We’re Fucked: 2016: A Presidential Porno

Title: “We’re Fucked”: A Raunchy Review of 2016’s Presidential Porn Parody

Ah, 2016, a year that will forever be immortalized in infamy not just for its political drama, but for the raunchy release of the politically-charged pornographic parody, “We’re Fucked: 2016”. This lewd little flick took the stabilizer off the Hugh Hefner Mansion-esque Cumma Lodge and gave it a jiggle, leaving no controversy un-rubbed and no taboo untouched. Let’s dive headfirst into the sweaty stupidity of it all.

The plot – if you can even call it that – follows a bombastic billionaire with suspiciously small hands, played by the delightfully oafish Brian Pumper. Our hapless hero, Trump, is on a mission to “make pussy great again”, and his running mate (and personal attorney) Michael Cohen, played by a perpetually grimacing Mr. Pete, is along for the ride.

On the other side of the political spectrum, we have Hilarious Clinton, portrayed by the sultry and stacked Fleshlight Galore, cartwheeling her way through a reenactment of the email scandal with her cache of crayons and winks. Her running mate, a gaffe-ridden situazione named Kaine, played by an unassuming gentleman with a pocket protector, hovers in the background, praying he’ll make it onto the ballot.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Isn’t this all just a big ol’ pile of politically incorrect smut?” Well, yes. Yes, it is. But dammit if it isn’t entertaining! The script, written by a squadron of embittered political advisors with too much time on their hands, is peppered with more innuendos than a teenage boy’s locker room. Lines like, “We need to drill baby drill, deep into the reserves of energy that this nation needs,” and “I’m going to stick my goddamn cake into this country and show it who the real boss is,” fly out of characters’ mouths faster than their dicks fly out of their pants.

And speaking of those pants, holy moly, the costuming department had a field day with this one. Trump’s orange fake-tanned mug and tiny man-hands loom over the set like a puppet show gone awry, while Clinton’s power suits are so form-fitting, you half expect them to rip at the seams like a cheap party dress two sizes too small. It’s a sight to behold, truly.

But let’s talk about the real stars of the show: the cast of jizz-addicted porn stars who look like they were cast solely on their ability to keep a straight face while screaming “Yes, Mr. President!” Well, I’ve got news for you, sweet cheeks, straight faces are in short supply in this hot mess of a movie. From the moment the red, white, and blue carnival lights come on, it’s a never-ending wank-fest of xi evil o’clock shadow strokes and post-coital finger-pointing.

The sex scenes are about as subtle as Putin’s hacking skills. There’s more splatter than a Jackson Pollock painting and more moaning than a Senate floor debate on healthcare reform. Hilarious and Trump fuck like a couple of animals in heat, their bodies entwined in a dizzying array of positions that would make even the most flexible contortionist green with envy. And let’s not even get started on the B-plot involving Gary Johnson and his libertarian fetish for double-stuffed sandwiches and crying it out sessions.

Oh, the controversies! This film has more conspiracy theories than QAnon. From the mysterious Fionna McCaskill character, who looks suspiciously like Anthony Weiner in a dress, to the nostril-flaring, eye-rolling performances that could give a Keystone Cops movie a run for its money, there’s no shortage of cringe-worthy moments to unpack. But hey, when you’re trying to bring down the 45th presidency with nothing but a bunch of horny porn stars and a script that reads like a bad Dr. Seuss book, you gotta take the bad with the bonkers.

“The media doesn’t cover politics like this!” you might be thinking. Well, that’s because the mainstream media has a little thing called “journalistic integrity” – something that goes out the window faster than you can say “strap-on” in this political pseudepigrapha. No topics are off-limits, no lines are drawn, and no sacred cows are spared from the branding iron of sexual innuendo.

And yet, despite the sheer ridiculousness of it all, there’s something oddlynostalgic about “We’re Fucked: 2016”. It’s a time capsule, a snapshot of a tumultuous year when anything seemed possible and yet so very improbable. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best way to make fun of something is to take it to its most absurd, depraved extremes. It’s a raunchy, ribald, raucous ride Through the looking glass of American politics, and it’s not for the faint of heart (or the faint of lust).

So, there you have it – a 1,000-word deep dive into the deliciously depraved world of “We’re Fucked: 2016”. It’s a movie that’s so bad, it’s almost good. But then again, isn’t that just about par for the course when it comes to politics these days?