Jake Tapper Sucks

Who Needs Truth When You’ve Got an Advance?

Remember when Jake Tapper was supposed to be the serious journalist in the room? Now he’s just the guy you cross the street to avoid, clutching his latest book like it’s a ransom note, lurking in the shadows at parties, desperate to corner you and babble about his “process” while you scan the room for sharp objects or a fire alarm to pull. He’s not the voice of reason—he’s the cautionary tale you tell your kids about what happens when smug mediocrity gets a book deal and a whiff of its own cologne.

If Tapper hustled real news half as hard as he hustles his bullshit book, maybe CNN wouldn’t be circling the drain. At this point, his segments should come with a “Sponsored Content” warning and a promo code for free fucking shipping.

Some people flirt with the bottom of the barrel—Tapper put in a down payment and built a McMansion there. Joe Biden’s cancer diagnosis would make any halfway decent human being pause, maybe even shelve the hit piece for a second. Not Jake. He took one look at a man fighting for his life and thought, “Fantastic! Time to wring a few more bucks out of this tragedy and wedge it into my next bookfomercial.” Compassion? Empathy? Basic goddamn decency? Apparently, Jake hasn’t seen those words outside of a crossword puzzle or an f’ng Hallmark card.

He doesn’t give a single fuck about how it looks, or how it feels to the family of a man battling cancer. He just saw another sales opportunity, like the soulless infomercial huckster he’s become. Shameless isn’t even the word—it’s predatory. Tapper’s code of ethics is whatever gets him more airtime and another shot at the bestseller list. He’s the referee betting on the game, then selling a memoir about it while the players are still bleeding on the field.

Jake’s betrayal isn’t just a bad look—it’s a masterclass in shamelessness. After years spent propping up Biden as the sensible grown-up on cable news, Tapper is now circling like a vulture, eager to cash in on the president’s decline with a quickie book deal. While Biden fights for his health and legacy, Tapper’s busy figuring out how to squeeze a few more bucks and cheap shots out of the story. This is corporate media at its sleaziest: truth for sale, decency in the dumpster, and Jake Tapper grinning all the way to the motherf’ng bank.

Let’s be clear: there’s nothing wrong with examining past elections and learning from them. That’s a job for historians, analysts, and, yes, journalists with a sense of responsibility. We should be talking about lessons learned, what went right, what went wrong, and how to do better next time. But Jake? He’s so obsessed with squeezing every last dime from his version of 2024 that he’s missed everything since. Newsflash: democracy didn’t freeze in amber after the last election. We’re living through history right now, and while Tapper’s busy hawking his book about the past, he’s missing the actual story unfolding in real time. If your head’s so far up your own ass you can’t cover the present because you’re too busy cashing in on the past, maybe journalism isn’t for you. That’s not just lazy—it’s fucking stupid.

And then there’s his crocodile tears over the Biden White House “not liking him.” Boo-fucking-hoo, Jake. Maybe if you acted like you had a heart instead of a cash register where your soul should be, you wouldn’t have gotten iced out. But no, you’d rather sprint to Megyn Kelly and whine like a washed-up reality star who didn’t get enough confessionals. The only thing more pathetic than your victim routine is the fact that you genuinely believe anyone gives a shit. Newsflash, Jake: you’re not some fearless truth-teller being persecuted for your integrity—you’re just a glorified mall cop who couldn’t get a press pass to his own pity party.

You want to talk about being “unliked”? That’s not a badge of honor bro, it’s a sign you’re about as welcome in journalistic circles as a fart in a spacesuit. You’re not Woodward, you’re not Bernstein—you’re the guy who shows up to the Watergate break-in with a selfie stick and a stack of signed headshots, hoping someone will validate your parking.

You don’t get shunned for being brave. You get shunned for being a clout-chasing parasite who thinks a gut wrenching tragedy is a springboard for your next book deal. Keep crying to Megyn Kelly—maybe she’ll let you co-host her next segment on “How to Ruin Your Reputation in Under Five Minutes.”

Meanwhile, the actual news is burning down around us—Trump’s out here hoarding felonies like they’re Beanie Babies in 1996, democracy is face-down in a puddle, and Jake’s obsessing over Biden’s bedtime like a failed TMZ intern with a traumatic brain injury, desperate to shoehorn it into his next bargain-bin book plug. Where was this rabid energy during season one of this hellish reality show, when Trump was melting down on live TV every hour like a nuclear clown car fueled by saccharin and unresolved childhood trauma? Where’s the exposé on the orange sociopath with the attention span of a coked-up squirrel? Oh, right—Jake only discovers his balls when it’s time to shake down the former President, because taking on real power would require an ounce of integrity—something he pawned off for a slot on cable news and a lifetime supply of hair gel.

CNN these days is just an endless Jake Tapper telethon, except instead of raising money for a cure, they’re hawking his book like it’s the antidote to erectile dysfunction. Anchors slather on more fake enthusiasm for Tapper’s latest literary turd than a QVC host selling off-brand vibrators at midnight. I’m half-expecting Wolf Blitzer to pop up and offer a free set of Ginsu knives with every hardcover, or maybe Anderson Cooper in a sequined blazer, spinning a prize wheel: “Congratulations, you’ve won a signed Jake Tapper book and a lifetime supply of disappointment!”

If these clowns funneled even a fraction of that energy into actual journalism, maybe we’d have news that wasn’t just Tapper’s ego in hardcover. But no, it’s all Jake, all the time—like he’s the world’s most persistent rash and CNN’s the world’s least effective ointment. Tapper’s face is everywhere: on the screen, in the promos, probably in the breakroom fridge, leering at you from a carton of expired yogurt.

CNN’s become the sad, desperate carnival barker for Tapper’s book-shaped doorstop, and the only thing getting sold is their last shred of dignity.

Here’s the ugly truth: giving Jake Tapper even a molecule of respect was like tipping the guy who spits in your food. He’s not just a sellout—he’s a clearance sale on dignity, the human equivalent of a hotel washcloth after a bachelor party: stained, used up, and best left untouched by anyone with self-respect. Tapper is what you get when smug mediocrity is left to ferment in the sun with a book deal and a ring light.

Tapper isn’t just a joke—he’s the kind of punchline that makes people leave the group chat, delete the app, and schedule a therapy session just to scrub the memory of him from their psyche.

The irony, of course, is that this stupid-ass book is actually one of the few things uniting this fractured hellscape of a country at the moment: left, right, and everyone in between can agree that Jake is a human LinkedIn notification with the credibility of a timeshare pitchman and the warmth of a TSA pat-down. His book is such a transparent cash grab, it makes late-night infomercials look like Pulitzer contenders. Progressives see him as a bootlicker with the backbone of a limp pool noodle and the desperation of a failed child actor hawking teeth-whitening kits on Instagram; conservatives think he’s a sanctimonious hack who’d sell out his own grandmother for a segment on Morning Joe. The only bipartisan consensus left in America is that Jake’s book is a literary landfill fire—an embarrassment so desperate, it should come with a warning label for secondhand cringe.

So, congratulations, Jake. You finally did it. You made America agree on something: you’re a fucking joke. And nobody’s buying what you’re selling—literally or figuratively.

And with that, today’s song. This one goes out to you, Jake. (No offense to Sir Paul, who I very much love. Those two clearly had some shit to work out). 😘

I love you guys!

Stay strong, stay sane(ish), and stay away from Jake Tapper’s shitty-ass book.

💙Jo