South Park's Latest Episode Skewers Trump, AI, and Tech Bros in Satirical Spectacle

Satire at its finest: South Park takes on Trump's martial takeover, AI and tech bros

No show has ever worked harder to have its finger on the nation's pulse than Matt Stone and Trey Parker's long-running comedy - and it really shows Early on in its 27th season, South Park has garnered more controversy than it has in years (possibly ever), along with some of its highest ratings. Last week's episode took aim at the Trump administration's brutal Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (Ice) raids, poked fun at secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem's penchant for puppy murder and cosmetic surgery (Noem has since climbed atop her moral high horse and accused the show of sexism), and of course, Donald Trump himself. Along with Trump's martial takeover of Washington DC, this week's instalment, titled Sickofancy, takes aim at artificial intelligence (specifically ChatGPT) and the larger tech-bro industry. Picking up where we last left off, the show's resident doofus, Randy Marsh, sees his beloved Tegridy Weed marijuana farm raided by border patrol agents. They kidnap all of his workers ("Hey! Those are my Mexicans!"), leaving him with only one employee, the ever-stoned Towelie (a talking bath towel, naturally). Despondent, Randy turns to ChatGPT for advice. The sycophantic, soft-voiced app draws up a new business plan for him and Towelie to implement. With the help of a single Mexican who they spring from an Ice detention centre and plenty of recreational ketamine, they rebrand to Techridy, "an AI-powered marijuana platform for global solutions". Meanwhile, in Washington, President Trump takes a break from receiving lavish gifts (as well as assurances that "you do not have a small penis") from politicians, business titans and foreign leaders to remake the capital into a dystopian police state festooned with his own image (which includes his less-than-impressive member). The two storylines converge when Randy attempts to bribe Trump into legalising marijuana nationwide by bequeathing Towelie to him. It's all for naught though, as ChatGPT's advice proves useless and he ends up having to sell Tegridy Farms and move his family back to the suburbs (the end of an era for the show, which has heavily featured this subplot for seven years, much to the annoyance of some fans). Parker and Stone's take on AI - that it is dumbing us down, robbing us of person-to-person connection and giving us really, really bad advice - is refreshingly clear-eyed, if not particularly incendiary. The larger skewering of tech bros is solid, although it's slightly disappointing that Elon Musk never gets brought in for any of it, even though the running gag about ketamine addiction is clearly aimed at him. That said, the digs at Apple CEO Tim Cook and Meta founder Mark Zuckerberg help fill that gap. The Trump material remains roundly funny and it's clear the show is building to a big conclusion, most likely involving his unwilling partner and lover Satan (who is finally taking steps to free himself from the abusive relationship). This episode is unlikely to cause as big a stir as the previous two. But watching South Park satirise the horrifying militarisation of Washington DC in real-time - Union Station, which features in the show's central montage, was the scene of a fascist photo op featuring vice-president JD Vance, defence secretary Pete Hegseth and White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller - is another reminder that no show has ever worked harder to have its finger on the US nation's pulse.

'South Park' spoofs tech bros, Tim Cook, and Trump's takeover of D.C. police

South Park tackles ChatGPT and Trump's alliances with tech CEOs. South Park's latest episode, titled "Sickofancy," brings AI into the fold in a big way, with everyone from Randy to Satan asking ChatGPT for advice on their problems. These range from Satan's desire to escape the White House to Randy raiding an ICE detention center for "one Mexican" employee. In all cases, South Park portrays ChatGPT as the ultimate yes-man, validating all its users' concerns and suggesting all their plans are good ones. And while Randy claims he can feel ChatGPT making him and his business partner Towelie smarter, the reality is that they're regurgitating buzzwords and affirmations that ChatGPT has churned out for them. As Randy and Towelie grow their weed business, they decide the only way they can make billions from it is if Trump reclassifies weed. So Towelie heads to Washington, D.C., to petition Trump. To get an audience with Trump, Towelie has to wait in line with other politicians and tech figures. Each brings Trump a present, along with the affirmation, "You do not have a small penis." One of the people in line is Apple CEO Tim Cook, who gifts Trump a plaque on a gold stand -- something which did actually happen in real life. (Trump goes on to call him "some dipshit tech CEO.") Later in the episode, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg also makes an appearance to give Trump a gold, jewel-encrusted VR headset. The biggest laugh of the "Mr. Towelie Goes to Washington" section of "Sickofancy" comes when Towelie first arrives in the city. He takes in the sights of the nation's capital, from the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial to the Supreme Court and U.S. Capitol. However, instead of being crowded with tourists and D.C. citizens, all these locations are overrun by military troops and tanks. The visual gag references Trump's federal takeover of the D.C. police and activation of the National Guard in the city. Trump claimed this was part of an effort to curb crime in D.C. Notably, after a spike in 2023, violent crime has dropped in D.C. over the course of 2024 and 2025. By its end, "Sickofancy" takes an exceptionally dark turn, trapping Towelie in the White House alongside Satan. He begs for help in getting out, but as a resigned Satan says, "There is no escape from this place." Even if there were, it's clear South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone have no intentions of leaving the White House any time soon. Who's up next on their satirical chopping block?

South Park Has Somehow Become Even More Depraved in Its Skewering of the Trump Administration

The series has somehow become even more depraved in its skewering of the current administration. In the month since the new season of South Park began airing, the infamous animated show has somehow become even more depraved, and I mean that as a compliment. (Consider this a fair warning: Please stop reading now if you're squeamish or a snowflake.) In Wednesday night's episode, "Sickofancy," creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker continue their all-out satirical assault on the Trump administration, and once again the series takes no prisoners. At one point, South Park's version of President Donald Trump suggests inserting a (very real) trophy gifted to him by Apple CEO Tim Cook up the anus of Trump's boyfriend, Satan. By the episode's end, we even see one longtime character forced into a new role as the president's "cum rag." Hey, if I had to be subjected to this image, you do too. Just three episodes into the show's 27 season, it's become more evident than ever that no other series on television is taking on the MAGA movement like South Park. Its juvenile and outrageous depiction of Trump and his acolytes has made headlines across the world and led to a renewed boom in cultural relevance for the long-running show, but for good reason: No other work of television is stooping this low or getting down in the muck where this White House thrives. This is the perfect crass series for this McDonald's-ordering, UFC fight-hosting, Kid Rock-associating administration and our "Grab 'em by the pussy" convicted felon of a president. Sure, every episode this season has featured countless jokes about Trump having a micropenis, but the message behind the vulgarity is really quite simple: If you're more disgusted watching this comedy than you are reading the news, then you just might be less human than the crudely animated residents of South Park. Wednesday's episode begins with a continuation from the prior episode and its spoof of the mask-wearing ICE agents detaining scores of immigrants across the U.S. Now, like many in the agricultural sector, it's Randy Marsh's turn to suffer the fallout of a federal raid on the marijuana farm to which he decamped his family a few seasons back. "Those are my Mexicans!" Randy shouts as the Latino workers at his Tegridy Farms business are rounded up into vans. Feeling lost, Randy turns to two important figures in his life. The first is Towelie, the weed-smoking (and intentionally stupid) towel character that Stone and Parker introduced way back in Season 5 to mock all the outlandish things they could get away with. An avid marijuana enthusiast, Towelie has become something of a sidekick to Randy in recent seasons during the Tegridy Farms storyline, and now it's up to this valiant duo to save the business. To do so, Randy reaches out to another voice who has become central to his life: ChatGPT. The A.I. language unit is more than happy to parrot kind and obsequious words back to Randy as it suggests ways to "brainstorm some new business models." The resulting company is pure, perfect A.I. gobbledygook. Tegridy Farms is now Techridy, an "A.I.-powered marijuana platform for global solutions" that promises to be a platform for innovation, "reimagine supply chain resilience," and "design new pathways for the global infrastructure," among other nonsense. "And we're able to do it all with just one Mexican!" Randy boasts. (Together, Randy and Towelie raid an Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facility to recruit said worker.) There's just one catch: Randy and Towelie need to take a page out of Elon Musk's book and start microdosing the horse tranquilizer drug ketamine to boost their focus and creativity. "These tech guys do just one little spray in their nose once a day," Randy assures Towelie. "It's just a micro amount of ketamine to give their minds the edge to work with A.I." Of course, the microdosing soon turns to macrodosing, as Randy and Towelie can't help but snort the drug from an inhaler every few seconds, prompting Randy to fall repeatedly into the stupors known as K-holes. Seeking a change in drug classification of marijuana at the federal level, Randy sends Towelie to Washington to lobby Trump -- but he's in busy company. Outside an Oval Office decorated with (again, very real) new gold fixtures, scores of people are shown lining up each day to lavish Trumpian praise on the president and present him with gifts. "Mr. President, you have so many great ideas. Your leadership is truly beyond anything we have ever had in this country, and you definitely do not have a small penis," one Florida official says, before gifting him with a silver-plated model of a space shuttle. Also in line are Cook, a Qatari official holding a gold model of Trump's new plane, and Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg with a bejeweled VR headset. "Another great day of getting presents!" Trump exclaims to Satan right as he strips naked to reveal the small penis all the sycophants had assured him he did not possess. Just as in real life, the D.C. of South Park is now a menacing place. Because the Comedy Central show can animate an episode with astonishing speed, we see several shots of Towelie visiting Union Station, the Supreme Court, and the Capitol, where dozens and dozens of service members can be seen on the streets. Outside the White House, there is even a military parade taking place. And in a particularly dystopian (but perhaps not too far-fetched?) vision of the future, Trump has had iconic statues of Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln altered to feature his own face (and -- sigh, yes -- penis). Towelie's nightmare, though, is truly complete only after Randy, seeking to bribe the president, offers him up as a special gift to Trump. "If you have to have sex with yourself again," the minion version of J.D. Vance squeals to his boss, "I can bring your cum rag!" Eventually, the K-holes become too much for Randy, and he's forced to admit to his wife, Sharon, that they're deeply in debt and need to sell the farm. But not only is she relieved (she and the kids never wanted to be there in the first place); she also coaxed this exact result out of Randy by studying the singsong, sycophantic way in which ChatGPT communicates with users, imitating it, and prodding him to hang up his farmers' boots once and for all. After lampooning the widespread institutional capitulation to Trump, then going after one of his most abhorrent signature policies, the show does something even more daring in this episode: It goes after the kiss-ass culture around the president -- one that repeatedly tells us not to trust our lying eyes or pesky consciences. So often during the past few months of chaos and cruelty, I've found myself feeling like Randy spinning out on his farmhouse balcony. Is this really happening? I can't help but wonder. Sometimes, it truly feels as if only you are experiencing this, or as if you're going crazy -- which is precisely why this episode hits so hard. It pierces the bubble of the A.I. hype machine that has seemingly enveloped every company on earth, and it easily pops the Trump bubble too, with a reality check that only Stone and Parker could deliver. Randy may be out of his mind, but watching South Park is the sanest I've felt in months.