Op-Ed: Why A Cartoon Penis Has MAGA In A Meltdown

Covfefe Chronicles: Why A Cartoon Penis Has MAGA In A Meltdown

This episode of 'The Covfefe Chronicles' exposes why a naked cartoon president has triggered such a visceral response from the far right.

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The Season 27 premiere of South Park has sparked a political firestorm after depicting a deepfaked, fully nude Donald Trump in bed with Satan, vulnerable, exposed, and sexually humiliated, prompting outrage from MAGA supporters and a swift response from the Trump camp.

The episode, titled “Sermon on the Mount,” aired last week on Paramount+ and featured Satan complaining that Trump’s penis is so small it’s nearly invisible. The gag, though petty on its surface, struck a deeper nerve. Conservatives denounced the scene as crude, desperate, and un-American, while Trump’s team labeled the episode “fourth-rate.”

“This show hasn’t been relevant for over 20 years and is hanging on by a thread with uninspired ideas in a desperate attempt for attention,” White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers said in the statement. “President Trump has delivered on more promises in just six months than any other president in our country’s history—and no fourth-rate show can derail President Trump’s hot streak.”

In response, creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone offered a dry, monotone apology in character: “We’re terribly sorry.” No lawsuit has been filed, but the Trump figure in the episode does repeatedly threaten to sue everyone, mimicking the former president’s real-life litigious persona.

But beneath the cartoon vulgarity and predictable outrage lies something deeper. The South Park satire wasn’t just crude provocation; it was a direct hit on the mythology of white masculine power at the heart of Trumpism. This episode of The Covfefe Chronicles peels back the layers of political theater, exposing why a naked cartoon president has triggered such a visceral response from the far right.

Trump’s brand has long been built on exaggerated symbols of dominance: gold towers, big buttons, aggressive rhetoric, and the illusion of unstoppable strength. To MAGA, he’s not just a man, he’s a messiah. So, when South Park strips that figure down and turns him into a punchline—literally flaccid and spooning the devil, it doesn’t just humiliate. It collapses the performance of white patriarchal power that fuels his following.

This is why the backlash feels bigger than a cartoon. Because the moment you shrink the symbol, you shrink the myth. And South Park didn’t just make a joke, they cracked a mirror. In doing so, they forced a nation still worshiping at the altar of white masculine power to reckon with the fragility behind the façade. What’s left, in the shadow of that tiny punchline, is not just laughter, but exposure. And for an empire built on projection, a small animated penis might be the most dangerous image of all.