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7.3/10. The prospect of a Trump presidency caught most of us by surprise, and that includes the folks behind the scenes at South Park. Last week’s episode, which aired only a day after the election, clearly had been hastily reworked in the shadow of an outcome that few people saw coming. But now, with a full week to prepare, the show is still spinning its wheels a bit as it digs into the new serialized format, but has successfully pivoted to telling a story about Donald Trump and what his election says about this country.

It starts with going whole hog on the Garrison-as-Trump conceit. Leaning into the thread of Star Wars commentary that’s run through this season and showing Garrison receiving his Trump hair a la Darth Vader in Empire Strikes Back is inspired, and whoever managed to remix Vader’s theme with “Hail to the Chief” is brilliant. With a little time to refocus, the show’s seemingly moved away from the member berry brainwashing story re: Garrison and is using him as a vessel to parse out Trump’s thin-skinned response to slights, no matter how small.

The result is a delightful series of scenes where Garrison goes out to throw his weight around and intimidate the people who’d previously put him down. Whether it’s P.C. Principal, the man who fired him, or people from the town shopping at the grocery store, Garrison only understands one thing about being President – you won and that makes you the biggest boss of all. Garrison’s petty feuds consume him as he prepares to take office, inviting anyone and everyone to fellate him (and with Garrison, he could mean it literally) after having thrown shade at him in the past.

But the foolishness of this comes through when an international crisis erupts thanks to the Troll Trace program in Denmark. The possibility of entire countries’ emails being released leads to threatening of thermonuclear war, so the powers that be whisk Garrison away to the White House. And in the process, there’s commentary on how ridiculous it is to put someone who’s shown they’re far more interested in retaliating against people who have insulted them than sound governance things access to interrogation, espionage, and nuclear weapons.

It’s also a rude awakening for Garrison himself. When he walks into the situation room and sees tons of officials and analysts frantically trying to assess an incredibly complex situation, one where he’s supposed to make the final call, Garrison is clearly in over his head. It’s almost like an eighteen month stint of bashing anyone who questions you that gets you the sort of attention necessary to win an election does not necessarily give you the skills to carry out the duties of President of the United States. So when the email scandal is erupting and the intricacies of international diplomacy are unfolding in real time with split second decisions required, all Garrison can do is what he’s always done, misguidedly throw a fit against one of his allies. When backed into a corner, Garrison reverts to what got him there, even if it’s wholly unhelpful to the actual problem.

The same is true for Gerald, who is still trapped in the confines of Troll Trace’s dungeon. When faced with prospect of being outed as skankhunt, he attempts to pin his misdeeds on Ike, so that he can ask his wife or others for help by claiming Troll Trace has the wrong man When questioned by his fellow trolls for pinning his transgressions on his little boy, Gerald deflects that nothing bad will happen to Ike, because people expect this sort of behavior from kids. So he guides Ike through trolling in the style of his father, with the tike bearing the brunt of Sheila’s wrath in the process. (Though in the episode’s cliffhanger, Kyle puts two-and-two together.)

And there’s a thematic connection to Garrison’s story there. Gerald expects that Ike can carry the weight of his trolling because the world understands that kids act out and are still figuring out how to be mature adults. The catch is that when adults do the same thing, like Gerald’s rampant online attacks or Garrison-qua-Trump’s constantly bashing anyone who opposes him, it’s a sign that they’re childish, not mature enough to handle the real world. So when they’re put in a position where they have to make tough decisions, they don’t know what to do so just revert to foolhardy stuff like insulting England or blaming it all on an innocent kindergartener.

Of course, some folks want to get out of dodge at the prospect of someone like Garrison being in control of the world’s strongest army. That’s why there’s a big line at SpaceX when Cartman and Heidi attempt to head to Mars (so that, unbeknownst to Heidi, he can avoid her finding out about his dig against the female-led Ghostbusters).

The line includes Butters, who’s been reformed by Bill Clinton’s Gentleman’s Club and is no longer “pressing pickle.” But in a delightful twist, it appears that Butters is a natural enlightened feminist in a way that Cartman’s had to strain to be, and Cartman doesn’t appreciate the newfound competition for Heidi’s appreciation. When a guest appearance from the real Elon Musk (Simpsons did it!) reveals that an actual mission to Mars is a decade away, Cartman attempts to fortify his position by declaring that Heidi is smart and funny, with the hint that Musk himself thinks she may be able to speed up the process.

It’s an interesting take on people’s desire to bolt in the face of a temperamental troll holding the nuclear football, but the peak of this part of the episode is Cartman’s disbelief and resistance to his old punching bag Butters. There’s a great deal of humorous irony when he declares to Butters that no one could change from being such a virulent misogynist to becoming an enlightened feminist so quickly. And it hints at cracks in what may very well be Cartman’s façade.

The real threat, however, appears to be from the member berries themselves, and as amusing as it is to see the berries hang out in a 1940s dance club or put on an all-berry performance of “Africa,” they’re an important part of the episode’s themes.

There’s a scene early on in the episode where Garrison confronts P.C. Principal and declares “you made me.” It’s emblematic of a strain of thought that Trump’s election is a backlash to the growing strength of liberal norms and political correctness that many parts of the country bristle at. Without the member berries, it’s easy to take this scene as an full-throated indictment of the norms that P.C. Principal represents, that pushing too hard for that sort of inclusiveness created an equal and opposite reaction that produced Garrison!Trump.

But the big member berry conspiracy plot reveals otherwise. Rather than treating those P.C. principles as wholly misguided, South Park paints the response to as something pernicious that long predates the Star Wars films the member berries are always going on about. The storm troopers connection is a nice nod in that direction. The member berries don’t want to take things back to the 1980s; the ones in charge want to take things back to the 1940s.

Threatening to jail political opponents, to register people from a religion some people feel threatened by, and promising to use gestapo-like tactics on enemies within the country are not the reasonable response to a culture that’s moving in a different direction you disagree with. They’re a descent into Nazism, another instance where a country felt threatened and wanted to go back to the good old days. As South Park heads into its last two episode of the season, it’s starting to make that comparison literal.