The Slur Heard Round the Swamp: Trump's Comms Chief Discovers You Can't Defend Epstein's Rolodex While Calling People Retards

The Compassion of a Sociopath

Steven Cheung, the Trump administration's communications chief—a title that apparently requires neither communication skills nor a functioning moral compass—has discovered a novel rhetorical strategy: defend Jeffrey Epstein's associates as "innocent people" whose lives were "ruined" by transparency, while simultaneously deploying the r-slur against congressional representatives who dared to ask questions.

This is not mere hypocrisy. This is hypocrisy doing a triple lindy off the high board into a pool filled with acid and broken campaign promises.

The Taxonomy of Selective Empathy

Cheung's targets? Reps. Ro Khanna and Thomas Massie—two lawmakers who committed the unforgivable sin of suggesting that maybe, just maybe, the public deserves to know what's in the Epstein files. For this transgression, Cheung labeled them with a slur that would get a middle schooler suspended, then immediately pivoted to pearl-clutching about the "ruined lives" of people who happened to appear in a dead pedophile's little black book.

Let's be clear about the moral calculus here: asking questions about Epstein's network = life-ruining witch hunt. Using hate speech against elected officials = totally cool Tuesday afternoon content.

The cognitive dissonance required to operate at this level would shatter lesser minds. But Cheung soldiers on, a true believer in the Church of Selective Victimhood, where the real crime isn't sexual exploitation of minors—it's the bad publicity that follows.

The Maestro of Moving On

Meanwhile, Trump himself has been conducting a masterclass in distraction theater, snapping at CNN reporters like a cornered animal, demanding the country "move on" and "get onto something else." He's never seen this particular journalist smile, you see, which is apparently germane to whether we should investigate a child sex trafficking ring.

This from a man who, according to new reports, told a police chief in 2006 that "everyone knew" about Epstein's crimes—before later claiming he had "no idea" about any misconduct. The man's relationship with the truth is like his relationship with contractors: use it when convenient, then stiff it when the bill comes due.

The Department of Redaction

The DOJ, now under Trump's purview, has released Epstein files with more black bars than a Langley budget proposal. Even Newsmax—Newsmax—is calling out the administration for the redactions. When you've lost Newsmax on a transparency issue, you've achieved a special kind of governmental opacity.

But Cheung and his ilk have their talking points locked and loaded: concern-trolling about "innocent people" (read: powerful men who partied on rape island) while wielding slurs like rhetorical cudgels against anyone who asks uncomfortable questions.

The Oracle's Prophecy

Here's what the tea leaves and blood patterns tell us: this will get worse before it gets better. The administration that promised to "drain the swamp" is now defending the swamp's most notorious denizens with all the eloquence of a YouTube comments section circa 2009.

Cheung's outburst isn't a bug—it's a feature. It's the tell. When they're calling you slurs for asking questions about Epstein, they're telling you exactly where the bodies are buried. Or in this case, where the flight logs lead.

The files will continue to be released in dribs and drabs, each dump carefully curated to protect the powerful while throwing red meat to the base. And communications chiefs like Cheung will continue to define "communications" as "unhinged rants that would embarrass a teenage edgelord."

The Reckoning That Isn't Coming

In a just world, using hate speech while defending associates of a child sex trafficker would be a career-ending move. But we don't live in a just world. We live in a world where this is Tuesday.

Cheung will face no consequences. Trump will continue to bark at reporters. The redactions will remain. And somewhere, in the halls of power, men who flew on Epstein's planes and partied at his estates will breathe easier knowing that the real victims here are them—subjected to the horror of public scrutiny.

The slur is the tell. The defensiveness is the confession. And the demand that we "move on" is the cover-up in real time.

Welcome to 2025, where compassion for Epstein's Rolodex is mandatory, but basic human decency toward elected officials is optional. The inmates aren't just running the asylum—they're issuing press releases from it.

And they're calling you the crazy one for noticing.