This Week in Hell: Kinda Quiet. Might Rain. I Hear Something Happened to That Trump Boy (Ferret/SC)
Like all of you, I’ve come to expect the worst of 2020, but I really thought Rick Moranis was understood to be off-limits. I’m gonna guess you don’t need me to tell you shit has been restaurant-quality cray this week, so let’s wade through this stuff so we can all get back to wailing mournfully into the empty night air.
(Hey hey. Want this post in living color, with nifty news links? http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-kinda-quiet-might-rain-i-hear-something-happened-to-that-trump-boy-with-the-odd-haircut/)
Feels like a million years ago, but yet another peek behind the curtains of Shartopia revealed the Candycorn Skidmark’s contempt for the religious conservatives who make up his base, aka The One Fading Hope He Has of Staying Out of Prison. That any human being can still believe this sociopath will ever demonstrate the slightest bit of loyalty makes me think our position atop the food chain isn’t as secure as we’d maybe like.
Director of National Intelligence/Fashy Flunky John Ratcliffe declassified and released a lil’ bit o’ anti-Hillary horsecrap widely understood to be Russian propaganda, and I’m old enough to remember when the intelligence community thought its job was to stop foreign attacks rather than aid them.
What I hope everyone takes from this latest bit of weaselly malevolence from a cabinet-level official is that these second- and third-generation Trump Admin appointees are not Mattis-like grown-ups looking to restrain Tangerine Idi Amin’s more destructive or dictatorial influences, but clear-eyed collaborators eager to impose his will, and heaven help American democracy if they’re given four more years to achieve their nefarious goals.
I see Brad Parscale’s dirtbag life has plunged into the spiral of scandal and comeuppance familiar to so many prominent Trumpworld figures, amidst rumors of federal investigations and physical abuse. Y’know what else, Bradkins? I’ve got a feeling that stack of presidential pardons is goin’ back in the drawer come January, so, y’know...sucks to be you.
I’m currently filing litigation against my cable provider, because when I tuned in to watch what had been advertised as the first presidential debate of the general election, the only thing my signal picked up was a bloated howler monkey flinging his own shit at the wall for 90 minutes.
I guess the “strategy” was, “If nobody can hear anything Joe Biden says, he can’t hold me accountable for my bowl-of-turds-crawling-with-maggots record,” and so Fat Q*Bert belched forth a seemingly endless cascade of non-stop vileness that was honestly shocking, even after all these years of watching him behave abominably. It was 90 minutes of pouring boiling hot poison directly into your brain, and if you missed it, holy fuck I am jealous.
If you had choose just one lowlight, I suppose it’s tough to top the Velveeta Vulgarian’s revolting attempt to taunt Joe over his son Hunter’s struggle with addiction. Glass houses notwithstanding, this was ultimately just another dipshit primate dominance display that blew up in his face, because he truly does believe voters will be impressed, even awed, by these playground bully tactics. He thinks he’s projecting “strength,” and actually these delusions about his own efficacy are a huge part of why his presidency has been such a catastrophic failure.
Still, the big headline out of the debate was of course the moment when the incumbent President of the United States issued orders to a fascist street gang, live on television. Asked to condemn white supremacist violence, Gameshow Göring instead told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by,” because look, voters in minority neighborhoods aren’t gonna harass and intimidate themselves, okay?
New intelligence reveals that North Korea merrily accepted Donnie Dotard’s every gluteal smooch, but never stopped expanding their nuclear capacity behind his back, because that’s just how you do things when such an eager rube wanders, wide-eyed, into your den.
The Trump/North Korea story is perhaps best understood by imagining Kim Jong-un perched atop Weehands McNodick’s perpetually-slouched shoulders, dangling a fake Nobel Prize made of cardboard and Scotch tape from a fishing pole ever-so-slightly out of the reach of those tiny, inadequate, little mitts, steering him around the room, making him run into walls, cackling all the while.
Texas Governor Greg Abbott decided that things would be a lot easier on his proto-fascist party if it were nearly impossible to vote safely during the pandemic he’s mismanaged so murderously, and so he decided that every county in the state, including Harris County with its 1,777 square miles and 4.7 million residents, should get one and only one drop off box for ballots, a deliberately disenfranchising maneuver so anti-American, one expects Abbott to develop a sudden, severe allergy to apple pie.
In hardly the week’s only tale of inevitable, overdue comeuppance, Jacob Wohl and his doofus ratfucking comrade, Jack Burkman, finally dumbassed their way into felony charges, over a robocall voter suppression scheme in Michigan. Jacob’ll do well in prison, I think.
After her What if Evita Swallowed Six Pounds of Crack and Recited Mein Kampf tirade at the RNC you probably wondered, “the fuck is wrong with this Guilfoyle broad?” and now you’re sorry you asked, aren’t you? Because we found out, and woooooo boy, Kimberly turns out to be such a deeply fucked up, grotesquely abusive little freak the universe truly had little choice but to steer her into the orbit of the Turd Family Robinshart.
Good lord. Tennessee Williams and Ingmar Bergman are standing up in the audience shouting ENOUGH WITH THIS FUCKING FAMILY ALREADY.
But my apologies, Ingmar, this Klan is nowhere near finished belching up bile all over America’s lap, not until Queen Melania gets her chance to rant and whine about the widely loathed institution known as (checks notes)...Xmas. Yes, secretly-recorded audio captures the First Lady lobbing turds at kids in cages and even shitting on Jolly Old St. Nick himself, and I know this betrayal must be difficult for all the keyboard warriors huddled in their War on Xmas trenches, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m really enjoying myself laughing at you.
Welp, Hairplug Himmler finally went and got himself infected with COVID-19, after weeks of engaging in behaviors widely understood to spread COVID-19, who could have seen this coming except everybody? Somehow millions of Americans are still planning on voting for this dolt, despite watching him stick his finger in an electrical outlet, over and over again, and then, upon receiving multiple extreme shocks, deciding, “I should probably try fucking it.”
Hope Hicks was apparently the first to test positive, and naturally these crooked bastards’ initial instinct was to conceal this information from the public and continue campaigning as usual, under the exact same coronariffic conditions as before, until some pesky reporter at Bloomberg screwed up the plan, and, in doing so, probably saved some folks’ lives.
Even after learning of Hicks’ infection, Team Treasonweasel STILL traveled to a fundraiser at his eyesore golf club in New Jersey, quite likely spreading the disease amongst the financiers of his attempted fascist takeover of the United States, in what Lady Justice is calling “the most righteous shit I’ve ever fucking seen.”
Yes, Donald Trump is now seeking re-election on a platform of I Turned My Own Fucking House Into a Coronavirus Hot Spot, and I’m no Nate Silver, but I don’t see that shit working out. Melania has it, Senator Mike Lee has it, the President of Notre Dame, who attended Amy Coney Barrett’s Rose Garden nomination ceremony with Lee and the Trumps has it, and armchair contact tracing leads one to believe they are unlikely to be the last of the conservative political elite to become intimately acquainted with the disease they’ve allowed to ravage our country. Oh yeah, and three journalists have tested positive as well, collateral damage to this reckless idiocy.
HEY LOOK while I was writing, North Carolina Senator Thom Tillis also tested positive, and yes, he was at the Coney Barrett event. So this woman allows a party thrown in her honor to be held in conditions which openly defied public health guidelines, causing an outbreak of a deadly disease that reached the very Oval Office, and we’re supposed to let her exercise judgment over the rest of us for the rest of her life? Are you fucking insane?
To every Republican who has tested positive or is worried they’re about to, boy howdy, you can eat a Hefty Cinch Sak full of carmelized dicks. You weren’t wearing a mask when you came into contact with these superspreaders? Why the fuck not? You shook their hands, hugged them, even? Why? Why the fuck would you do something that stupid? You’ve been told, clearly and repeatedly what you have to do to protect yourself from this virus. Nothing difficult, just hand washing, social distancing, and a mask. It’s not like you’ve been called upon to do anything really challenging, like identifying a drawing of a horsey, or remembering five words for ten minutes.
Even after recklessly plunging the nation into a national security crisis, Republicans are still frantic to push their SCOTUS heist through before the long arm of the popular will removes them from power in one short month. To Mitch McConnell’s skittish colleagues I say hey, he’s clearly been willing to sacrifice everything that’s good and decent about the United States on the alter of his own power, did you imagine he’d give a single solitary fuck about any of your lives?
And of course the Shart House STILL won’t model responsible behaviors, trotting out the likes of Mark Meadows and Propaganda Ministress Kaleigh McEnany, dead-eyed and maskless, to spin and spin, as though anyone anywhere believes a single word that drops out of their lying mouths. (Update: finally, after possibly getting SCROTUS killed, these dumbfucks are wearing masks. Slow clap.)
Yeah, Kayleigh kept assuring us President Crotchrot was happily doing jumping jacks while discussing The Aeneid with the Pope, in Latin, even as we heard conflicting stories about potential symptoms, and about experimental treatments. It all feels like the grand climax of an epic opera based, for whatever reason, on the Boy Who Cried Wolf. As we watched the President get whisked away to Walter Reed for an extended hospitalization, we realized we hadn’t heard one shred of information from anyone we could trust. I asked my Magic 8-Ball if this was any way to run a railroad, and it told me to go fuck myself.
...and wouldja believe, the Wisconsin state GOP, admittedly one of the looniest, angriest Republican sub-cults in the country, is actually suing to overturn the Democrat governor’s mask mandate? Thinking about it, I guess that’s the inevitable result, when you’re already used to trying to impose your own personal morality on others, and then you become a death cult.
Well, if you would like to be governed by smart, sensible people, who are not in a death cult, may I suggest you browse the options in the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide? The Flip the Senate page is super popular these days, which makes sense, but don’t forget about the House majority, which needs both protecting and expanding.
http://showercapblog.com/shower-caps-fascist-flushing-2020-senate-action-guide/
And I hope you don’t find it tacky of me to advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital, because this is the point in the blog when I advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital. Just a few more days in the Early Bird period, so if you want your name in our Special Thanks section, pledge now!
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/mine-1?ref=user_menu
Fucking hell. That’s enough. Me drink lots now. FUCK.
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Kellyanne Conway has now tested positive for Covid.
Last edited Sat Oct 3, 2020, 08:50 AM - Edit history (2)
I was killing time during EIGHT FRICKING MONTHS of isolation necessitated from living in a country run by babbling batshit cray cray howler monkeys singing a childhood song about counting beer bottles. Y'know the one, 'Take one down. Pass it around. Now there's 99 bottles of beer.' dum-de-dum and so forth.
When it occurred to me that this is exactly what the Donald J. Trump Brain Trust/University Fellows/SCOTUS Seat Theft Ring must've been doing at the Covidpalooza superspreaderfest except with Diet Coke, Urinal Cakes, or Hope Hicks to get the kind of transmission we're seeing.
It left me with a sense I can't really put a word on... I don't think there's a word for it. All I know is I for one feel soundly owned. Boy, the owning is massive. There couldn't possibly be more owning of me. No sir-ree. Complete owning. Now, the only thing worse would be if every last Trumpanzee would mimic the behaviors shown by their betters and pass around something touched with each of their lips. Then, whoo, the owning I'd feel would be indescribable. Ultimate owning, that.
Well, it'll take them awhile to gather an infinite number of Trumpanzees to perform this feat of ownage.
Until such a time, take care TF and please wear a mask.
Thanks for everything.
