What does this say about America, where only those daring enough to challenge President Trump do so on their own terms? Enter the two rebellious cartoonists.
In the premiere of its 27th season, the animated series “South Park,” titled “The Wermon on the Mount,” launched a scathing critique of Trump’s initial six months in office.
The episode features characters like Jesus and Satan, and takes a sharp humorous jab at Trump’s laundry list of issues, touching on topics like NPR, bathroom policies, electric cars, and the return of Christian values in public education. The characters also accuse Trump of exploiting the country for personal benefits and ruling through intimidation and lawsuits.
In response to a preview clip, White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers dismissed “South Park” as a “fourth-rate show” that has been “irrelevant for over 20 years and barely hanging on.”
Creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone typically address such critiques with humor. At a Comic-Con panel, Parker was asked about the backlash and replied dryly, “We are very sorry.” It’s hard to tell just how genuine that apology was.
You know, if we were to think back, we might expect more commentary from media critics, but the landscape isn’t exactly ripe for that right now.
On Thursday, the Federal Communications Commission voted 2-1 after what felt like a very long 250 days of indecision, approving an $8 billion merger between Skydance Media and Paramount Global’s CBS. Many speculated the hold-up was tied to settling a lawsuit from Trump against the network that many believe lacks merit.
Parker and Stone enjoy certain advantages over other Trump critics in media. Unlike Stephen Colbert, their work actually earns revenue for Paramount. Just days before the season premiere, they signed a major deal with the studio worth $1.5 billion for a new five-year contract, producing ten episodes each season.
This deal potentially shields Parker and Stone from the repercussions of Trump’s lawsuits. If not, at least they’re financially secure—which, given the success of “The Book of Mormon,” might make them more valuable than Trump himself.
The story kicks off at South Park Elementary, where the principal, who once embraced diversity, is now struggling post-election. He invites students to accept Jesus as their savior, even making a big pitch at lunchtime.
One parent, Randy Marsh, chimes in with concern, “What is Jesus doing in this school?” Another character questions, “What kind of president acts like this? He doesn’t even seem Christian.”
Eric Cartman, a traditionally prejudiced student, remarks, “Everyone hates Jews. That’s okay. So is being homophobic.” It’s a shocking display and underscores the episode’s dark undercurrents.
Jesus, confronting Trump’s “South Park” opposition, delivers a warning with a bit of an exaggerated flair, cautioning, “People can do whatever they want.”
At one point, Jesus asks, “Do you really want to be like Colbert?” He states he’s only back to deliver a warning to the townsfolk.
The episode doesn’t simply vent unfettered rage over what some may see as a blasphemous portrayal of Jesus. Some Christians view it with a more nuanced perspective.
Meanwhile, Trump’s animated counterpart finds himself in a comical yet awkward scenario with Satan, who angrily rebuffs him, suggesting Trump is starting to resemble a past boyfriend, Saddam Hussein, all the while discovering Trump’s connections to Jeffrey Epstein.
After being sued for $5 billion by Trump over opposition to his presidency, South Park agrees to a $3.5 million settlement, which includes creating 50 public service announcements that laud the president. The first of these, let’s say, doesn’t do Trump any favors.
The political implications of the episode may stretch far, especially considering its primary audience is younger men, who have shown a tendency to lean towards Trump. If this episode sways them to see Trump as a tyrant and an easy target for ridicule, it could have real repercussions at the polls.
