In the three episodes of the new Roseanne made available to critics, there are scenes about declined credit cards; about jobs taken for the benefits; about drug abuse; about life in Lanford, Illinois, as the now-expanded Conner clan reassembles in the family home. Darlene (Sara Gilbert) has just moved back to Lanford with her two kids, the teenage Harris and the tween Mark. D.J. (Michael Fishman), a veteran whose wife is still serving in the military overseas, has moved back with his own daughter, Mary. Becky (Lecy Goranson) lives out of the house but in town, working as a waitress at a Mexican restaurant. The family will clash and jab and continue the brand of lovingly mutual mockery that made the original show so compelling. (“You qualify for a state grant,” Darlene helpfully informs Becky, suggesting that she go back to school, “because luckily you’re poor and old.”)

The family will also tackle of-the-moment issues such as gender fluidity and the ethics of surrogacy and the realities of opioid abuse. And they will continue, as before, to find dark humor in financial instability. Before any of that classic Roseanne comedy takes place, though, there’s the partisan elephant in the room: Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. 2016. The events of two years ago read, in the show, almost as demons that must be exorcised—political versions of the retconning that has allowed Dan, revealed to have been killed by a heart attack at the end of the show’s ninth season, to be alive and well in the new episodes of Roseanne. The first episode of the reboot—the premiere that announces the rearrival of the Conner family on the American stage—has the feel of a sitcom-esque form of Stockholm syndrome, its stories held captive to the battle that ended two years ago.

Roseanne and Jackie, reunited by Darlene, proceed to argue—via dialogue created in part by Wanda Sykes and Whitney Cummings, who serve as a writer and an executive producer, respectively, on the rebooted show—about Clinton and Trump, about healthcare, about jobs, about guns, about the culture wars that have only become more vicious and violent since the days of Roseanne’s original run. “Mom, Aunt Jackie’s standing right here, pussy hat in hand,” Darlene says, trying to broker peace. She fails.

“Knee still giving you trouble, Roseanne?” Jackie asks. “Why don’t you get it fixed with all that healthcare all you suckers got promised.”

“It works good enough to kick your ass, snowflake,” Roseanne replies.

Later, Jackie brings salad dressing as her contribution to the family dinner; she smirks as she reveals that the dressing in question is Russian.

There is something well-meaning but also distinctly cartoonish about these exchanges: the language of political debate, rendered as caricature. “Jackie, would you like to take a knee?” Roseanne asks her sister, as the family sits down for dinner. The joke lands, like so many others, with a thud.