help as America burns? No. But does it feel nice to schlub around in them? Absolutely.
Also, I am loving teenagers. When my daughter was little, everyone told me, “Just wait until she’s a teenager!” As if her becoming her own person would be my undoing. It isn’t; it’s everything I hoped it would be. She’s passionate, smart, driven, and fierce, and really hilarious. Do I get yelled at? Yes. Do I deserve it? Absolutely.
Am I going to change the name of this newsletter to Teenagers Yell at Me? Maybe. But is it worth it? Hell yeah.
Also, I am very much looking forward to the Kendrick Lamar show this weekend. Also, remember that the guy who looks like a megachurch pastor two weeks before he loses his job for doing sex crimes is also going to be at the Kendrick Lamar show this weekend. He was the dingus back in May, when I called him a Temu-brand Travis Kelce.
Oh, dear god, don’t go positive on us. I too have a “hater’s heart,” and your vitriol nourishes me.
All I can think is "We’ve-Never-Found-the-Clit Boys" should be sung to the tune of "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel.