Joe Biden has become toxic not just for the country, but for Democrats, who are reaping the consequences of foisting a declining old man on the voting public and getting him installed as president.  So harmful is his incompetence to the party that, inevitably, wags are suggesting tongue-in-cheek that he must be a Republican plant.  For example, this by John W. Childs, titled, "Joe Biden: Closet Republican?"

From the New York Sun:

I wrote an earlier op-ed suggesting that the Biden budget might have been designed in Beijing, so favorable was it to Chinese aspirations of world domination. His current agenda looks as if it might have been devised by the Republican National Committee, so favorable is it to Republican aspirations of domestic political domination.

Let me count the ways, starting with Mr. Biden's hysterical (in the sense of panicky, not funny) advocacy of the voting rights bill, HR1. He alternately shrieks, or whispers, that our democracy depends on it. Among its many puzzling provisions it would ban any requirements for voter ID. This is politically counterintuitive as most polls show voter ID is supported by something like 70 percent of the voters, even a majority of those supposedly at risk of suppression.

Take Mr. Biden's border policy. The contrast between Mr. Biden's shrill support of extreme antiseptic measures when it comes to Covid among citizens versus the welcome mat for unmasked, unvaxed, and untested aliens is startling. This wave of untested individuals is a visual that should rally GOP voters new and old.

It's good political humor, but any writers using this sort of irony have to realize that they follow in the wake of a masterpiece of political satire published almost 30 years ago with Hillary Clinton (who somehow still remains on the political scene) as its target.  Ron Unz took note that while she was in high school in the early 1960s, Hillary Clinton had been a Barry Goldwater–supporter, her first foray into political activism.  Such young women were at the time called "Goldwater girls."

If I recall, when first published in the California Political Review, the essay was called "Letter to a Goldwater Girl."  It is currently archived in what Ron Unz calls the "Goldwater Papers."  Take a look at the first few paragraphs and, if you are in the mood for biting satire on a target that richly deserves it, read the whole thing:

The following correspondence was found in the personal papers of a retired U.S. Senator from Arizona after his death in 1998.

Dearest H.,

Almost 30 years have gone by, and nobody suspects a thing! The strength of your determination still astonishes me. I never dreamed that the fiery "Goldwater" girl who visited me in my Chicago hotel room a couple of weeks after my landslide defeat in 1964 was serious. After all, when a teenage girl swears to go underground and dedicate the rest of her life to destroying American Liberalism and the Democratic Party, but from within, a crusty old politician like me assumes it's a passing phase.. I'd certainly forgotten our conversation within a few weeks, though I was charmed by your spirited support.

How wrong I was. When I got your letter shortly after your husband was elected Attorney General of Arkansas in '76, your name meant absolutely nothing to me. As an old male chauvinist, how could I reject a lunch request from a lady, even one who mentioned she was visiting Arizona to attend an ACLU conference. When we sat down, and you explained who you were and what you'd been doing over the previous 10 years, I thought you'd escaped from the loony bin. But then you showed it all to me, your pages of notes, your secret diary, your strategy outline, all perfectly authentic. The boldness of your plan floored me. If even just a few of our intelligence agents had been of your caliber, those damn commies in 'Nam would never have stood a chance.

Imagine, "converting" to the Left at Wellesley, having your consciousness raised, learning to dress Left, act Left, talk Left, even think Left, all as a cover. Learning your lessons so well, you not only became a solid member of those college pinkos, but one of the leaders, student body president and a key figure at college conferences. With the contacts you made at those conferences you were able to evaluate which of those college leftists had the greatest political potential. You even slept with bums you personally and politically detested ever searching for the man to be your future instrument. Mata Hari has nothing on you.

And then you finally found him. As you've told me so many times since, he was a complete boob, an empty windbag, a politician to the core, with no goals except fame, women, and the good graces of his trendy-leftist social set. He was perfect: a Rhodes Scholar, but not a very smart guy, and he came from the tiny state of Arkansas, where it would be easy to launch a political career. He was an anti-war activist — but not an extreme one — a soft compliant fellow, who would always recognize that you were far more intelligent and knowledgeable, and who would willingly let himself be molded like putty in your hands. Even before you were married, while he was at Oxford, you persuaded him to "maintain his future political viability" by risking the draft lottery. You always emphasized to him his great political potential, and how important it would be for him to make the "right" friends among the other Rhodes Scholars.

Then later, after marriage and Yale Law School (where you diligently helped the blockhead in his coursework), the efforts you had to make to get him to move back to Arkansas, and re-establish his country-boy roots, so necessary for the political future you were planning. He'd have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his life seducing co-eds as a second-rate law lecturer at the lower rungs of the Ivy League. And the media thinks that you followed him back to Arkansas!

After that it was all like clockwork. Local boy who made good in the Big City gets interested in local politics, then becomes state Attorney General, then became one of the youngest governors in American history, and finally begins to build a national following. And all that time, you turned a blind-eye to his heavy womanizing, though you kept those photos around just in case he ever tried to slip the leash. Not that he would try — he knew you were aiming at the White House, though he never dreamed of your true motives.

Ron Unz, I salute you.

Caricature by Donkey Hotey, CC BY-SA 2.0 license.