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TheFerret

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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 06:48 PM
Number of posts: 384

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Read This Blog, or I Shall Declare Civil War Upon You (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Shit, as the poet once said, has gotten real. I feel like I need to triple my typing speed just to keep up with everything. The news is moving so fucking fast right now, I must ask your forgiveness in advance if I miss a story here and there, like maybe a small war or making first contact with Venusians.

(As always, this post can be found, with all them nifty news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/read-this-blog-or-i-shall-declare-civil-war-upon-you/)

New impeachment headlines keep raining down on us, seemingly hourly, like a never-ending hailstorm of ball-peen hammers, so maybe you’ve already forgotten about Ron Wyden's report from the tail end of last week. You know, the one that said that in addition to being malevolent ghouls, thirsty for the blood of innocent children, the death merchants of the National Rifle Association also acted as a foreign asset for the Russian government during the 2016 election, peddling access to the powerful even as they diligently worked to hand-deliver AR-15s to every emotionally stunted incel in the country.

Upon being outed, Wayne LaPierre wasted no time whatsoever in teaming up with the nation's other prominent Russian tool, “allegedly” offering Hairplug Himmler the financial and political support of his Death Cult in return for facilitating the deaths of even more children, by walking away from the common sense gun control legislation demanded by massive, bipartisan majorities, because quid pro quo is the name of the game when you elect a gangster.

So, I know we're at the start of this giant partisan fight over impeachment, but you just want to ask Senate Republicans, off the record, “Hey, in light of unbridled insanity of the non-infamous Liddle’ Tweet, why are you fighting so hard to protect this obviously unwell criminal? This is the point when you take Granddad's driver's license away, not protect his access to the fucking nuclear codes. THE MAN DOESN'T KNOW WHAT A HYPHEN IS, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

On the other hand, it's pretty clear that Orange Julius Caesar's moral rot has spread throughout the entire Republican Party. The NRCC took a cheap shot, not at freshman Congressman Joe Cunningham, but at his wife, for publicly mentioning the couple is in marriage counseling, which is...I dunno, just shittiness for the sake of shittiness, really. Look, I get that you're mad, Cunningham's sitting in a seat y’all never imagined could flip, until you decided to primary Mark Sanford with the trumpiest lunatic this side of the port-a-potty at a QAnon convention, but if you think the problem is “we just weren't hateful enough in 2018,” well, I hope you jags like the paper towels in the House minority bathroom.

Journalism reared its ugly head once again, forcing Cousin-Fucking Cousin-Fucker Rudy Giuliani (who fucked his own cousin), to cancel his planned, treasonerrific, vacation to participate in a Kremlin-backed event in Armenia, so he won't be able to hang out with his buddy Putin like he wanted to, HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY, JOURNALISM.

Meanwhile, Vlad is getting a little edgy with all this whistleblowing and transcript-leaking, feebly asserting his non-existent privilege to veto the release of any phone call transcripts between him and his Personal Pet President. Yeah, those conversations are probably full of step-by-step journalist-murdering instructions and offers to give Alaska back in exchange for Elizabeth Warren's social media passwords, so Pooty-Poot's probably right to be nervous.

Now, the Bonespur Buttplug's 2017 Oval Office meeting with th’Russians has long since captured the prestigious Most Treasonous Thing to Ever Happen Inside the White House award*, on account of the whole leaking-highly-classified-intel/exposing-a-source thing, but it sounds like he really turned his betrayal of America up to 11, assuring his handlers, er, “the visiting diplomats” not to worry their pretty little heads about interfering in the 2016 election, because one man's act of war is another's Get Out of Jail Free card, after all. Anyhow, the next President should, at minimum, believe that attacks on the United States by hostile foreign powers are bad. That's just what I think.

Nevada's Mark Amodei became the first Republican Congressthing to back the House's impeachment inquiry (though he was quick to correct the record, insisting, no, he does not, as reported, actually possess a human spine), so that shit's bipartisan now. Tri-partisan, if you factor in Dickbag Ronin Justin Amash, who is, quite frankly, throwing some amusingly sharp elbows these days.

Tangerine Idi Amin remains the Michael Jordan of Losing in Court, and I have to say, of all his humiliating legal setbacks, and they are LEGION, this last one is my favorite, since it blocks his absolutely evil attempt to detain migrants, including children, indefinitely in his shitty little concentration camps. It's a little harder torture kids in America today, and I guess I'll take my victories where I can find ‘em.

Former US Special Envoy for Ukraine Kurt Volker has resigned in order to spend more time with the various House committees investigating All the President's Crimez. I wonder what he'll say...maybe I can ply Adam Schiff with wine coolers and compliments about his tasteful shoes.

The Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor has said he will not be setting up a “war room” for the impeachment fight, because when have his instincts ever failed him except at least 32 different times every single day of his life? Me, if I had somehow managed to fail at the fucking casino business, I'd be looking for outside help whenever possible.

The big defense plan seems to be to claim the whole impeachment hullabaloo is based on “hearsay,” but that plan is complicated by the way the Shart House keeps confessing to everything, from the “look at all this crime we did” transcript to openly admitting to improperly hiding potentially embarrassing calls on a private server. I haven't read the whole whistleblower complaint, but none of the worst accusations are in dispute, so I'm confused as to what the "hearsay” is supposed to be about. Like, does the whistleblower claim Donnie Two-Scoops had a mustard stain on his tie while he was betraying his country when it was actually a ketchup stain? We're picking at nits here.

Anyway, the backup plan, already in motion, apparently revolves around shouting, “No really, what ABOUT her e-mails?” as Mike Pompeo's State Department has, I shit you not, actually resurrected the ol’ Hillary Clinton's Private Server and Also Probably Pizzagate, Why Not investigation, and yeah, I bet that chases all the big, bad, impeachment headlines away, campers. You're in the clear. War rooms are for CUCKS.

If that doesn't work, I suppose there's always the Only Other Thing Donnie Dotard Knows How to Do: inciting white supremacist violence. Proving his twitter rage isn't reserved solely for the noble hyphen, he targeted a number of Jewish and non-white Democratic Congressfolk, as “savages,” perhaps fearing that in all the news about his corruption, we'd forgotten about his despicable bigotry. That instinctive impulse to distract from his crimes by dehumanizing minorities is pretty fucking scary, like...the dude's default setting is Hitler. If you hit control-alt-delete on Trump, he'd go glassy-eyed for a minute and then just start reciting Mein Kampf.

Donald Trump is the patron saint of Subpar Thugs, and his followers keep on perpetrating acts of racist terror in his name. Take, for example, former New Jersey police chief Frank Nucera Jr., a white supremacist shitsack currently on trial for hiding behind a badge while committing hate crimes, who views Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot as “the last hope for white people.” First off, fuck you eternally, you racist pile of hamster shit. Second, as a white person, I'll look for hope in a crusty, half-eaten, can of Chef Boyardee ravioli before I ever look to your bloated tick overlord. In conclusion, eat shit, Frank. Enjoy prison.

Getting back to impeachment, if you turned on the Sunday Shoz to check out the grotesque gaggle of creepy dirtbag surrogates Team Treasonweasel fielded to defend Emperor Poosquirt, you could be forgiven for thinking you'd mistakenly stumbled into a lost Tim Burton Batman film. Rudy, Lindsey Graham, Gym Jordan, and even Uncanny Valley Centerfold Stephen Miller? Yikes. This Campground Outhouse Rogues Galley snarled and spat and above all else lied, so much so that Jake Tapper, and even Fux's own Chris Wallace, had no choice but to call them out on their bullshit.

Personally, I thought the most effective communicator of the weekend was Robert De Niro.

We're less than a week into the impeachment inquiry, before the fucking pencils are even sharpened or the debates about who gets to pick the lunch delivery place first have begun, and the Candycorn Skidmark is already test-driving messaging about civil war. Me, I didn't think he'd call for massive outbreaks of violence until he lost in 2020, so it's nice to know there's still room to overestimate him. But I do want to go on the record as declaring my intent to dodge any draft he may institute in the name of Civil War II: Treasonous Taintfungus Boogaloo. I learned it from YOU, fuckhead.

Oh, and just for good measure, he's now threatening the whistleblower, and anybody else who might feel like snitchin’ to the feds, because impeachable offenses are like potato chips, betcha can't commit just one.

As you're trying to process this exponential increase in bat guano production, resulting from the complaint of a single whistleblower, remember that there’s already another whistleblower we may get to hear from soon, this one with information about Shart-O the Clown's taxes. I don't think it'd take more than five total whistleblowers, tops, to make him actually combust.

I see Jeff Flake wrote an adorable little op-ed in the Washington Post, calling on his former Republican colleagues to rediscover their “principles” and fight Trump and honestly Jeff, how am I supposed to maintain a satire website with a walking parody like you shambling around, calling for a degree of courage you yourself are constitutionally incapable of? It's unfair competition, that's what it is. The guy who heroically demanded an investigation into Brett Kavanaugh, only dissolve like a slug in a Morton factory when he was offered the flimsiest of shams instead? That was YOU, Jeff. Sit the fuck down.

New York Congresscrook/American Fascism Early Adopter Chris Collins remembered that he's actually totally guilty of all those crimes he's been charged with, and resigned his seat ahead of entering a guilty plea, GUESS IT WASN'T A WITCH HUNT AFTER ALL. Anyway, Congratulations Susan, you're now officially the Undisputed Shittiest Collins on Capitol Hill!

Across the pond, it looks as though the Boris Johnson Traveling Fuckup Show is building to a spectacular climax, adding accusations of groping a reporter, and even talk of being dismissed by the Queen to the walking monument to failure that is his life.

And now I see Rudy got what he's been asking for, and no, it's not the phone number of a woman he's related to, it's a big fat fucking subpoena from House Democrats. Hey, you picked the fight, genius. And the fun thing is, these assclowns can't stonewall Congress anymore, as Dems are threatening to use any refusal to cooperate as evidence for an obstruction of justice article in the inevitable impeachment trail, tee frickin’ hee.

Meanwhile, John Bolton and the Genocidal Mustache Attached to His Upper Lip have broken their silence, taking a sloppy dump all over their ex-boss’ North Korea policy, which would be headline news in saner times, but maybe we can squeeze you in next to today's Beetle Bailey, Johnboy, unless it's one with the dog. That dog's fuckin’ funny.

And it turns out Fat Q*Bert isn't just dabbling in pressuring foreign governments to interfere in American politics, he's on a bonafide Global Ratfucking Tour! Today we learned the depraved fuck has ALSO been pressuring the Prime Minister of Australia to help him dig up dirt on the origins of the Mueller investigation, like maybe it was the brainchild of a mob of deep state wallabies, or perhaps a wisdom of liberal wombats, or even a puddle of Clinton Foundation platypus, and can you guess what I've been googling? Anyway, this little gambit seems to have been Bronco Billy Barr's brainchild, in his ongoing quest to redact all legality and decency from the entire executive branch.

Actually, Barr has been quite the busy beaver, working the phones, and even traveling the world (at taxpayer expense, of course), looking for assistance for his efforts to (checks notes) assault and undermine America's law enforcement community for investigating the Russian attack on the 2016 election. At the risk of typing something that might just get me struck by lightning, I MISS JEFF SESSIONS.**

Oh, and I guess Mike Pompeo was actually on that one harmless little prank call where Weehands McNodick asked Ukraine “Hey, is your refrigerator running? Well you better go catch it and also make up some dirt on Joe Biden or I'll cut your fucking aid off.” Weird that the little wannabe-theocrat hadn't mentioned that on his own, and in fact lied when directly confronted. Y'know, I'm starting to think our Secretary of State isn't the devout Christian he loudly professes himself to be, but rather the cheapest imaginable thug, positively horny to destroy American democracy in order to rule in the ruins that follow.

The good news is, in spite of Democrats’ trademark hand-wringing, impeachment polls are shifting rapidly in our favor, and again, we haven't even served the fucking soup course yet. Gonna be a fuckin’ ride, folks.

Ok, I really need to move on to other important work*** now, but the damn news won't quit breaking, and now Squeezably-Soft Telefascist Seb Gorka is hitching a ride to Europe with Mike Pompeo, and I just need to get away from this shit for a bit. You're on your own for the rest of the night, Resisters...stay safe!

*It’s not a Nobel, but stick to your strengths, says I.

**Of course I don't actually miss Jeff Sessions. Jeff Sessions is racist trash. I'm not actually a superhero, either. So much dishonesty. OH MY GOD WHAT IF I'M SARAH HUCKABEE SANDERS?

***Drinking

Slow News Day, Almost Didn't Blog. I Guess We Could Talk About This "Impeachment" Thing. (Ferret)

I was thinking, instead of a blog tonight, maybe I could just stand in the middle of the street and scream "what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck” at the top of my lungs until I pass out. No? Well, since you're already here, I suppose I may as well document the madness, such is my charge and my curse.

(And yes, if you want the post with all the nifty news links, it's a click away at: http://showercapblog.com/slow-news-day-almost-didnt-blog-i-guess-we-could-talk-about-this-impeachment-thing-if-youre-bored/)

Since we last spoke, my favorite new band, Nancy P and the Swing District Freshmen, finally announced their highly-anticipated Impeachment Inquiry Tour, and I will be camping out on the fucking sidewalk in order to procure front-row tickets. We'll get to that soon enough; let's plow through the opening acts real quick.

It's been suggested that the sole function of the Republican Party in 2019 is shielding the Trump crime family from accountability, but I just don't think that's fair; they're also really quite passionate about belching up the vilest imaginable hate at this climate activist child. Watching some of these maniacs froth and screech, you'd think young Greta Thunberg's message was “mandatory left arm amputations for everyone!” rather than “hey, science is real please address climate change.” Oddly enough, few of the voices calling for Greta's head on a pike expressed the slightest concern about the government opening concentration camps on American soil and then filling them with terrified, maltreated, children.

The Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits gave a rambling, distracted, creepy, low-energy, speech at the United Nations, and if this is his mental state at the start of the impeachment battle, I give it three weeks before he staggers out of the residence, wearing nothing but an overlong necktie, demanding that Jim Acosta be brought before him to be roasted on an open fire.

I'm living vicariously through British politics, as Boris Johnson's authoritarian losing streak rolls on. The Supreme Court told him precisely where to stick his attempt to shove Parliament under the bed until the Brexit deadline*, and honestly, has this doofus had one single success since assuming office? You picture him walking into the kitchen, having announced the intention to make himself a ham sandwich, only to emerge, ten hours later, covered in mosquito bites and raw sewage, without having even managed to get the refrigerator door open. Anyway, his own sister's shitting on him now, too, so everything’s coming up Boris, I guess.

So yeah, House Dems decided it was finally time to launch that impeachment investigation, because a motherfucker isn't gonna impeach himself. Well, actually, this one's so fuckin’ dumb he just might, but we can probably expedite the process with hearings.

Tangerine Idi Amin helpfully pitched in, releasing a memo allegedly summarizing his phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, but despite some generous editing, he somehow forgot to take out the part where he commits a very large crime, soliciting dirt on Smilin’ Joe Biden (and his less-smiley son) from a foreign government. It's a bit like starting a game of Clue by telling the players “It was Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the framed fake Time Magazine cover,” but that's none of my business, I'm sure.

Not a single pair of pants in Trumpworld remained un-pissed-in that day, because total confessions tend to complicate legal defenses, or so I'm told. William Barr is frantically trying to redact the door to his office so nobody can find him. Rudy Giuliani and Mike Pompeo are playing a special Under the Bus version of musical chairs, and in a perfect world, they'll both lose. Totally unbidden, Fat Q*Bert himself offered to throw Mike Pants to any wolves who might have developed a taste for brainless theocrat. The loyalty is genuinely inspirational.

Speaking of Giuliani, America's least favorite cousin-fucker is...not taking the week's news particularly well, screeching at every passing reporter and stray cat that he deserves to be hailed as a hero for his noble work spreading long-ago debunked conspiracy theories on behalf of a lawless wannabe dictator. Yeah, Rudes, I don't think Nick Fury's gonna be showing up with an invite any time soon. (Especially now that you seem to be dropping further evidence of your crimes on Twitter, you fucking moron.)

Now, the impeachment battle is gonna be one helluva fight, especially with a such a savvy foe; the Shart House was, in fact, so proud of the talking points they cooked up that they helpfully e-mailed them to Democratic House members. Don't worry though, they quickly sent a follow-up e-mail asking Dems to please not read the talking points and certainly don't share them so everybody can laugh at our blistering incompetence. That second e-mail doesn't seem to have gone through.

(Somehow, despite the circulation of said talking points to every corner of Al Gore's information superhighway, the propaganda puppets on Fux Nooz still feigned great indignation upon being called out for what was, in fairness, truly professional-grade parroting.)

Hilariously, Shart Garfunkel and his GOP stooges are trying to pull some silly “Alas! And we were just about to pass sweeping bipartisan gun control legislation, ‘ere our dastardly Democrat colleagues poisoned the well with their cruel, wanton, law enforcement!” shit. Yeah, I bet that totally works, kids. I bet Gabby Giffords and the whole Moms Demand Action crew are standing in line to get their MAGA caps right now.

And just to really show off those problem-solving skillz, Team Treasonweasel is allegedly looking into hiring Corey Lewandowski to help with the impeachment battle. I wasn't around for Nixon, does the defendant need a lot of female journalists assaulted in order to prevail?

Anyway, after a full day of treating Donald Trump like the world's ugliest piñata over just the transcript, we got to see the whistleblower's complaint, and thus President Crotchrot's Shittiest Week Ever got even worse, and I laughed so fucking hard that I rattled every bone in my body into powder; I'm just a lump of fleshy goo now, fuck knows how I'm even typing this.

The complaint is extra-damning-with-whipped-cream-and-chopped-nuts because it matches up with Weehands McNodick’s own transcript damn near perfectly, blowing a big fat fucking hole in the GOP plot to spin it as mere "hearsay,” essentially nothing but the bitchy gossip of a disgruntled deep state rat. Again, it's a whodunnit that tells you whodunnit on the fucking cover of the book.

Oh, and we also learned that President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been hiding his communications with Ukraine, and God only knows what else, on a Super Secret Special Server, and now I'm waiting for Trey Gowdy to call a press conference announcing he's joining the Democratic Party before personally breaking into the West Wing to seize that bad boy in the name of national security.

Now, it's probably too soon to judge, but I have to say, I was quite impressed with the pilot episode of The Impeachment Show. Adam Schiff is a compelling lead, and his “the rule of law should matter” argument, while controversial (it seems), intrigues me. Today's hearing with acting DNI Joseph Maguire left every fan in Washington covered in poo, and we're just getting warmed up.

Devin “Pigfucker” Nunes, who desperately wants to block for his Turd Emperor, but isn't very good at it, on account of being dumber than pudding cup, suggested that what Democrats were really after wasn't the truth, but rather nude photos of Donnie Two-Scoops. Now, this was a deceptively shrewd move, betting that by putting such an utterly revolting image in viewers’ minds, millions of Americans would instantly change the channel, and thus wouldn't hear about all the crimez and cover-ups and whatnot.

Now, the Velveeta Vulgarian is facing this existential threat to his crime spree, er, “presidency” with all the grace and dignity we've come to expect of him, suggesting to a crowd at a private event for the United States Mission to the United Nations that the whistleblower and his sources were essentially spies, and thus can join Joe Biden in the line for the electric chair. Now, on one hand, this adds a few counts (witness tampering, anyone?) to the impeachment buffet (and no “hearsay” here, there are tapes, lordy), but on the other this is THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES CALLING FOR THE MURDER OF THOSE WHO REVEAL HIS CRIMES and honestly, forget the stooges like Lindsey Graham and the loons like Jim Jordan, you just want to ask, say, Lamar Alexander or Roy Blunt, “Hey, bro, you thinking about maybe drawing a line before he orders his hate mob to start assassinating people?”

(Side note: gosh it's just SO hard to believe this execution-happy thug would threaten to withhold aid from a foreign country if he didn't get his trick or treat bag filled with cold cheeseburgers and kompromat, isn't it?)

Anyway, no sooner had Government Cheese Goebbels announced his desire to kill his way out of this whole “impeachment” kerfuffle, than the New York Times helpfully popped up to publish a Pocket Guide to Everything We Know About the Whistleblower, possibly enough to help the dolt squad in the White House figure out his identity. Between the presidential death threats and the near-instantaneous doxxing, you really wonder why more folks haven't come forward.

And you know what's REALLY amazing? Wilbur Ross is sleeping through all this shit. Somebody give the ol’ fellah a nudge, he may have died.

Shit, Cap, what's the good news in the midst of this shitstorm? The good news, my dear friends, is that in November of last year, all our hard work paid off, and we flipped the House. If we hadn't, not only wouldn't these hearings be taking place, we'd almost certainly never have heard about this whistleblower in the first place; they'd have buried the complaint, and Diamond Joe would probably have been extradited to Kiev for a show trial by now. These stretches between voting opportunities are long as fuck, but we're making the most of ‘em, aren't we?

I almost hate to bring you back down after all the inspirational shit in that last paragraph, but it is my solemn duty to deliver unto you this super-sad article about the chaos and infighting tearing apart Fux Nooz in this, the Age of Impeachment. Trigger warning: fuckhead-on-fuckhead violence.

Ok, that's a wrap for now. At the rate things're moving, this news'll probably be stale and forgotten by the time you read it, but if I don't start drinking now, the beer'll go bad. See you soon, Resisters!

P.S. - Congrats, Shart-Shart! You made the cover of Time!

*Up his ass, is the joke. Or “arse,” I suppose.

Instead of Godot, We're Waiting for Decent Republicans Who'll Put Country Before Party (Ferret/SC)

Man, Amtrak is phasing out the dining car! I love long train trips, and a solid 60% of the craziest conversations I've ever had have come in those charming-if-forced social interactions. The end of an era. Lucky for me, the news contains more than enough abject insanity to fill the void. Let's dive in, shall we?

(As always, you can find this post, with all them helpful news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/instead-of-godot-were-waiting-for-decent-republicans-wholl-put-country-before-party-with-similar-results/)

Vice President Mike Pants made history (as usual, the bad kind), bludgeoning his way through Mackinac Island, Michigan, in an eight-vehicle motorcade, despite a century-old ban on cars, because the current administration never misses an opportunity to demonstrate their sneering disdain for their constituents. Anyway, if you want to take a big fat dump in the middle of a must-win swing state's breakfast cereal, I say go right ahead, Hairshirt Mike.

Checking in on the information superhighway, the latest viral trend is videos of people climbing Hairplug Himmler's Big Stupid Wall with the greatest of ease! Fucking hell, have you ever seen anything that encapsulates Trump and Trumpism more perfectly? Flagrantly racist, unwanted and unnecessary, paid for via an unconstitutional power grab that fucks over people all over the country...and it doesn't even fucking WORK. It's a wall. It has ONE JOB.

I guess all you snowflakes are still mad about the whole “blackmailing a foreign nation to fabricate dirt on a political opponent” thing, huh? And the bit where Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot and his craven enablers pivoted to attacking the whistleblower who revealed his treasonous conduct as a partisan deep state hack, without a moment's hesitation or a shred of evidence, got under your skin, too? Aw, are you TRIGGERED by treason? Would you like a SAFE SPACE from the lawless wannabe tyrant burning the whole fucking country down in order to stay out of jail?

Yeah, me too. When I'm triggered, I like to funnel my energy into defeating the cowardly, complicit, Republican Party wherever it rears its shitty little head, don't you? Anyway, back to the crimez...

Y'know, Rex Tillerson was mightily shitty as Secretary of State, and undoing the damage he did at Foggy Bottom will take years, but my God, give me a hundred Tillersons over one Mike Pompeo, coldly parroting his Turd Emperor's brazen lies on live teevee. Gotta admit, this shit sends a chill down my spine; you watch the Pompeo interview, you see a guy shamelessly breaking the law without an ounce of fear of eventual consequences, because he's grown comfortable with an image of himself as Deputy Führer in a theocratic American Reich that will reign for ten thousand years, and I'll live to see your head on a pike, pompous journalist scum.

Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag got in on the gaslighting fun, too, denouncing the dastardly-though-imaginary crimes of Hunter Biden, only to vanish in a puff of logic when Jake Tapper pointed out the entire Grift Family Robinshart is traveling the world, at taxpayer expense, stuffing their filthy little pockets with anything that's not nailed down. Starting to understand why Stevie Boy doesn't get dispatched to th’shows more frequently.

Willard Romney issued a statement, consisting of the weakest imaginable sauce, filtered through whitest slice of bread on the fucking planet, and debate ensued as to whether or not statues should be erected in his honor for this flimsiest of gestures, because we've come to a point in American history where we have higher expectations for a spontaneous unicorn stampede in downtown Detroit than for elected Republicans to stand up for the rule of law. Meanwhile, folks keep pointing out the way Ben Sasse's once-loudly-professed principles have vanished like a wad of cotton candy that's been dropped in a puddle. Anyway, I'm glad to belong to the one party that still values patriotism.

So now I guess we get to wait for Bronco Billy Barr to release his hand-doctored version of the Ukraine call transcript. I wouldn't worry about it; after all, he was so fair and thorough in his representation of the Mueller report. The real action, as smarter folks than yer humble blogger have pointed out, is the whistleblower's complaint, which I assume is being launched into the sun as we speak, alongside Sharty McFly's tax returns.

Replacement Sarah Slanders/Not Our Real Mom Stephanie Grisham says she won't be bringing back daily press briefings any time soon, because accountability is for CUCKS, and also because doing the job we the people pay her to do might cut into her drinking and driving time.

The Alaska GOP jumped on the Fuck Voters and Fuck Voting Fuck Them Both So Very Very Hard bandwagon, canceling their 2020 primary to spare Baron Golfin von Fatfuk the trouble of making his case to the people he's been failing so spectacularly and regularly. Hey, when a political party repeatedly demonstrates its eagerness to do away with all that pesky democracy, that seems to me like the sort of thing that might merit a bit more fucking attention than it's getting.

Dinesh D'Souza, like so many right-wing grifters, relies on generating attention-getting outrage in order to snatch up his share of that sweet, sweet, rube money, and so he decided to call Greta Thunberg, who, in leading a movement that turned out millions of marchers a few days ago, has accomplished more in 16 years than Dinesh has in his entire misspent life (and with significantly fewer felony convictions), a Nazi. I guess it must be liberating, in a way, to be so divorced from shame and morality that you can casually demonize children, but on balance I prefer not being a raging shitsack.

It's not just foreign countries, desperate for U.S. aid, who've been conscripted, against their will, into the Committee to Re-Elect the Scrotal Tumor, it's you and me, the American taxpayer*! Twenty-eight billion dollars worth of bribes to farmers to please please please vote for him again even though he's hand-delivered your markets, gift-wrapped with a goddamned bow on top, to your competitors...and like everything he touches with his tiny, inadequate, little hands, it's not even fucking working.

Yet another shitty white boy would-be mass-murderer, this time a U.S. solider, was arrested for threatening to bomb a major news network, because while the trade deals aren't materializing and the manufacturing jobs keep on disappearing, the stochastic terrorism is working out quite nicely.

Y’all know Judd Legum, yes? He writes a great independent newsletter called Popular Information and today, he more or less single-handedly took down a gigantic pro-Trump Ukrainian troll farm that had amassed a genuinely terrifying reach on Facebook. Sunshine truly is the best disinfectant, and we should celebrate this significant victory in the War for Reality, probably by supporting Legum's work.

And the Velveeta Vulgarian swung by the United Nations Climate Action Summit just long enough to drop a few overdone steak farts in the room, before wandering out to threaten one of his leading political rivals with capital punishment. The election's more than a year away, and we've already progressed from “Lock her up” to “Fry, Joe, fry?” Is there enough beer in the whole godforsaken world to get me through 2020?

And when he's not lost in erotic fantasies of electrocuting Joe Biden, the Marmalade Shartcannon is off doing what he does best; whining like a rich kid who didn't get the Happy Meal toy he wanted. The Nobel Prize people are soooooo unfair to him, y’see, cuz even if he has yet to accomplish half an inch's worth of actual progress with North Korea, or the Taliban, or Israel, he should get credit for all the praise he's lavished upon himself, which more important than dumb ol’ peace anyway, right?

Old man, you've opened concentration camps where you deny children access to health care and basic hygiene; the Nobel thing is off the table. You'll just have to console yourself with the millions of dollars you've stolen from us taxpayers, 'kay?

Is any of this still funny? Some days I feel like I'm going HA HA THE BASTARDS WHO ARE SYSTEMATICALLY DESTROYING DEMOCRACY ARE POOPYHEADS HA HA. Anyway, it's a bit shorter than usual tonight, probably because everybody's focused on whether the Dotard finally betrayed America too hard this time. I'm choosing to view it as a blessing, I'll be using the extra time to re-read King Lear**.

PS - While I've been workin' up this piece, an avalanche of new Dem Congressfolk, including vulnerable swing district freshmen, have joined the calls to Impeach the Motherfucker already, and I think it's gonna happen. Put on your fightin' shoes, Resisters, they will need our help.

*No disrespect meant to my international readers, also can I sleep on your couch when the Second Civil War starts?

**Or drink and play MarioKart, whichever one lets me drink and play MarioKart.

Has Congress' Discovery of Your Impeachable Crimes Got You Down? Shriek Your Cares Away with Rudy!

I no longer miss 2016, when the government was kinda functional and democracy was relatively healthy; I'm increasingly nostalgic for the comparatively mild insanity of 2017, when Strawberry Shartcake still had a handful of adult babysitters, restraining his worst impulses. Can't we bring back Mattis or McMaster, maybe with one of those toddler leashes?

(And yes, as usual, this post is available, with helpful news links, AT: http://showercapblog.com/rudy-giuliani-rantercise/)

Caesar Salad Cosplayer Sean Spicer tried blaming a poor score on the first episode of Dancing With the Stars on religious persecution, because while a Shart House gig is temporary, the whinging victimhood complex is 4 LYFE. By the way, If there's a heaven, there won't be any Trump Administration officials there, Sean. The works you have done on Earth have been evil, you have betrayed your country, your religion, and humanity in general. And that was before your crimes against dance; you're beyond lost now.

Speaking of whining, the Pentagon is complaining about all the suddenly underfunded projects abandoned in the frenzy to finance the Big Stupid Wall Nobody Wants. Sorry, campers, you should've stood up to Government Cheese Goebbels’ unconstitutional power grab when you had the chance; if the President can dodge the congressional appropriations process by raiding the military budget whenever he feels like it, knowing the coffers will simply be refilled at the earliest opportunity, we don't have a republic anymore, we have a dictatorship. Y’all are supposed to FIGHT for your country; I believe there was even an oath.

Not that a silly little thing like an oath means much, to, say, a sneering mediocrity like Corey Lewandowski, who used a hearing before the House Judiciary Committee to launch a potential Senate campaign, apparently on an “owning the libs” platform. And I get that; when you're a post-accomplishments party with nothing but unpopular policy proposals, irritating the other team is really all you have to offer. But even the trolling fun stopped when counsel Barry Berke took over questioning and nailed Corey's hopelessly subpar ass to the wall. And there may even be contempt charges coming, how fun!

I was on a nice little run of functional transitions there, but that's all over now. Anyway, we keep learning more about just how much taxpayer money the Air Force has been funneling into the Grifter Grand Wizard's pockets via financing sleepovers at his floundering Scottish golf resort; it looks like they, and by they of course I mean WE, because it is OUR FUCKING MONEY, may have been his best damn customer lately. Do we at least get a free toaster oven out of that? If so, I'm calling dibs on that shit.

And the Party of Family Values just keeps on churnin’ out pedophiles, this time in the Pennsylvania Senate. Regrettably, Mike Folmer resigned before Shart Garfunkel could swing by to hold a rally for him.

24 state attorneys general are suing the Taintfungus Administration over their petulant insistence on punishing all life on Earth out of spite at California, via eliminating the fifth largest economy in the world's right to set their own auto emissions standards. I hope the inevitable Waterworld remake (which may wind up being a goddamn documentary) mentions how much responsibility lies with a single tantruming manchild.

While strangling the environment with one (tiny, inadequate) hand, with the other, Tangerine Idi Amin is cynically manipulating an EPA rule to punish San Francisco, tossing around horseshit accusations that the homeless there are filling the ocean with needles or some such drivel. It's a little weird, having a government that's always looking for loopholes in order to find new ways to shit on Americans, but at least we didn't elect that e-mail lady.

There's so much reprehensible crap going on, I can't even keep track of what's happening with Iran. Having set the whole fucking process back several turns, without passing Go or collecting $200, by backing out of Obama's carefully negotiated arrangement, the Shart of the Deal imposed new sanctions, in a bid to make up some of the ground he cleverly gave up in exchange for nothing, but I don't think we're at war yet, right? (Somebody in the comments is gonna go, "Cap, are you okay? We've been at war with Iran for nine months. Your cat was drafted,” and I'll go “Right! I should send her a care package!”)

Domestically, the Hairplug That Ate Decency diligently continues his efforts to get Congresswoman Ilhan Omar killed, tweeting out a fake video claiming she danced with glee on 9/11. Aside from being absolutely fucking awful, this accusation just isn't remotely credible. Who would be that crass? It'd be like bragging about having the tallest building in Manhattan while the rubble was still smoking, and nobody's that...wait.

We could use a little comic relief right about now, huh? How about we all sit down, crack a beer, and take a moment to watch the Handsomest Senator, New Mexico's Martin Heinrich, humiliate ridiculous, lying, gun nut John Lott over his history of using fake internet profiles to post fawning comments on his own articles?

Once you're done gut-laughing, spare a shudder for the realization that one of America's two great political parties has descended into such intellectual squalor that they could think of no more fitting witness for a congressional hearing than a sad little clown who spends his days complimenting himself on the internet. And if you're all, “be fair, Cap, it's not that bad,” allow me to point you to Exhibit B: Candace Owens’ (yes, the Hitler Lady) stupefyingly moronic musings at another congressional hearing, on white supremacy, which she says is no biggie, what's a little mass-murder here and there among friends?

Former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson re-emerged to tell everybody that Benjamin Netanyahu was really good at manipulating Lil' Donnie Two-Scoops with misinformation, and, like, DUH. If a gibbering, inbred, twit like Kim Jong-un can make him jump through hoops, just IMAGINE what a pro like Netanyahu (or that one fellah, Vlad something?) could do. Fuck, if you painted a door with “teen beauty pageant dressing room” on it on a brick wall, he'd keep running into it until he knocked himself out.

In other Netanyahu news, looks like Bibi lost his election, HA FUCKING HA. None of y’all authoritarian dirtbags should get too comfortable; like any other fad, the world is moving on, hopefully before we spend all our allowance money on slap bracelets and concentration camps.

I guess Stephen Miller has a girlfriend now, and I'm trying to imagine the inner life of the person would look at Eichmann, But Meaner and Less Attractive and think “mmmm, I want me some of that!” Meryl fucking Streep couldn't figure that role out.

For a guy who likes to decorate with paintings of himself hanging out with Jesus, Ben Carson sure is an utterly immoral jagoff. I guess the mega-genius who thinks the pyramids were built to store grain thinks it's super funny to mock transgender people, and let me just say I am definitely not watching whatever reality show this hateful jackass eventually lands on.

Hey, speaking of the unbridled hate of the current administration, Betsy DeVos’ Department of Education is threatening to cut off funding to Duke and UNC unless they turn their Middle East studies program over to Frank Gaffney and Pam Geller, chastising the schools for focusing on “the positive aspects of Islam.” Look, all this controversy could be avoided if the government would simply issue clear guidelines on precisely how much bigotry these grants require; like, do you have to wear Klan robes in the classroom, or would a little swastika pin on the collar be sufficient?

Anyway, that wraps up the week's news. Unless you want me to hit this “whisteblower” thing real quick? It's pretty dull, honestly, just “high crimes and misdemeanors” stuff. Oh, fine.

See there was this whistleblower, and he* blew his whistle, because If You See Something, Say Something, and he fuckin’ SAW SOMETHING. And the law says such whistleblower complaints must be turned over to the U.S. Congress, but if the criminal cabal squatting in our executive branch is willing to violate the emoluments clause of Constitution for the sake of some petty bribes at tacky hotels, they sure as fuck aren't going to turn over evidence of impeachment-worthy felonies, and so Redactor General Billy Barr stuffed the complaint down the front of his pants, and dared Congress to come and get it. Adam Schiff, a braver man than I, fuckin’ went for it, and in doing so alerted the world to the thrilling new season of Donald Trump Obstructs Justice.

Details of the complaint trickled out one by one, like a terrifyingly-high-stakes game of twenty questions. The complaint involves the Marmalade Shartcannon himself. The complaint covers multiple incidents. The complaint involves a mysterious “promise” made to a foreign leader. The complaint is bigger than a breadbox.

You knew shit was serious when Rudy Giuliani felt the need to take a break from jerking off to old photos of his own kin to try peddling his bullshit spin on CNN. Now I'm not qualified to give legal advice**, but I think when your personal lawyer is shrieking like a community theatre actor auditioning for Titus Andronicus and confessing to major crimes, live on TV, things aren't exactly going your way.

And then the dam burst, and we learned that it was what we all knew it was all along; the President of the United States, a cornered animal, desperate to cling to the legal immunity granted by his office, but terrified to face an electorate that loathes him because he's a 300-pound bag of rhino shit who absolutely sucks at his job, repeatedly tried to blackmail the government of Ukraine into opening a bogus investigation into Joe Biden, the affable septuagenarian who has led him in literally every poll ever conducted on the subject.

It's an enormous crime, and honestly, I just hope we can win our country back before the Offal in the Oval rots it into nothingness.

How, in the midst of today's so-many-impeachable-offenses-I've-lost-fucking-count shitstorm can I find even a glimmer of positive news to leave my readers with a hopeful smile? Friends, it's not even hard. Did you see the turnout at the global climate strike marches? Millions of people, all around the world, led by the whippersnapper demographic. The future looks downright fuckin’ bright, and the present? Well, there's some welcome-if-morbid demographic data on that front as well...

Holy fuck, y’all. I think we've earned our weekend. And by “weekend,” I mean “beer.” And by “beer,” I mean “thirty beers.”

PS - We're sending troops to Saudi Arabia now, WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

*Or she, but the Scumfuck-in-Chief is already saying “he,” though I'm sure he's followed all the laws forbidding him to view the complaint, wink wink.

** Why would you want legal advice from a drunken lunatic in a mask and a bathrobe? Just google "lawyers near me." Christ.

The One With Brett Kavanaugh's Junk (Ferret/Shower Cap)

So, I enjoyed a much-needed weekend away from the headlines, partaking of good music and good company at this year's Riot Fest. Regrettably, I did not take any drugs while I was there, so I'm forced to conclude all this news I'm catching up on today is tragically real, rather than just the shittiest trip ever. Fuck.

(And you know this, but you can find this blog, with all those helpful news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/the-one-with-brett-kavanaughs-junk/)

We've all watched Beto O'Rourke emerge as a defiant voice for gun control these last few weeks, (I guess a white supremacist terror attack in your beloved hometown gets under your skin) and naturally the gun nut crowd is displeased. So displeased in fact, that some swollen buttpimple by the name of Briscoe Cain, who, despite a few readily-apparent personality disorders, has become a member of the Texas House of Representatives, threatened to murder him on Twitter. I dunno, if I was arguing to keep assault weapons legal, I would probably avoid making public death threats, but then, I suppose I would also be as malicious, stupid, and crazy as Briscoe Cain.

Deep State Judicial Wizards have resurrected a previously-dismissed emoluments clause lawsuit against the Marmalade Shartcannon, raising hopes that the rule of law might still be a thing. Remember back when “hey, the presidency isn't an invitation to leave a bribe jar on the edge of the Resolute desk, asshole” was a bipartisan position?

Because we live in hell, our Dolt President is justifying his war on energy-efficient light bulbs by complaining that they make him look orange. Setting aside the catastrophic price all life on Earth is being asked to pay to feed a petty narcissist’s vanity, let me just point out that it isn't the lighting that makes him look like a saggy, dead-eyed, mound of bacon grease with the pissed-in straw from the bottom of a rabbit cage on top, either.

Princess Ivanka told a roomful of megarich GOP donor jagoffs she got her moral compass from her father, which likely means he initially grabbed it out of some other woman's pussy, possibly even while Ivanka's mom was pregnant with her, and gave it to her as an Xmas gift. Anyway, that's not a compass, that's a plunger that's been used so much it's falling to pieces.

One of the cool things about Fux Nooz (if you're absolutely fucking awful, anyway) is that you can go on and say “Hey, remember all the super-racist shit that one terrorist mass-murderer said to justify his racist terrorist mass-murder? I think he was super-right about that stuff!” Job-Outsourcing Hitler Youth Tomi Lahren certainly took advantage of that opportunity, ranting about the need for all patriotic (white) Americans to keep small arsenals in order to shoot immigrants, and I'm sure it brings a smile to the El Paso terrorist's face, seeing his beliefs parroted from such a potent platform.

But it's not all waffles and stochastic terrorism over at Shart Garfunkel's personal propaganda outlet, as a federal appeals court reinstated Seth Rich's parents’ lawsuit, which will hopefully deter the right-wing shitbagosphere from further terrorizing grieving families with nutjob conspiracy theories designed to keep their rube audience in a state of perpetual frenzy. Looking at YOU, Alex Jones.

The parasitic Sackler family is using every arcane trick they can find to shuffle their money around in order to maintain the lavish lifestyle they've built for themselves atop an almost inconceivably high stack of American corpses. Whether they're transferring hundreds of millions to shady Swiss bank accounts or trying to minimize damages by having their opioid-dispensing murder machine, Purdue Pharma, file for bankruptcy, these tar-souled demons are just looking for a little discount on their long-overdue accountability, is that really any different than clipping the Sunday coupons?

An intelligence community whistleblower filed a complaint last month, but the DNI insists on hiding it from the American people and Congress, because look, Donald Trump is having a hard enough time making the case for re-election just with the crimes we already know about. Similarly, Bronco Billy Barr says the House Judiciary Committee can't see can't see the grand jury files from the Mueller investigation because of whatever bullshit Calvinball rules he pulled out of his ass this time, because fuck you, we're just running out the clock, whaddya gonna do about it, Nadler?

The Nazism is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE at the Department of Homeland Security, where some mystery fuckhead apparently felt comfortable tagging the joint with a swastika. DHS. I guess I was hoping the first fascist graffiti in the executive branch would pop up somewhere comparatively less horrifying, like maybe on the outside of Scott Pruitt's old soundproof wank booth, but I suppose I really ought to be used to disappointment (and atrocity) by now.

So I guess I have to talk about Brett Kavanaugh's penis now. We keep learning terrible new things about this penis. Things that are as far from "harmless fun" as they could possibly be, whatever the New York Times says. It is a penis with a history of being shoved into the hands and faces of women who did not want Brett Kavanaugh's penis shoved anywhere near them. It is a penis whose nefarious activities Brett Kavanaugh seems to have lied about, repeatedly, under oath, during his Senate confirmation hearings, which is a crime, and probably grounds for impeachment. It is a very bad penis indeed.

The Republican response to these new, credible, corroborated, allegations that absolutely fit a well-established pattern has been righteous indignation on behalf of the victims. Wait, that's not quite right; I mean “righteous indignation on behalf of the abuser.” The GOP wants us to know the real (or “only" victim here is the lying, drunken creep who has only ever wanted to use his position of privilege and power to make life shittier for all the little people.

Ted Cruz, taking a page from his Turd Emperor's playbook, assaulted the media for conducting the investigation he and his stooge colleagues were so desperate to avoid. Lindsey Graham, still perplexed at women voters’ jarring shift away from his party in 2018, certainly isn't going to let the “scurrilous accusations” of a common whore force him to do anything silly like “uphold the law.” And we can now add what I'll call the “Shapiro Standard” to the lexicon, thanks to Creeptastic Manboy Ben Shapiro's skeevy insistence that no sexual assault accusation is credible if the victim can't carve a perfect facsimile of the attacker's genitals from a block of marble.

Yeah, Kavanaughty is such a fundamentally dishonest person, you wouldn't trust him with manager's keys at a 7-11, but Republicans think it's appalling to suggest he shouldn't remain one of the most powerful human beings in the world. And Redactor General William Barr, looking to rub salt in America's wounds, actually gave the team who shepherded the scummy little dirtbag's confirmation through the Senate in spite of his crimes a prestigious award, usually reserved for badasss prosecutors who fuck up terrorists or organized crime rings, because turning the greatest democratic experiment in human history into a festering pile of rhino shit is the Republican Party's motherfucking mission statement.

Following a drone attack on an oil processing facility in Saudi Arabia, the Offal in the Oval took to the Pneumatic Tweeting Machine to proclaim, “Fear not, America, I am dutifully perched by the phone, awaiting instructions from my foreign paymasters,” further vowing to blindly accept the findings of the same murderous thugs who concluded Jamal Khashoggi ran into a doorknob and dismembered himself. Obviously, when he says “America first,” that wasn't meant to cover the military chain of command, which, according the Constitution, ends in Riyadh.

(Starting a new Middle East war ten minutes after defenestrating John Bolton seems tauntingly cruel, like buying a child the pony they've always wanted, only to cook it and eat it right in front of them.)

One of the signs of Hairplug Himmler's rapid mental decline is the increased sloppiness of the gaslighting. In attacking the dastardly fake news media for reporting that he would merrily meet with Iran with nary a pre-condition, the Dotard seems to have forgotten about all of the times he said he would do just that, with own little sphincter of a mouth. In front of cameras. Or all the times he marched one of his toadies out to say so. Again, in front of cameras. Look, if you want to destroy the very idea of objective reality, put the fucking work in, you lazy lump.

Manhattan prosecutors have subpoenaed 8 years’ worth of Fat Q*Bert's tax returns, and they've even ordered his lawyers to clean all the grubby, oddly-small, burger grease fingerprints off of ‘em before delivery. Anyway, we're probably less than a week away from Old Shartful ordering the entire U.S. Army to protect his most desperately-guarded criminal secrets from the long arm of the law.

Milo Yagotnoplatformnomo has officially been evicted from a furry convention, continuing the most hilarious and well-deserved downward spiral in human history. I sincerely hope this Scumbag Humiliation show gets renewed for several more seasons.

And just like that, all the pleasant feelings from my riotous weekend have been washed away in a flood of news sewage. Sigh. It's vital to renew the soul from time to time, but the work remains, doesn't it, Resisters?

You Know Things're Bad When John Bolton Gets Fired, and You Don't Even Have Time to Celebrate (F/SC)

Y'know, in the future, when we've finally removed President Crotchvoid from office, I imagine newspapers will just SMELL better, don't you? Without all the incessant malice and blundering and hate? We've gotta put up with it for a little while longer, I suppose, so hold your nose and let's wade through this week's sewage.

(As always, you can find this post, with all those mega-rad news links, at:http://showercapblog.com/you-know-thingsre-bad-when-john-bolton-gets-fired-and-you-dont-even-have-time-to-celebrate/)

The heartwarming story of an aging neocon warhawk plucked off the scrap heap late in life to scratch one last imperialist war off his bucket list was cut tragically short this week, when John Bolton resigned. Or Shart Garfunkel fired him. Who cares, there are no good guys here, just lock ‘em both in a room with fix or six hammers and let the lord sort ‘em out, says I.

Speaking of bad guy vs. bad guy, Darrell Issa, who fled Congress in 2018, having lost the support of his constituents, apparently wants to primary Wounded-Warrior-Mocking Congressgrifter Duncan Hunter in his much safer Republican district. Seriously, no need for debates in this contest, just two absolute scuzzbuckets who begin equidistant from a table containing a solitary hammer, a ref blows a whistle, they both break for it, and whatever happens, happens.

Staying with this topic for another moment (I'll take ‘Shitweasel Infighting’ for $600, Alex), Liz Cheney and Rand Paul are feuding, too, over who can kneel more cravenly before Boss Turdmaggot. No hammers are necessary here; the complete, public, loss of dignity is sufficient punishment.

CNN reports that the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits is, and I can't fucking believe I'm typing this, opposed to the practice of gathering intelligence from covert foreign sources, because of course a pampered rich boy who's too incompetent to succeed at the FUCKING CASINO BUSINESS knows better than career intelligence professionals. Now, “Trump rejects intelligence” seems like low-hanging fruit here, so maybe I should go with “Idiot Russian stooge threatens entire national security apparatus.” Seriously, somebody's going to stop him before he pulls the plug on the very idea of “having spies where we need them,” right?

...right?

White House staffers have noted the Manchurian Manchild is going through adult diapers at an even higher rate than usual (and D.C. already required a dedicated landfill), owing to recent polls showing his approval rating sinking ever deeper into the Swamps of What Did You Fucking Expect, You Moron. Demonstrating his nimble political skills, the above-mentioned Manchild deployed a series of petulant tweets, calling the polls’ veracity into question, cuz nothing gets your numbers up quite like delusional whinging.

And Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet was so happy that it only took a personal presidential visit, 8 million dollars, and an unearned do-over following the revelation of a massive election fraud scheme to squeak out the narrowest of wins in a +14R district, that he threw himself a party with cold Big Macs and piss hookers. He's actually pouting that he's not getting more credit for the victory, when of course he's the one responsible for this making this cinnamon-gummy-bear-red district competitive in the first place.

The annual 9/11 anniversary is a time when all patriotic Americans reflect somberly on the greatest national tragedy of our lifetimes. Knowing this, the scatmunching filthpiles of the North Carolina House GOP seized the opportunity to ram an override of Governor Roy Cooper's budget veto through while their Democratic colleagues were at a ceremony honoring first responders. They lost their veto-proof majority, and the governor's mansion, you see, because the people of their state voted for change, but they don't WANT to surrender the corresponding power, because they are fascists.

Of course the Veryfine Valor Thief marked 9/11 with his trademark blend of undignified griping and self-aggrandizing lies. You sort of wish Dante were still around, so you could get a nice, detailed, description of the afterlife torments awaiting the kind of loathsome shitsack who would lie about helping out at Ground Zero.

Going forward, I will be devoting a special sub-section of this blog to the Fake Alabama Hurricane story, because it will never fucking die; I may even have to figure out some way to finance a special Fake Alabama Hurricane correspondent. Did the order to lie about the goddamn weather in service to the presidential ego come from Mick Mulvaney? Or from the Hairplug That Ate Decency himself? I never imagined the battle for American democracy would get this stupid.

The Reigning Reich, excuse me, the “Trump Administration” announced that they will not be granting temporary protected status to our Bahamian neighbors, even in the aftermath of the hurricane that devastated their home country. It's a testament to the expected senseless cruelty of these monsters that this news, while abominable and unforgivable, didn't surprise anyone anywhere. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that no Miller/Bolton consensus emerged to invade the islands while they're vulnerable.

The Supreme Court allowed the Shart Administration to implement their draconian Make America White Again asylum policy, while the issue is being decided in the courts, a rare legal victory for the autocratic velociraptors who've been testing the electric fence of the rule of law for weaknesses. Yes, the very Supreme Court we lost when third-party voters in the Rust Belt decided to drive Mitch McConnell's getaway car during his heist of Scalia's seat. It's almost as if elections have consequences or somethin’.

Ben Sasse joined Ted Cruz, Lindsey Graham, and the rest of the institutional Republican Party in trading in his principled opposition to Trump and Trumpism for a leash, a pat on the head, and a “good boy” from his Turd Emperor, accepting Littlefinger's endorsement for his 2020 re-election campaign. Well if he loses, I look forward to his TED talk on self-performed vertebrae-removal surgery.

Dana Loesch, in her new job as sneering spokesdemon for the National Vaping Association, responded to proposed new e-cigarette bans by proclaiming “the only thing that stops a bad lung with a pack of Marlboro lights is a good lung with a vape pen,” and obviously I'm joking but a dozen people probably got shot just while you read this paragraph and we're still doing precisely jack about that but don't worry your government is ALL OVER this vaping shit.

Moody's Analytics reports that Donnie Dotard's cud-brained trade war has already crotch-punted the American economy to the tune of 300,000 jobs, which could swell to 900,000 by the end of the next year if he doesn't stop ATTACKING HIS OWN FUCKING COUNTRY ON PURPOSE. Seriously, if his deal with Putin was “I'll bail you out of debt if you just fuck the United States up as much as you possibly can,” what, precisely, would he be doing differently?

Seems the Fascist Farthuffer's Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, has been whiling away the hours in prison indulging in his thrilling new hobby; singing like a fucking canary. Yes, the New York district attorney's office has been talking with the Sensei of Sez-Hoo about his old boss’ habit of paying out hush money, which is apparently frowned upon by law-enforcement types, who knew?

And the Let's See How Much Evil Shit We Can Get Away With Administration is reportedly looking for potential sites to warehouse homeless people in California, because once you get hooked on locking human beings up in cages, it's hard to quit. You didn't think they would stop with concentration camps just for migrants, did you?

Just because he failed in his attempts to repeal the ACA doesn't mean Tangerine Idi Amin has stopped trying to kill us all; now he's undoing Obama-era clean water protections, making it easier to dump toxic chemicals into our nation's waterways! Golly, we're just rocketing backwards towards American greatness at light speed, aren't we? Remember that time the Beaver got dysentery from the tap water in his home and almost died? CLASSIC television.

So I guess the ICEtapo is building a fun little “urban warfare” theme park/training center, where they can practice breaking up families, terrorizing children, and other atrocities in “hyper-realistic” facsimiles of homes and commercial buildings, how FUN. Now if you're concerned about an increasingly lawless, overtly racist, police force seeking to get better at waging war in America's streets, you're just a bleeding heart chicken little cuck and yes it's a coincidence that the “hyper-realistic” home in the training facility looks just like your house right down to the socks behind the dryer.

Jerry Nadler and the House Judiciary Committee rolled out their shiny new impeachment inquiry rules today, and the first rule of the impeachment inquiry is that you do not talk about the impeachment inquiry. Except at the publicly televised hearings, starting next week with Violent Scumbag/Potential Senate Candidate Corey Lewandowski, of course.

We caught the Israelis spying on us, directly on Strawberry Shartcake in fact, and the Man Who is Somehow Both Conman and Mark responded by saying, I shit you not, “I don’t think the Israelis are spying on us. I really would find that hard to believe.” The next president shouldn't be a CLUELESS FUCKING RUBE, is what I think.

Hey, if you've harbored a lifelong dream of living in a banana republic, I have great news, because we've officially entered the “prosecuting political enemies” phase of this shitshow, as former deputy FBI Director Andrew McCabe looks to be facing charges over his dastardly treatment of Hillary Clinton in 2016, which we know matters deeply to the current administration. Still, I bet if they get away with using the awesome powers of the state to crush this one particular critic, they'll be totally satiated, and they'll stop. Just like with the camps.

Ok folks, I am out for the weekend, attending Riot Fest in Chicago, where I will pretend I'm punk rather than a bathrobe-clad dork who reads political news all day long. Any mistakes in today's blog are attributable to the editing phase of the evening bleeding into the drinking/debate-watching phase; please forgive me.

Wilbur Ross Earned His Junior Dictator Decoder Ring This Week (Ferret/Shower Cap)

I'm increasingly convinced none of this is really happening. At some point in the fall of 2016, I took a boat trip that I no longer recollect, during which I was swallowed by a whale, a whale which then swallowed a second boat, packed with hallucinogenic drugs, and I'm just in a coma, inside a whale, constantly inhaling some really bad shit. Hey, it's easier to believe than the actual news.

(And yes, as usual, you can find this post, with all those helpful links, at: http://showercapblog.com/wilbur-ross-earned-his-junior-dictator-decoder-ring-this-week/)

Redactor General William Barr grows more comfortable in his role as chief legal thug to an authoritarian goon every day, and now he's launching a Yes This is a Nakedly Corrupt Abuse of Power That's What We Do Now “antitrust investigation” into four automakers for daring to agree to new emissions standards with the state of California. Defying Dear Leader AND admitting climate change is real? You're lucky you didn't impugn his crowd sizes, there'd be public executions.

Meanwhile, Cult45 High Priest Brad Parscale predicts the Sham Family Robinshart will become a “dynasty,” inflicting their trademark brand of hateful divisiveness and petty crime on America until Fort Knox is empty and Mount Rushmore has eroded in shame. Seems kinda overconfident when you've never come within 3 million votes of a political majority, but Brad also thinks he's pulling off that beard, so...

Speaking of the hopelessly inept, Eric Trump singlehandedly uncovered a nefarious deep state plot to practice the forbidden art of responsible journalism, rage-tweeting about WaPo's David Farenthold's underhanded “tactics” of...politely reaching out to a potential source. Dynasty indeed.

The United States Air Force announced a historic change to their motto, which now reads “to fly, fight, and win—in air, space, and cyberspace, and also to take every available opportunity to funnel taxpayer dollars into the cheap grifter President's tacky, failing, Scottish golf resort.” Yes, our military seems to be rerouting flights and servicemen, at no small extra cost to the Treasury, to Tangerine Idi Amin's little money pit, and I'm telling you, when we finally beat this cheap crook, somebody needs to pat him down on the way out at the next inauguration or he'll make off with the Monroe silver.

So apparently a deal was kinda sorta close with the Taliban, but not really because the Afghan government wasn't involved, but the point is, negotiators were making progress while President Buford T. Dumbshit kept his nose out of it, focusing instead on golf and yelling at sitcom actors. But then he once again pulled what historians will surely call the “Trump Maneuver,” a deceptively-simple three step process during which he:

Smells a chance for personal glory
Swoops into a situation he knows fuckall about
Immediately fucks everything up
Seems he hastily invited all parties, including the fucking Taliban, yes THAT Taliban, to Camp David, because he wanted his picture taken WITH THE TALIBAN. And yes, in no time at all, President Gas Station Urinal Cake's cringeworthy Nobel thirst ruined the whole damn thing, so everybody can get back to their forever war now, thanks for your time. For those keeping score at home, the Shart of the Deal has now made precisely zero deals during his 2 1/2 years in office.

And then, for reasons that would baffle an army of psychiatrists, he told the whole damn world about his fuckup. On Twitter, naturally. Why? Because he's an angry buffoon with no impulse control. Sleep tight, America!

Republicans, upon learning that the head of their party invited the leaders of the very terrorist organization that sheltered Al Qaeda while they planned the 9/11 attacks to Camp Freakin’ David a few short days ahead of the 9/11 anniversary, asked “well, do you still hate immigrants?” and Fat Q*Bert went “more than ever” and the base went “then we cool” because despite Bill Kristol's ongoing bewilderment that his thoughtful essays on whateverthefuckhewritesessaysabout failed to shape modern conservatism to the extent he'd imagined, the GOP is nothing but a white supremacist hate cult. Sure, they'll blindly back the policies you tell them to back, but there are no deeply held beliefs beyond the racism, not even, it would seem, “hey, terrorists are bad.”

Mark Sanford claims to have found a secret branch of the Appalachian Trail that ends up in the Oval Office, and so he's joining Bill Weld and Joe Walsh in the Republican primary field that Sharty McFly totally isn't afraid of, which is clearly demonstrated by all the state-level parties canceling their primaries in terror of incurring the Turd Emperor's tiny-fisted wrath.

While Hurricane Dorian threatened the state he allegedly represents in the United States Senate, Prized Presidential Poodle Lindsey Graham figured it was the perfect time to jet across the Atlantic to take selfies with Eurotrash Megabigot Geert Wilders. I guess ol’ John McCain really was a good influence on Lindsey, he's fallen in with a bad crowd lately. I'm worried he'll wind up in a gang. Or the Klan.

And though the U.S. was largely spared Dorian's wrath, our neighbors in the Bahamas got seriously fucked up, so of course there are refugees. Well, if Government Cheese Goebbels could abandon U.S. citizens in Puerto Rico to die from neglect in the aftermath of a devastating hurricane, he sure as shit isn't going to help people who can't legally donate to American political campaigns, so of course he's inventing any sneaky excuse he can find to refuse desperate Bahamians entry, trotting out some of his favorite old racist tropes in the process. Stephen Miller must have his own version of a Spider Sense, where his bald spot burns like a hemorrhoid whenever there's an opportunity to hurt non-white people in need.

CNN reports that the U.S. intelligence community was forced to extract a highly-placed Russian spy in 2017, after Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot placed their life in danger by “mishandling classified intelligence,” by which I mean “just giving it to the fucking Russians right in the Oval Fucking Office,” and folks, this might finally be the one that makes my brain run screaming from my cranium. What a blow to our country, and what a gift to Putin. Many theorized at the time that he may have put important undercover agents’ lives at risk; what can you do except hope he didn't get any brave people killed?

You try to fathom the damage this rampaging taintfungus is doing to our country; to our national security, to our economy, to our courts, to the very notion of good government, and you can't help but wonder if the people who lived during the decline of the Roman Empire could sense the collapse at the time. Did they have their own Mitch McConnell, holding the door open for the barbarian hordes in exchange for appointing a tax collector or two? We tend to think of Donald Trump as an almost unimaginably horrible president, but the job Uncle Vlad hired him for was Executive America Fucker Upper, and to be honest, his performance has been exemplary.

In the midst of all this fuckery n’ corruption, those closest to the Spray-Tanned Cray-Cray Man are starting to notice that, in addition to the ever-present malice and ignorance, he's now in noticeably rapid mental decline, how fun for everyone! What happens when the shittiest brain on Earth deteriorates into Cheeto dust while still in possession of the full power of the American presidency? Tune in next week to find out!*

Politico reports Jerry Falwell, Jr. is not, as he would have you believe, an extraordinarily pious fellow, but in fact a bullying grifter and also kinda pervy, and I hope you had a fainting couch nearby when you read this paragraph. Anyway, why'm I spending my time crafting poo jokes for the occasional six-pack instead of going after the big money in the right-wing rube-o-sphere? Whaddya think, folks? Would you join my mega-church? It's BYOB.

President How Dare You Call Me Racist While I'm Burning This Cross capped off another weekend of failing to fill the gaping hole in his withered soul by going on a lengthy Twitter rant, berating numerous famous non-white folks for showing insufficient gratitude for his primarily-fictional achievements. And the Candycorn Skidmark is, frankly, extremely fortunate the Constitution doesn't allow the presidency to change hands when the incumbent gets his ass thoroughly owned on social media, or we'd be swearing in Chrissy Teigen right now.

Well, the party's finally started up, you bring the nachos and guac, Jerry Nadler's bringing the Nixon-style rules for the impeachment inquiry! Who knows, if this thing gets really nuts, maybe we'll all wind up doing body shots out of Don McGahn's navel on the House floor!

Rudy Giuliani's search history likely reads “are conjugal visits with your cousin allowed in federal prison?” right now, because multiple congressional committees have opened investigations into his “nice country you got here, Ukraine, shame if it got invaded by Putin because we're withholding millions in aid unless you make up some fake shit about Joe Biden being a crime boss” thing. It's getting so you can't even commit blackmail on the global stage without snooty liberals getting all law-enforcey.

One of the requirements for being a Republican in the 21st century is the ability to stubbornly refuse to accept even the most obvious solutions to any given problem whenever said solutions interfere with the donor class’ bottom line, and so, at a time when ever-expanding majorities are demanding common-sense gun control legislation before the whole goddamn country turns into one big hunting preserve for every incel with a grudge, the Shart Administration figures it'd just be easier to monitor everybody's phone to figure out if they're “mentally ill” and about to turn violent, so they can be disappeared, Minority-Report-style. Yeah, rather than just making it harder for any lunatic to arm themself like they're bound for downtown Fallujah, let's just give a terrifyingly unconstitutional expansion of the surveillance state a spin, shall we?

Because we live in Hell, not only are we STILL talking about the Velveeta Vulgarian's idiot proclamation that all that stood between Alabama and Hurricane Dorian was the grace of God and wall made of out of Trump steaks that Mexico paid for, but it's mutated into one of the largest, and somehow simultaneously dumbest-and-scariest, scandals in American history.

To recap, Donnie Two-Scoops was wrong about something, which is a fairly commonplace event, really, something that happens at least a dozen times almost every day. But unlike, say, his Dipshit Trade War, which is destroying billions of dollars in wealth and ruining god knows how many lives, this mistake was relatively harmless, and we should have all quickly moved on, like we did that time he went on Hannity to claim he invented buttons.**

When his clever Sharpie forgery failed to silence the naysayers, the Marmalade Shartcannon finally snuck into the NOAA offices to steal some stationary, on which he issued an unsigned statement proclaiming up to be down, down to be east, and east to be a special Nobel Prize for Accuracy in Weather Forecasting. This is some Playground Orwell shit, folks.

But now we find that Wilbur Ross, Prince of Naps and SECRETARY OF THE WHOLE MOTHERFUCKING COMMERCE DEPARTMENT threatened to fire any NOAA employees who dared to contradict Boss Turdworm's long-since-debunked Alabama prophecy. Yeah. A cabinet secretary threatening government employees for fulfilling their legal responsibility to deliver accurate information about potentially life-threatening weather events to the American people. It's petty and embarrassing, but it's also authoritarian as fuck, and if Wilbur still has job by this time tomorrow, I expect a small army of zombie founding fathers to rise from their graves and drag him away.

Oh, and if anybody's wondering if Boris Johnson is still managing to step in every single pile of shit in Britain, don't worry; he is.

Look, I know I try to make my last story a bit of good news, as a little palate cleanser for y’all, but tonight I'm afraid I must report that Milo Yadon'tgotnoplatformnomo is struggling to make ends meet now that all the major social media platforms have banned his unique brand of performance art hate speech. I apologize if the news produced tears...OF LAUGHTER.

OK, Resisters, I've gotta see what I can do about getting my ass out of this fucking whale, so I'll leave you here. Everybody wish Dan McCready luck in tomorrow's special election!

*Assuming there is a next week, of course.

**No, this didn't happen. But how many of you googled it, just to be sure?

A Portion of the Proceeds From Tonight's Blog Will Go to Victims of Hurricane-Ravaged Alabama

Hey hey, Shower Captives! Wouldja believe this humble Resistance With Poo Jokes blog celebrated its second birthday just yesterday? If you promise to stick around for my terrible twos, I promise to make them filthier than ever, starting with this week's insanity round-up, whaddya say?

(As always, this post can be found, with all those helpful news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/a-portion-of-the-proceeds-from-tonights-blog-will-go-to-victims-of-hurricane-ravaged-alabama/)

Mitch McConnell is surprisingly thin-skinned for a power-crazed monster whose life's work has been devoted to manipulating arcane procedural rules in the name of enshrining political power with an increasingly unpopular minority, and he is still bitching and moaning about his increasingly popular Moscow Mitch nickname. If you wanted people to like you, you shouldn't have stolen a Supreme Court seat and broken the Senate, dude. Anyway, Wrinkly Gamera obviously doesn't hate the name enough to allow election security legislation on the floor, because he is a traitor, which is why we started calling him #MoscowMitch in the first place.

The Pentagon announced the 127 construction projects they're raiding in order to pay for the Manchurian Manchild's wall-shaped monument to his own crippling insecurity. We're talking about rebuilding hurricane-ravaged military bases. Rebuilding schools. Projects designed to protect our European allies from Russia. The funding is coming from a whole lotta places, not one of which is Mexico. Numerous Republican Senators facing reelection in 2020, including Cory Gardner, Thom Tillis, and Martha McSally, proudly showed off their conditioning, standing silently by as their Turd Emperor pulled millions of dollars out of their states. That'll be fun to explain on the campaign trail!

And now some of the scuzzier crotchwarts on Team Treasonweasel are raising millions to target the media, from outlets like CNN and WaPo down to individual journalists and editors, which I guess is the sort of thing you really have to do when the mere act of reporting the objective truth is so devastating to your candidate and your party. Still, it would be nice if these fucks stopped trying to burn the whole country down just so they can rule the ashes.

I don't know what the fuck Boris Johnson is up to over in England, other than trying to cram all of Donald Trump's bungling authoritarianism into what's looking to be a roughly-equivalent-to-Hugh-Grant's-screen-time-in-Love-Actually-length tenure at 10 Downing Street. Near as I can tell, he released such a smelly, autocratic, fart in Parliament that he lost his majority on his very first vote, and now he wants to call a snap election, but the opposition won't let him? What's the pitch, anyway? “Holy fuck I'm historically bad at this job, please reappoint me to it?” The ads will be like, Boris striking himself in the temple and groin with a hammer, and then, after about thirty seconds, he hands Jeremy Corbyn a second hammer and invites him to join in the fun.

Still, this shit where 21 Tory MPs stood up to Johnson's dictatorial power grab, at the expense of their own political careers, gives me serious conservative envy. A right wing party that actually sticks to their principles, and fights to preserve democracy? Wonder what that's like. The Brits get Winston Churchill's grandson, we're stuck with Marco Rubio, fecklessly tweeting out Bible verses like a shitty page-a-day calendar while his boss fantasizes about proclaiming himself President for Life.

One of Mike Pompeo's underlings tried to bribe a tanker captain into diverting his Iranian-owned ship to a Murica-friendly port, and because he is the stablest imaginable genius, he did it in an e-mail so the whole fucking world could learn about it after the fact. Yeah, if there's a Trump Doctrine, it could be summarized as “Diplomacy by Mouth-Breathing Idiot.”

In that spirit, the Dotard has turned the Middle East peace process over to one of Jar-Jar's dead-eyed dipshit sidekicks, a 29-year old who graduated from law school in 2016. At the rate we're going, Diamond and Silk will be named joint ambassadors to Israel and Palestine by Xmas.

A government watchdog found that migrant children separated from their families under the Trump/Miller/Nielsen reign of terror are suffering from PTSD and other mental disorders, which of course was the entire point. You have to wonder, at what point in 2020 will Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot grow tired of spouting fake economic stats at his rube army, drop the flimsy veneer of basic human decency, and start bragging about his administration’s REAL accomplishments: children hurt, trauma inflicted, lives ruined? The cheers would be same, you know.

The gun lobby, so confident in their dominance they've apparently just been spending their money turning Wayne LaPierre's every wish into reality, doesn't seem to know how to cope with all the losing they're experiencing now that Americans are finally fed the fuck up with their “look, it's important to make things as easy as possible for murderers” agenda. Walmart, CVS, Walgreens, Kroger and other chains finally banned open carry in their stores, in a devastating to blow to Men Who Want Everyone Nearby to Know Exactly How Small Their Wangs Are, but an overdue victory for People Who Do Not Want to Get Shot to Death by the Above-Mentioned Men.

And with Beto O’Rourke making the rounds talking about assault weapon buybacks, the gun nut crowd is screechier than ever, arguing that such steps would lead to violence. Somebody should tell Meghan McCain and co. that “we have to let slobbering psychopaths keep their weapons of war or they'll slaughter a bunch of strangers” isn't making the argument you think it is.

The San Francisco Board of Supervisors went so far as to designate the NRA a domestic terrorist organization, and since those death merchants have racked up a body count that's the envy of every murdering shitsack in ISIS, that seems reasonable to me.

So, I guess we have to talk about the Alabama thing.

I write this blog with one eye on the future alien archaeologists/anthropologists, unearthing the remnants of our bass-ackwards civilization, trying to make sense of just what the living fuck was going on in these Days of Bath Salts and Bat Guano. So, Future Alien Friends, no need to go back to your Future Alien Rosetta Stone to double-check the translation, I assure you all this really did happen. Yes, it defies all reason. We're getting a lot of that kind of thing these days.

The long and short of it is, the President of the United States, possessed of the single most fragile ego in all human (and likely inhuman) history in spite of his not insubstantial powers, erroneously told the American people that parts of the state of Alabama were threatened by an incoming hurricane, Dorian. This was not true at the time he said it, and rather than simply admitting he was wrong, and this is probably the part you're having trouble wrapping your multi-lobed alien brains around, he devoted every waking moment of the next several days of his life, at the expense of all his other duties, trying to “prove” he was right all along, and that Alabama, in all its child-molester-nominating glory, only dodged Dorian's wrath at the last possible second.

The doddering old twit actually took a fucking marker (presumably because Mulvaney took away his crayons for crapping in Oval again) to a Dorian forecast map, doctoring it with his very own tiny, inadequate, fingers. Called up his dutiful propagandists at Fux Nooz to whinge that he'd been right all along. Raged on Twitter literally for days. Finally forced some poor Homeland Security advisor to fall on his sword and issue a statement saying “Mister Trump was right all along and frankly he should be crowned King of Alabama now.”

Anyway, if you're hoping he'll back down on his dumbfuck, self-destructive, trade war before the entire American economy looks like a Nick Nolte mugshot, I hope this episode is instructive for you. And know that he'll be babbling about the damage Dorian did to Alabama, spittle dribbling down his chin, when they finally drag him away in chains.

If you're like me, you probably liked, and continue to like, President Barack Obama. One of the underrated things about Obama was the way that nobody ever had any cause to write an entire motherfucking article about how, at a certain point in his presidency, he just flat out stopped doing any fucking work at all, in favor of incessant internet whining broken up by regular (taxpayer-funded) golf vacations. And no, I am certainly not advocating for a certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor to spend his days actually exercising the powers of his office, but maybe at some point we should hire somebody to at least periodically check the inbox before Justin Trudeau annexes New England.

Steve King sure has gone stir-crazy since he lost his committee assignments over his “wait I thought this was okay now that we elected Trump” open white supremacy. Now he's drinking out of the toilet and telling everybody how much he loves it. Shitbag's losing his mind, live, in front of the national media, and I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda here for it. (For extra King fun, check out the Atlantic's piece on Steve's loyal voters! Spoilers: they're super racist!)

Actually the schadenfreude basket is overflowing with riches this week, since one of If the Dunning-Kruger Effect Was a Dude Jacob Wohl's many scams finally caught up with him, and he's now facing a felony charge, surely the first of many, in California. Young Jacob is like the stunted, subpar, version of the Wolf of Wall Street, and I think he's gonna wind up with double the jail time and one less movie.

Look, you might want to take a break before reading further, I don't want to be responsible for any ruptured diaphragms. If you have any laughter left to spare, however, you'll be pleased to learn that Squeezably Soft Telefascist Sebastian Gorka has fallen so far from his heady days as a Shart House adviser that he's now shilling literal fish oil, which is something I had no idea people actually did in real life. Anyway, if the endorsement of that soft Nazi somehow makes you more likely to buy anything, you don't deserve money.

Is Mike Pants out? Seems President Gas Station Urinal Cake has latched onto the desperate, misguided hope that the women of America will forgive every sin, insult, and fuck-up, from Kavanaughty to the concentration camps, if it's just Nikki Haley instead of Hairshirt Mike who pinch hits on overseas diplomatic trips whenever he feels like getting a little more golf in. I'm not a religious guy, but I am enjoying a fantasy of Pencey-Poo, standing before his maker, who angrily demands just why the fuck he pissed on every single sermon and commandment, only to walk away with nothing but a souvenir snow globe from Shart Garfunkel’s tacky-ass Irish golf resort.

Arizona Republithug Kelli Ward is as classy as ever, sending out a fundraising e-mail promising to stop Dem Senate candidate Mark Kelly “dead in his tracks.” Yes, that's the same Mark Kelly who is married to Gabby Giffords. Yes, that's the same Gabby Giffords who was shot in the head by a would-be assassin. As if I wasn't already looking forward to defeating Martha McSally again next year.

And I see Howard Schultz finally caught up to the rather obvious fact that nobody wants Howard Schultz to be president, so he’s dropping his candidacy to spend more time with his pencil-drawing-of-Ben-Stein-on-a-piece-of-plain-cardboard charisma. We miss you already, Howard*.

Disappointing August jobs numbers show the poor, abused, Obama economy may finally be ready for the glue factory, especially after all that rock-headed trade war whipping. Fat Q*Bert headed into re-election with a self-inflicted recession on his resume will be like Ryan Reynolds trying to secure financing for a Green Lantern sequel, only with more senseless human suffering.

As if on cue, various state-level Republican parties are trying to call off their 2020 primaries and caucuses, because canceling elections is just the sort of thing you do when you're a popular incumbent in a healthy democracy.

WaPo reports Hairplug Himmler is withholding $250 million in military aid from Ukraine unless they launch a bullshit investigation into a phony Joe Biden conspiracy theory, and this one hits every square on Dotard Bingo in one fell swoop: corruption, crime, fake news, destroying America's most important alliances, and even a little groveling before Vlad Putin.

The latest from North Carolina slides rather nicely into my traditional good-news-at-the-end-to-wash-the-taste-of-hippo-shit-out-of-your-mouth slot, as a three-judge panel overturned the state's Seriously Bro Who Do You Think You're Fooling Republican gerrymander, ordering new maps right this goddamn minute, and no dessert for six months. Nice to win one every now and then, ain't it?

Things are moving fast these days. By the time you read this, even more Republican Congressturds may have retired. Sharty McFly may have defended his Alabama mistake (not campaigning for Roy Moore, the hurricane one) as many as six thousand more times. And I know I missed some stuff, but I'm going to a ballgame tonight, cuz I need a fuckin’ BREAK, y’all. See you next week!

*Lie.

Neither Hurricane Nor Mass Murder Nor Dumbass Trade War Will Pry This President From His Golf Course

Well, it's a three day weekend, so there's only as much scandal as 7 years worth of the Obama presidency this time ‘round. It was actually the Tan Suitiversary a few days back, and by God, if we could survive that, we'll get through this whole “fascist criminal assaulting the very pillars of democracy” thing.

(As always, this post is available, with all those nifty news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/neither-hurricane-nor-mass-murder-nor-dumbass-trade-war-shall-pry-this-president-from-his-golf-course/)

The Marmalade Shartcannon celebrated Labor Day by sending Mike Pants to Poland to do his job for him. He claimed he needed to stay home and monitor Hurricane Dorian, but because he is the Sociopath Who Cried Empathy, not one living soul believed that shit. And indeed, the lazy old fuck just went golfing (on our dime) again. It's like when you call in sick to work and run into your boss at the mall, only your boss is the entire American public. Anyway, the next president should be capable of working two consecutive weekends, says I.

This is, of course, the second trip abroad he's cancelled in recent weeks on account of his Garfield-esque sloth. I'm sure the Poles, old, vital, allies, will understand that while the relationship between our two nations is certainly important, sometimes it must take a back seat to the truly crucial things, like wallowing in a pile of your own filth while rage-tweeting at a sitcom actor.

Getting back to Mikey Hairshirt's European Vacation real quick, the Vice President is in Ireland today, and even though his business is, of course, in Dublin, he's staying at Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot's tacky-ass golf resort on the other side of the island, because we can't pass up any opportunity to line the boss’ pockets with taxpayer money, can we?

Lots of folks enjoyed a laugh at Shart Garfunkel's expense, when he said he'd never even heard of a category 5 storm before, even though Dorian is the fourth to threaten the U.S. during his term. And yeah, it is kind of funny until you remember this KFC Famous Bowl mash-up of apathy, idiocy, and rapid mental deterioration gets to make dozens of decisions with the potential to reshape human history every single day.

Another way the Die Plebs Die Administration celebrated the holiday was by watching the latest bonehead round of tariffs kick in! It makes perfect sense; see, now you'll have to put in much more LABOR just to make ends meet, because Donnie Dotard's Idiot Trade War looks to cost the American consumer an extra $1,000 this year! Maybe he's hoping that we'll all be too broke to donate to his 2020 opponent? Fuck that, I'm willing to forgo an avocado toast here and there.

Now, as hard as the trade war is on most of us, it's much worse for American farmers, who are watching their markets vanish like a promised charitable donation from Donald Trump. But I guess the heartland isn't choking to death quickly enough for Tangerine Idi Amin, so he's granted waivers from ethanol requirements to the fossil oil industry that will put an extra boot on corn farmers’ necks. Welcome to the list of shit we need to put back together, folks, and welcome to the Resistance.

For a guy who's so fond of creepy cartoon images that make him look like a pro wrestler rather the engorged tick he is, Weehands McNodick sure is a coward. How big a coward? Well, he's apparently afraid of the contents of a fucking museum. Yes, back when he decided to contaminate the National Museum of African American History and Culture with his presence, he asked to be kept away from any exhibits he might have found “difficult,” and since we're talking about a guy who finds closing an umbrella “difficult,” that rules out everything but the hand dryers in the restrooms. And, because his “brand” is equal parts hate and tackiness*, he responded to an exhibit about the Dutch role in the global slave trade by boasting about his popularity in the Netherlands. (And not that it's really the point here, but of course he's despised in the Netherlands.)

Overcompensated Windbag Bret Stephens devoted his career to decrying the general snowflakiness of safe-space-seeking liberals, until a private citizen with zero clout and a functionally nonexistent platform called him a “bedbug” on Twitter, and then Bret Stephens realized that he was the victim of a second Holocaust, and frankly, since none of the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis had a column in the New York Times, this one was probably a bigger deal. Stephens, who tried to get a stranger fired over a small joke on internet, is many things; a ridiculous hypocrite, a pompous ass, and yes, above all things else, an absolute fuckin’ BEDBUG.

Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is pissed at Emmanuel Macron for offering to help put out fires in the Amazon, so he's shouting from atop the highest pile of resentment in all the land that he will no longer use Bic pens, because they are French, and holy shit, this brat runs a whole country. Were authoritarians always so childishly petty? Don't answer that, I just remembered freedom fries.

Head of the Let's Keep Fucking Everything Up Initiative, or, as it is colloquially known, the Trump 2020 campaign, Brad Parscale seems to be stuffing himself at the dark money super PAC trough, surprise surprise. Folks, everyone around Donald Trump, every single crooked one of them, is a thirsty parasite looking to suck up whatever they possibly can before the inevitable catastrophic conclusion of this political Frankenjackass experiment. For the overwhelming majority of them, it's mostly just money; for Stephen Miller, well, he's gonna get as close to genocide as he possibly can.

There was a Dickless Loser Parade in Boston, which naturally descended into violence. Wait, excuse me, I'm being told this was actually self-labeled, by its own organizers, a “Straight Pride” parade. Personally, I can barely live with myself when I do shit that embarrassing in public, like, I pissed my pants once at a day care center, and I haven't been back there since. It's been like, 35 years. I think I left a stuffed brontosaurus in my crate.

And yes, yet another enraged white male armed with yet another assault rifle inflicted yet another tragic mass shooting on our poor, bleeding, country. I guess the guy just got fired from his job, and because he was able to get his hands on a weapon of war, instead of just having a shitty day and moving on with his life, he drove around a couple of Texas towns, randomly murdering strangers until law enforcement shot him dead.

This will happen again, of course. It doesn't have to, but it will. Overwhelming majorities of Americans want to take the obvious, COMMON FUCKING SENSE steps necessary to stop this senseless epidemic, but one of our nation's political parties remains fanatically devoted to watering Wayne LaPierre's lawn with the blood of children, so apologies in advance to the victims of the next shooting, and the next, and the next, that lawn requires a whole lotta innocent blood, and it ain't gonna water itself.

Texas Congressjag Matt Schaefer got righteously indignant at the thought that anyone would dare interfere in God's plan and actually try to PREVENT mass shootings rather than pray for the victims after the slaughter. Matty my lad, I am not a religious man, but I can say with certainty that if there is a heaven, there will not be one single NRA stooge politician there.

And because Republicans are insane, mere hours after Texas’ second mass-shooting in a month, a fresh new fleet of dumbfuck statewide gun laws, not restricting but loosening access, went into effect. Now it's easier to be armed in schools and houses of worship, that'll fuckin’ fix it, boys! Why don't y’all just cut to the chase and replace every sidewalk in the state with trenches and barbed wire?

The Failing New York Times published a nice little deep dive into how Kim Jong-un keeps on exploiting his natural talent for playing Strawberry Shartcake’s frail ego like a grade-school kid's recorder, expanding North Korea's missile arsenal to threaten more and more American bases, and getting handjobs and challenge coins from the American President in return. It's like playing Risk with a Hot Pocket.

And in the best news in quite some time, public pressure forced the Let's See How Much Evil Shit We Can Get Away With Administration to back down from their plan to deport immigrants undergoing life-saving medical treatment, at least for now. But never forget you're dealing with rat bastards who have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into letting sick children stay alive, and never, EVER, take your eyes off them, for even a minute.

Alright, yeah, it's a bit light tonight, but it's a holiday. Go get yourself a beer and a brat. Or better yet, get ME a beer and a brat. Wait a second, I already have a beer and a brat. But I'll need more soon.

*And that's a lotta tackiness, folks.
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