⚠️ SATIRE WARNING:

This is not a polite Beltway whisper about “personnel changes.” This is a George Carlin–style flamethrower, aimed squarely at the politics of incompetence. Profanity will be used with surgical precision, hypocrisy will be dragged into the daylight, and if you don’t know what the Employee Retention Credit is now, you will by the time I’m done—and you’ll probably hate it.

Well, here we go again—another episode of “Who the Hell Is Running the Government This Week?” Spoiler: it’s not Billy Long. Not anymore. He’s been punted out of the IRS commissioner’s chair faster than you can say “audit,” replaced on an “interim” basis by Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent.

Billy lasted less than two months. That’s not a term, that’s a cup of coffee.

And this wasn’t just any IRS commissioner—they’ve had six this year alone. Six! That’s not leadership turnover; that’s speed dating with the nation’s tax system.

📜 Let’s Meet Billy Long

Former congressman from Missouri.

Former auctioneer.

And after leaving Congress in 2023? He went into the hot new pandemic-era side hustle: helping business owners claim the Employee Retention Credit—or ERC.

💸 Wait, What’s the ERC?

The Employee Retention Credit was a pandemic program meant to help businesses keep staff on payroll. Nice idea, good intentions.

Except… in the real world? It turned into a gold rush for scammers, shady “tax advisors,” and outright fraud mills. Think Nigerian prince email, but with IRS letterhead.

• Billions in bogus claims.
• Businesses that never existed claiming employees they never had.
• “Consultants” taking fat commissions to file bullshit paperwork.

And who was helping guide people through it? Our boy Billy Long. The same guy who just got handed the keys to the agency investigating all that fraud.

That’s like putting the getaway driver in charge of the FBI car pool.

🪓 So Why Ax Him?

Officially? Crickets. No reason given.

Unofficially? Pick your flavor of dysfunction:

• ERC Civil War: Maybe career IRS staff wanted a crackdown on fraud and Billy wanted amnesty—or vice versa.
• Political Centralization: Trump wants the IRS chained directly to Treasury so orders don’t get “interpreted” by pesky professionals.
• Pre-Scandal Ejection: Something ugly is coming down the pike about Billy’s ERC buddies, and the White House wants him out before the press connects the dots.
• Weaponization Friction: Somebody in the West Wing wanted the IRS pointed at political enemies; somebody said “that’s illegal.” Guess which somebody gets fired.

Whatever the reason, it sure as hell wasn’t “mission accomplished.”

🏦 Enter Scott Bessent

 So now we have the Treasury Secretary running the IRS “temporarily.” This is like firing the chef and making the restaurant owner cook every table personally—only the owner has an open kitchen in every city in the country and a list of diners they’d prefer not to serve.

🏛 The Politics of Incompetence

Here’s the thing: In a functioning democracy, the IRS commissioner is supposed to be boring. Invisible. The kind of person who loves spreadsheets more than fresh air.

But this administration? They’ve turned it into a revolving door of loyalists, opportunists, and—let’s be honest—questionable résumés. Why? Because they don’t want the IRS to work, they want it to serve.

Serve who?

Not you. Not me.

It’ll serve whoever’s in favor this week—donors, allies, grifters, and anyone clever enough to sell themselves as “loyal” while they loot the place.

💣 Final Torch

The IRS is supposed to be the grown-up at the fiscal party. Instead, it’s a game of musical chairs where the music stops every few weeks and somebody gets escorted out.

Billy Long was the auctioneer, the ERC pitchman, the latest placeholder. Now he’s gone, maybe onto an ambassadorship, maybe under investigation. And we’re left with a Treasury Secretary babysitting the tax cops while the real work—tracking fraud, protecting taxpayer data, enforcing the damn law—gets shoved behind the curtain.

So congratulations, America:

You’ve turned tax administration into reality TV.

Six commissioners in eight months.

And the season finale is always the same: someone gets fired, nothing gets fixed, and the politics of incompetence wins again.

Mic dropped.

Fraud un-audited.

Democracy still on hold.