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TheFerret

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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 06:48 PM
Number of posts: 468

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At the Dawning of the Age of Impeachment, a Murderstache Shall Guide Them! (Ferret/Shower Cap)

I tell you what, friends, a trial in a culture where the people inhabit two separate realities is the best idea Lewis Carroll never had. It would be fascinating if it weren’t for the whole Hey Maybe We Don’t Have a Functioning Constitution Anymore aspect of it, which really shits in my beer, y’know? Well, Happy Monday anyway, let’s chronicle this garbage.

(And yes, as always, you can get this post WITH news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/at-the-dawning-of-the-age-of-impeachment-a-murderstache-shall-guide-them/)

In a bit of laughably disingenuous pre-coordinated bullshit the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Brooks Brothers Riot or the Bowling Green Massacre, Senate Republicans engaged in a little theatrical whinging, sort of the political equivalent of every over-serious audition-room rendering of On My Own. The idea seems to be that Adam Schiff, in referencing last week’s widely-reported “head on a pike” story during his closing statement, hurt their senatorial fee-fees so much that they’re now basically allowed to ignore the House’s entire flawlessly-constructed case, and also have their moms take them out for ice cream.

Oklahoma’s Jaggy Jim Lankford practically tripped over his own feet in search of the first available television personality to somberly inform that he was indeed “visibly upset,” by Schiff's line, a totally normal bit of human speech to describe a totally normal bit of human behavior. I myself was audibly repulsed by Lankford’s phony posturing, by which I mean it led me to release an unusually exuberant fart. My cat, it must be stated, was forced to briefly leave the room.

Did any of these mortally offended Senators express the slightest bit of outrage and indignation when news of Pikegate initially broke? Oddly, not one of them uttered a peep. Weird that the story only became offensive once they found a context to weaponize it against Dems and impeachment, isn’t it?

Almost as weird as the sudden swell of senatorial silence when Hairplug Himmler used his Twitter platform to insult, and indeed, threaten America’s Handsomest Patriot Man, Mr. Adam Schiff. Decorum, it seems, is for play-acting in front of the teevee cameras, not for the real world, with all its messy stochastic terrorism and whatnot.

You could be forgiven for missing Team Treasonweasel’s opening arguments in the impeachment trial. Basically the lawyers belched up a few tired, half-hearted, lies, and then Jay Sekulow took a dump on the floor and Pat Cipollone sculpted the turd into a little poo snowman, stuck some googly eyes on it and proclaimed it the God of Exoneration, and bellowed that it told them Littlefinger was innocent, and then Sekulow and Cipollone sacrificed their dignity and their reputations to the Turd God in thanks.

Truly there is no better messenger for Trumpism than Paula “Give me your January salary, no really, just give it to me, no, you won’t get anything back, I would just like a pile of free money please” White, Tangerine Idi Amin’s “spiritual advisor.” (By the way, you are super-shitty at that job, Paula. The old bastard’s spirit is a cancer-ridden cockroach marinating in hooker piss) White made the extremely Christian prayer for God to terminate any and all “satanic pregnancies” whatever those are. Now, I’m sure Paula spends no small amount of her time fantasizing about wielding the power to choose precisely which pregnancies are sufficiently godly as to be allowed to come to term, but yeah, we’re at the “evangelicals praying for mass abortion” stage of the ride, and I would very much like to be let off now, thank you.

While we’re on the subject of religious loons, Demented Faux Christian Hate-Monger Rick Wiles’ “TruNews,” a nutjob site famous for its anti-Semitism and also its further anti-Semitism, got press credentials from the Shart House itself to “cover” President Crotchrot’s annual Embarrass the Fuck Out of America trip to Davos. Y’see, the Grand Wizard Grifter wasn’t making an offhand remark when he referred to the white nationalist Charlottesville marchers as “very fine people;” it is in fact one of his few deeply-held core beliefs.

Malicious, Manic, Moody, Mobster Mike Pompeo apparently felt America had paid insufficient attention to the juvenile tirade he unleashed on NPR’s Mary Louise Kelly, and so he doubled down (presumably Pompeo’s duties as Secretary of State are being handled by a ficus while he focuses on this tantrum), releasing a childish little follow-up statement, accusing Kelly of lying (she had receipts, of course) and even going so far as to suggest she had failed his famous Point At This Unlabeled Map I Keep Around at All Times to Pick Fights With Because I’m Emotionally Stunted test, and confused Ukraine with Bangladesh. Yes, this is same Mary Louise Kelly with a degree in European Studies. From Cambridge. And the same Mike Pompeo who believes in the rapture. If we’re having an intellectual pissing contest, that is.

Lordy, Pompeo has now gone so far as to kick a different NPR reporter off the flight for his upcoming Europe trip, as well as rescinding all NPR staff’s invitations to his birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese’s, where there’s gonna be Skee-ball and three different kinds of cake. Gettin’ sick of loser fascism, here. Anyway, what does the Bible say about being a petty, vindictive, lying, brat, Mikey?

The Bowing and Scraping event at the 2020 Olympics is certainly going to be competitive, with all 53 GOP Senators looking like strong contenders, and that’s before factoring in dark horses like Jefferson Beauregard Sessions th’Third, desperately seeking his old job on a “Donald Trump fed me shit for two years before finally firing me, and I’m begging you for the opportunity to gorge myself on turds again, vote Sessions, spines are liberals!” platform.

But don’t sleep on Arkansas Senator Tom Cotton, though, defenestrating his fellow veterans with nary a nanosecond’s hesitation, all to back up Strawberry Shartcake’s vile dismissal of service members’ traumatic brain injuries as Wuss Wounds. When Tom runs for president someday, and he will, make sure voters remember his cowardice and stoogery during this time when America desperately needed leaders.

And then there’s the Tale of John Bolton and the Smoking Stache. Yes, Bolton’s forthcoming book, which he desperately wants folks to buy but which we will not buy, because fuck you you genocidal maniac is why, reportedly contains a passage saying hell yeah, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot told Bolton directly that he was withholding military aid from Ukraine until Zelensky and co. agreed to personally check both under the bed and inside the closet for the Big Bad Biden that frightens him so. And Republicans are frankly exhausted, because goalposts are big and heavy, and they really thought they’d get to leave them at “well, we haven’t heard from anyone who heard quid pro quo directly from Trump, so NOTHING MATTERS HAW HAW HAW,” at least for a while, and now they have to start spinning new bullshit excuses for betraying their oaths and their country.

...and suddenly the field for those Bowing and Scraping medals got even more crowded. Missouri’s Roy Blunt isn’t going to let a silly ol’ thing like Still More Damning Evidence Confirming All of the Previous Damning Evidence get in the way of his life’s work, which is now nothing more than Helping Donald Trump Get Away With Crimes, Mamma Blunt must be so proud of her boy. Even shiny new Senator-by-appointment Kelly Loeffler got into the obsequious disinformation game, popping her gaslighting cherry faster than any GOP official to date. And Joni Ernst couldn’t stop herself from giddily snickering that the impeachment trial gave Government Cheese Goebbels just what he wanted; a platform to spread malicious, debunked, propaganda about Smilin’ Joe.   

But the Bolton evidence remains, and the American public knows about it, so I’m not sure what the Senate GOP imagines it’s getting away with by blocking his testimony. Just another smoking gun to throw on the pile with all the other smoking guns, I suppose. Seems like I have to shovel smoking guns off of the driveway every six hours or so, just to get the car out.

Ken Starr stood on the floor of the Senate to rail against impeachment, and I’m starting to understand that while modern conservatism offers little in the way of policy solutions for any of America’s urgent problems, it does seem to promise freedom from shame, and I kinda get that; I probably would’ve signed right up if they’d recruited me with that pitch that one time in high school when I absentmindedly starting singing along, out loud, to “Sweet Transvestite” on the bus on the way to the bowling alley for gym class. Trumpian shamelessness sure would’ve come in handy that week.

Starr insists there’s just too dang much impeachment these days. It’s like Starbucks, you drive by a dozen different impeachments on the way to work. He’s right, too. I recently impeached an oatmeal raisin cookie I accidentally purchased, believing it to be a chocolate chip cookie, but I couldn’t get the votes for removal because Roger Wicker is a fucking puppet for Big Raisin.

And Pam Bondi, who is literally famous for taking a bribe from Donald Trump, used her time to push out-of-date conspiracy theories that even Pizzagaters would admit were beyond stale. I didn’t pay much attention, honestly, but I think the gist was that Hunter Biden killed Christ, or maybe JFK, whatever. Also, nepotism is apparently bad, except, as article 6.2 of section Q of the Constitution clearly states, when the president’s son-in-law sells state secrets to the Saudi government in order to pay off family debts.

Anyway, today, the legal team representing the President of the United States unashamedly parroted Russian propaganda, to Putin’s delight, in defense of that very President, in case you’re wondering why the Lincoln Memorial is weeping tears of blood.

What happens next? Trapped as we are in this Turd Circus, who the fuck knows? It’s looking more and more like there could actually be enough GOP votes to call Bolton as a witness, but the Cowed Accomplice Caucus keeps making noises about calling retaliatory witnesses of their own, a list which may or may not include Joe Biden, Hunter Biden, Huey, Dewey, & Louie Biden, Adam Schiff, Barack Obama, Joe Biden But With a Goatee (from the Mirror Universe), A Honey-Baked Ham, Whoever It Was Who Told Ted Cruz He Looks Good With That Beard, Banana Fana Fo Fiden, Aquaman, and Oh Let’s Say Moe Biden.

And look, we even got an additional treacherous teaser for Bolton’s book, just as tonight’s draft was nearing completion.

But don’t buy Bolton’s book, BUY MINE. Yes, the Kickstarter for Cap’s very first comic is still live, (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) and we’ve attracted quite a little audience of Resisters! Get in on it, friends, your support thus far has already been amazing, and I can’t wait to share the finished product with you! 

If Paul Simon Wrote a Song About GOP Senators, It Would Be "53 Ways to Fail Your Country" (Ferret)


Hey everybody, I almost hate to interrupt whatever filthy, steamy, sex fantasies y’all are no doubt having about Adam Schiff right this very minute, but I figured we should round up the news real quick before disappearing back into his righteous embrace...ohhhhhh Adam, you’re so...thorough, oh...Um. Excuse me. Anyway, the blog:

(You want the blog with the links? Click here: http://showercapblog.com/if-paul-simon-wrote-a-song-about-gop-senators-it-would-be-53-ways-to-fail-your-country/)

The thirty-four American service members diagnosed with traumatic brain injuries in the aftermath of Iran’s recent missile strikes will no doubt be pleased to learn from their draft-dodging Commander-in-Chief that their injuries are sissy, girly, injuries that do not count, so please keep it down about the whole “lifetime of pain and other challenges” thing you’re facing. For a dude who lacks the courage to so much as sit for an interview with a real journalist outside the right wing dumbassosphere, the Bonespur Buttplug demonstrates unseemly confidence in judging the Americans who risk their lives defending his right to golf every weekend at taxpayer expense.

At Davos, during a break from being ignored by people who don’t have to lie about their wealth, the Candycorn Skidmark confessed to, and even bragged about, obstructing Congress, which is of course one of the very articles of impeachment against his treasonous ass. This shit must drive legitimate criminal masterminds nuts, y’know? Imagine you spent months pulling off the perfect, brilliant, heist, some real Steven Soderbergh shit, but you can’t ever tell anybody how you did it, while this mushbrained dolt gets to strut around, squawking, “We have all the material cuz I didn’t turn it over ME AM SO SMRT” just because he has 53 pet Senators.

Perhaps worried that the three-day-long, televised, deep dive into his many crimes would render him TOO popular, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot decided, unprompted, to remind America that, like a children’s cereal mascot who can’t wait for the poors to just die off already, he’s just Cuckoo for Entitlement Cuts. In the end, for all his flaws, I have to concede that Donald Trump is perhaps the most effective anti-Trump messenger available to the Resistance.

Tulsi Gabbard continued her pursuit of her bizarre What if You’re Kind of a Democrat But You Hate Democrats and Also Luv Dictators brand (it’s kinda like Goop, but angry), announcing a big ol’ frivolous lawsuit targeting Hillary Clinton. Really looking forward to regular updates on this case on the Tucker Carlson White Power Hour.

And then there was the whole “impeachment trial” thing, I suppose I should mention that. Democratic impeachment managers made you proud to be an American, and prouder still to be part of the sole major American political party that still believes in honesty, decency, the rule of law, constitutional separation of powers, and I’m pretty sure I heard Mike Pence say “Apple pie sucks” the other day. Shit, next to the shrieking mendacity of the likes of Pat Cipollone and Gym Jordan, just the competence is fucking inspirational, and you can’t help but appreciate the work our team has put into laying out their case, clearly and concisely.

Of course, Senate Republicans are awfully pissy that they have to sit through all this meddlesome “evidence” and “proof of their shameful complicity,” because it’ll undermine their ability to go on pretending they’ve been too busy to keep up with the biggest political scandal of their lifetimes. Of course, “I was asleep when that particular damning bit of evidence was mentioned,” remains a viable copout, along with “I was in the cloakroom,” and “I was flat out reading a fuckin’ book instead.” Ah, if only there had been fidget spinners in the days of Ancient Rome, Nero wouldn’t have needed to learn to fiddle.

Historians will mark this as the week when the Most Susan Collins Thing Ever occurred. In the middle of the the impeachment trial, Susan heard something from Democratic impeachment manager Jerry Nadler that shook her to her useless, pearl-clutching, core; no, it wasn’t any of the evidence of Hairplug Himmler’s crimes or betrayals, it was that Nadler was a big ol’ meaniepants in pointing out the Senate GOP is assisting the Trump Administration’s coverup JUST BECAUSE the Senate GOP is assisting the Trump Administration’s coverup. And so she tattled to Chief Justice John Roberts. Leave it to Susan Fucking Collins to haughtily whinge about decorum while her party conspires to end democracy in America. Sara Gideon’s first term can’t start soon enough.

One excuse, pardon me, one “argument” Republicans are taking out for a test spin is that the Shart House will simply invoke executive privilege if witnesses are called, potentially drawing out the trial for months, when they’d really much rather get back to the important work of ignoring the hundreds of bills Nancy Pelosi and the House have sent them. It’s a bullshit argument, of course, but I suppose they can’t quite bring themselves to utter the real truth out loud, but wouldn’t it be something to watch, say, Josh Hawley sneeringly proclaim, “Yeah, we’re letting it all ride on our brainwashed rube base! We’re hopin’ to squeeze at least one more term out of the dying gasps of white supremacy! Shit, Fux Nooz isn’t even broadcasting the trial, we can say whatever the fuck we want and they’ll still love us and hate you! Nothing matters! BYE!”

Lindsey Graham doesn’t want any additional witnesses at the impeachment trial, instead preferring a quick acquittal, even* in the face of overwhelming evidence of Dorito Mussolini’s guilt. What he DOES want is an official government investigation into the President’s political rivals, based on widely-debunked conspiracy theories. This is because Lindsey Graham is a fascist, working to destroy our Constitutional democracy in order to ensure his party stays permanently in power, whatever the will of the people. Jokes will return in the following paragraph, this one is just for ugly, horrifying, truths.

Marsha Blackburn, who has become a United States Senator despite a career more or less indistinguishable from That One Guy Who Sets Up a Microphone on Campus to Scream at Everyone Who Walks By That They’re Going to Hell, embraced some casually fascist tactics of her own, impugning the patriotism of Purple Heart recipient and impeachment witness Alexander Vindman. I suppose there are two ways of looking at this; either you believe America is America, or you believe America is a dirtbag game show host who stole money from charity to buy an ugly-ass painting of himself. There. Both sides. Chuck Todd would be proud.

Word is, the Treasonweasel Administration has threatened the already thoroughly-cowed Senate GOP Caucus to continue enabling the Emperor of Hemorrhoids’ every criminal whim, or “your head will be on a pike.” Whatever. Not like there’s anything worth preserving in those 53 empty craniums.

Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag became the latest prominent conservative goon to slip a quarter in the self-owning machine we call Picking a Fight with Greta Thunberg, demanding the teenager procure an economics degree before bothering bought-and-paid-for climate deniers like himself with her pesky facts. Yes, this is the same Steve Mnuchin who thinks the Trump tax cuts paid for themselves, and that his horrible wife didn’t marry him for his money.

Huge embarrassment in Shartopia today, as a heretofore unknown recording of Donnie Two-Scoops’ failed Sopranos audition surfaced, and boy, is it ev-excuse me, what? The tape is actually real, and it captures the President telling Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman, “Take her out,” apparently referencing Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch? ZOUNDS.

The more charitable voices in the news interpret this as a command to fire Yovanovitch, which might make sense if he gave it to whichever sycophantic peon happened to be acting chief of staff at the moment, rather than a room full of cheap thugs, many of whom are currently facing some rather significant criminal charges. Shit, even Mulvaney would need further clarification. “Get rid of her? Like, GET RID OF HER get rid of her?”

Upon hearing of this new bit of documented thuggery, John “Yes, Wyoming gets two Senators even though we have fewer voters than Coachella has hipsters” Barrasso, shrugged, “There will be new evidence every day. There will something new that comes out every day,” as though this was a reason to dismiss the charges against the Offal in the Oval, rather than investigate further. There’s SO much evidence of criminal wrongdoing we should let the man get on with his crimes, is the idea. It seems. This is real life, folks. I know it feels sometimes like we’re trapped in a nightmare George Orwell is having after losing a spicy-hot-wings-eating contest, but it’s real fuckin’ life.

Seems Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo does not enjoy the press, with all their uppity demands for “answers to questions” and “accountability,” as demonstrated by the petulant tantrum he threw at an NPR reporter. To me, Mike is the scariest member of the entire Turd Reich; no, he’s not as wily or effective as Bill Barr, but he possesses the zealot’s conviction that God will stay on his side through whatever atrocities he may perpetrate, and is, if anything, a little irritated with him for holding back up to this point. Look in his eyes when he’s facing the press; this is a man fantasizing about camps and gallows.

And now I see the Velveeta Vulgarian literally stole the fucking Starfleet insignia from Star Trek as the logo for his idiotic “Space Force,” and we really need to get rid of this clown before he starts appointing Ninja Turtles to the cabinet.

Alright, everybody, that’s what I got. Steer clear of exotic new viruses this weekend! Oh, and please donate to the Kickstarter (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost )for my very first comic book! All the cool Resisters are doing it, y’know!

*especially 

Warning: Literally Every Conceivable Impeachment Trial Drinking Game Will Quickly Prove Fatal (F/SC)

Well, my shit-kickin’ Resistance chums, the impeachment trial is finally here! Never has the stark divide between our bleeding nation’s rival realities been clearer. We have the truth, honor, decency, and justice on our side, but sometimes I confess I’m a little jealous of the drugs they’ve got over there in Shitty Wonderland; it looks like a really intense, if angry, high. Okay, let’s round this shit up, shall we?

(As usual, you can find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/warning-literally-every-conceivable-impeachment-trial-drinking-game-will-quickly-prove-fatal/)

Missed this one last time out, but didja see where the National Archives blurred images from the 2017 Women’s March that contained criticism of a certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor, in the latest Dirtbag Orwell Theatre attempt to pretend maybe the point of the whole dang gathering was to protest Netflix losing Scrubs or some shit? I mean, if we’re editing out anti-Shart content now, future generations are gonna think the period between 2016 and 2021 produced nothing but beer commercials, K-pop, and movies where white people belligerently insist upon “saving” jazz.

Lots of folks think Hairplug Himmler is a recklessly impulsive toddler, careening from crisis to crisis without reason or rhyme, not only incapable of thinking six moves ahead, but mostly just interested in seeing how many pieces he can fit up his nose; in fact, he’s already planning for his post-presidency, trying with all his tiny-fisted might to reverse laws banning bribes to foreign governments, on account of how fiercely anti-corruption he is, you see. Hey, when your name is your brand and both are synonymous with incompetence, stupidity, and snarling hatred, bribery is pretty much all that’s left, especially when you’re in the market to pull off a real estate scam or two, preferably in a country without an extradition treaty.

Devin Nunes hasn’t been in shit this deep since his poor mamma first caught him stickin’ his willie in the family hog back on the old farm. With the Pez Dispenser Only With Evidence Instead of Chalky Candy known as Lev Parnas linking Devin and his staff ever more tightly to the Trump/Giuliani Ukrainian extortion ring, America’s most treasonous Congressman didn’t even get invited to join Fat Q*Bert’s impeachment defense team, leaving Gym Jordan and Mark Meadows all the fun that apparently comes with humiliating yourself in front of the entire world on live television. (I think it’s weird, but it’s a different culture, and we shouldn’t judge. Maybe it’s a sex thing.)

You’ll be pleased to learn that the newest branch of the military is ready to defend ‘Murica in the jungles of outer space. Yes, the first Space Force uniforms are an avant-garde rebellion against the traditional notion of “camouflage,” seemingly designed to make our fighting forces stand out as much as fucking possible on the battlefields of the final frontier, perhaps on the theory that any alien invaders would be moved to take pity on our primitive, dumbass, society.

Kid Kompromat’s top Russia advisor, a bad-guy-in-a-movie-set-in-a-prep-school-lookin’ fuck called Andrew Peek, was escorted from the Shart House amidst a security investigation, with plenty of rumors swirling that this grade A dipshit actually fell for the old “honey trap” bit and got his fucking phone stolen by spies. “The best people” was always a sick, sad, joke, but after three years of scandal-driven turnover, we’re well past scraping the bottom of the barrel; we’re harvesting the fungus from under the floorboards in the room where the barrel’s stored, and giving it top secret security clearance.

Ahead of the impeachment trial, Richard Shelby, who I am told is a United States Senator, and not, as it would seem from casual observation, a Marm-a-Lego steward tasked with licking Sultan Spraytan’s golf shoes clean, excused the President’s many, extremely-well-documented, crimes by saying, “things happen.” Well, yes. Things do happen. Like, I keep forgetting to buy shampoo, right, and I was almost out of shampoo, so I went to to Target specifically to get shampoo, and I got dishwasher detergent and paper towels and those strawberry-flavored marshmallows I like so much, but of course I was halfway home before I realized I’d left without the fucking shampoo, but it was late and cold and I didn’t feel like going back and sure enough the next day in the shower, I ran completely out of shampoo and I didn’t know how I was gonna wash my hair so what I wound up doing was illegally using congressionally-appropriated foreign aid to extort a vulnerable allied nation* into picking up the shampoo for me and delivering it to my apartment. Things happen.

Well, I assume everybody loved White Boy GI Joe Cosplay Day in Virginia, as the March of the Subpar Yet Heavily Armed provided its annual glimpse into the lives of those emotionally stunted man-children who, for whatever reason, find it very important to let the world know they’re too insecure to leave the house without their comically-obvious penis substitutes. Of course, Sharty McFly tried his best to stir the pot with some fear-mongering tweets, perhaps hoping to inspire a little bloodshed. Fortunately, in this, as in most of the endeavors of his pathetic, crooked, life, he failed.

I feel like Kellyanne Conway’s entire career is basically one enormous ongoing dare to God to strike her down with a bolt of lightening. Maybe that’s why she was flying a kite with a key on it when she claimed Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would surely be standing alongside her Turd Emperor today, hollering “fake news” and sharing stale McDonalds, were he only alive to do so.

Mitch McConnell is so committed to aiding Baron Golfin von Fatfuk’s coverup, he’s practically one of the Dotard’s ill-fitting suit jackets. I assure you, Mitch McConnell sees all the polls showing the American people want a real, fair trial, that they want to see evidence and hear from witnesses; Mitch McConnell simply does not care, for he holds the power and you, you peons, with your quaint little ideas about “justice” and “the rule of law,” do not.

Yertle heard somebody say “Democracy dies in darkness” and thought “holy shit that is SUCH a good idea!” and so he hatched** a sneaky little plot to condense the trial so much that much of it would take place literally in the middle of the night, because Americans can’t be appalled by what they sleep through, right? However, his cowardly, indecent, scheme went too far for even his cowed caucus of stooges and sycophants, and he backed off a bit. We did that, Resisters, by flooding the Senate with calls; we’ve already beaten him once, and we can, and must, do it again.

Anyway, Adam Schiff dropped a few dozen 20-megaton truth bombs on the Senate GOP while Tangerine Idi Amin’s banned-from-the-children’s-party-clown-circuit-for-being-creepy legal team wheezed and screeched their way through a litany of long-ago debunked lies and horseshit talking points, another painful reminder that President Crotchrot’s lone hope for political survival is the total obliteration of objective truth in this country, and that it’s a price he’s positively giddy to pay, though of course, as is his custom, he’ll be sticking the rest of us with the bill.

Then Chuck Schumer made a modest proposal; no, it wasn’t to ask the Senate caterer to add Irish children to the impeachment lunch buffet, but simply to subpoena the Treasonweasel Administration for documents and witnesses related to, y’know, that whole Ukraine thang. The idea, near as I can figure it, was that Senators, as jurors in the trial, would be best served by seeing all the relevant evidence, but alas, poor Chuck forgot that formerly uncontroversial things like “honesty,” “intellectual rigor,” and “impartial justice” are totally partisan now, and every single Senate Republican voted to keep their heads firmly in the sand, thank you very much, it’s really quite cool and refreshing down here.

And so we finish where we began; with two competing realities. I’m sure on Fux Nooz, the barely-coherent blather of Sekulow and Cipollone is being spun and praised as the greatest thing since Hannity shoved an entire watermelon up his ass. Here in the real world, we’re just amazed that Republican Senators, supposedly among the world’s most powerful people, can behave so cravenly without their spines spontaneously bursting from their bodies in search of worthier hosts. Ah well, such is life. Apparently. Fuck.

And that’s all I got for y’all tonight. The Kickstarter for my lil’ comic book project is still live (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) , and I continue to thank you, from the bottom of my dark little heart, for all your support. Y’all are the best readers a drunken fake superhero could hope for!

*Norway, if you absolutely must know.

**GET IT?!?!? 

Donnie Cracks While Lev Talks Smack and Flynn Backtracks as McSally Cries "Hacks!" (Ferret/ShowerC)

So I took most of the week to focus on launching my little comic book project (more on that later), and I have to say, diving back into the news cycle after a couple days off, GREAT BALLS OF PURE FUCK WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON IN THIS COUNTRY? It’s like suddenly seeing it all through the eyes of a newborn; I suppose it’s nice to know I haven't been making it up when I say, for example, “shit be cray,” but seriously, friends...shit be cray.

(As usual, if you wanna read this post WITH the nifty news links, click here: http://showercapblog.com/donnie-cracks-while-lev-talks-smack-and-flynn-backtracks-as-mcsally-cries-hacks/)

Well, the articles of impeachment have, at long last, been delivered to the Senate, and while there weren’t as many floats or acrobats in the procession as I’d have liked, at least there were plenty of clowns waiting on the receiving end. GOP Senators solemnly swore an oath many have already publicly pledged to violate, though I suppose if their constituents have yet to notice that the likes of Lindsey Graham and Rand Paul are mendacious, power-crazed, crudsponges, one more lie isn’t likely to move the needle.

Susan Collins, proudly showing off her new “Most Loathed Senator in America Yes Even More Than Mitch Wow I Must Really Suck” badge, hemmed and hawed and harrumphed and whined that her position on witnesses at the trial had been “misunderstood,” before offering a “clarification” made up of that familiar blend noncommittal, bet-hedging, argle-bargle that we have all come to associate with her particular brand of so-called moderation. Perhaps in her (imminent) retirement, she can join the board of some dairy company, and push them to develop some new, frustratingly bland and instantly forgettable take on vanilla ice cream.

Usually, when you see an enormous, last-minute, advertising push for a blockbuster, it means the studio knows they’ve got an absolute dud on their hands, and they want to recoup as much of their investment as possible before the word of mouth spreads, but I have to say, the Lev Parnas evidence dump actually lived up to the hype! Honestly, I’m already hoping for a sequel, maybe a trilogy. You could call it The Smoking Gun Saga.

There’s lots of new shit confirming and strengthening the case that’s already been laid out by House Democrats, which pairs like a fine wine* with the total lack of exonerating evidence or testimony from Team Treasonweasel. And there’re plenty of new insinuations, implicating the most powerful figures in Shartopia, up to Bill Barr and Mike Pants himself. See? Plenty of material for Episode II: For a Few Plea Bargains More.

So I guess Rudy Giuliani’s stooge brigade was surveilling Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch? Even by the standards of a news cycle so scandal-ridden you almost have to wring the grease out of your morning paper, that’s some sinister shit, y’all. Anyway, “Is the President and/or his personal attorney involved in a plot to assassinate an American diplomat” is now the sort of thing that we can’t just automatically dismiss as ridiculous, so personally, I think this is a gauntlet thrown down in front of Tom Clancy; step up your game bro, there’s a new competitor in town, and his name Reality.

I confess, I truly didn’t believe there was room for this conspiracy of dolts to get any dumber, but goddamn if this new Robert Hyde character didn’t prove me wrong. That dude makes Carter Page look like James Bond and Sam Nunberg seem like the calm, steady, sort of fellow who could be entrusted to perform brain surgery, or maybe even be the guy who picks which wire to cut when there’s a bomb in a movie. Dear lord, is there even farther to travel down this path of self-sabotaging idiocy? What lies at the end? Eric Trump accidentally forwarding secret family recordings to Washington Post reporters, all the while striking himself in the left temple with a tack hammer?

Anyway, big ol’ congratulations go out to President Crotchvoid, you finally got Ukraine to open an investigation into the American government’s corrupt behavior! Of course it’s YOUR corrupt behavior; It’s like you sat on a monkey’s paw 50-some years ago, and it’s been wedged up your ass ever since.

So, Mike “the Turkish Delight” Flynn wants to rescind his guilty plea, having replaced his previous, semi-normal, legal team with a mason jar full of bathtub gin, pop rocks, and a single gerbil suffering from dementia. To be honest, Mike Flynn getting terrible legal advice that will inevitably lead to a rather large box of shit blowing up right in Mike Flynn’s face is not exactly the sort of news likely to lead to the shedding of tears in the Shower Cap household.

History will assume I was simply drunk out of my mind when I wrote this (and history will be absolutely fucking right about that, but that doesn’t negate the fact of the matter), but the honest-to-goodness truth is, on the eve of impeachment, buried in scandal and crisis, Hairplug Himmler could think of no better use for his time than to stand before a modestly-sized crowd of angry, stupid, white people, warm liquid shit running down his leg like a butter sculpture of Garth Brooks melting in the summer sun, bloviating incoherently about dishwashers for awhile. No, this is not the work of the typographical imp denizens of the early 21st century called “autocorrect,” I really fucking mean “dishwashers,” because the old fop really is that fucking crazy.

Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo’s State Department cancelled a scheduled briefing on embassy security at the last minute, which is probably fine, it’s not like any of our embassies have been stormed lately. On the other hand, maybe the lesson they learned from last week’s Mike Lee explosion** is that it’s better to simply sit on bad news in the hopes that it magically goes away than to tell anyone the truth. I bet that works out well.

No better evidence of the 1984 Coloring Book Somebody Spilled a Wine Cooler On world we’re all trapped in than the news that the non-partisan Government Accountability Office dropped by to tap us on the shoulder to say, “For the record, Donnie Dotard officially broke the law JUST by withholding congressionally-appropriated aid from Ukraine. Never mind the cover-ups or the quid pro quo, this, all by itself, is a crime, and actually a fucking gigantic one, seriously, how is this cheap crook not in jail right now?” and it’s barely even a fucking story because everyone’s all, “WE KNOW HE’S A CRIMINAL WE’RE JUST TRYING TO WORK OUT WHETHER OR NOT THAT MATTERS.”

...and you know that the minute there’s a Democratic President again, Republicans will call for impeachment if the Department of the Interior exceeds its break room instant coffee budget.

After months of senselessly stomping on the American economy’s crotch, the Shart of the Deal signed “phase one” of a new trade agreement with China. He didn’t get anything he wanted, or promised, because, and let’s never lose sight of this, while he’s generally sub-competent at everything from international diplomacy to dressing himself, he is especially, catastrophically, awful at making deals. So after months of mindless economic damage, with billions in tariffs pissed away like so much hooker urine on a Russian hotel bed, with the manufacturing sector in recession, and a horrifying spike in farmer suicides, we’re expected to celebrate the fact that the doddering old twit has at least stopped making shit worse on purpose. Party at your place, I guess.

If you’re feeling down about your own day-to-day struggles, turn ye to the tale of Martha McSally, and understand that one can attain the awesome heights of United States Senatorship, and still remain deeply, hilariously, pathetic. Now, admittedly, McSally has problems; appointed to an open seat before the loser stench of her failed 2018 campaign had even begun to dissipate, she is the least legitimate member of the World’s Ex-Greatest Deliberative Body (We Had to Change the Name Because of McConnell). Unpopular and unaccomplished, she’s staring down the business end of a challenge from Democrat Mark Kelly, who is effortlessly out-raising and outclassing her (ok, so that second part is a low bar to clear). With no actual record to run on, Martha opted, via a sad, staged, little confrontation with a journalist, to aim for MAGA stardom by attacking the free press. Anyway, I just set my DVR to record her concession speech.

With the All-New, All-Blue, state government in Virginia enacting some light, common-sense, gun control laws in order to, y’know, maybe save a few folks from getting shot to death, a mob of angry idiots is massing to threaten to shoot people to death, because gun nuts are so terrible at making their case that they tend to...to...oh fuck, I shouldn’t say it...somebody fucking stop meeeeeee...they tend to, dare I say...shoot themselves in the foot? But seriously, is a crowd of armed maniacs threatening violence supposed to be an argument AGAINST gun control? Really?

Anyway, the NRA-backed rally has attracted exactly who you imagined it would, including a trio of literal Nazis who just got arrested for plotting to use the event to stage a terrorist mass shooting. Holy fuck, I am sick of Nazis. To the organizers of this little shitshow: hey, congratulations on throwing the type of party Nazis want to attend. Personally, I know I’d do a little soul-searching if Nazis showed up to my shindig, even if they weren’t coming to commit mass murder but only wanted to taste my famous fruit salad (the trick is, I use pears, because nobody puts pears in fruit salad, which I think is weird because pears are fucking great).

Bloomberg reports that Strawberry Shartcake’s scam tax bill handed $32 billion of our money to the biggest banks in the country, because POPULISM! Billions and billions to Goldman Sachs, and you’re still trying to make us rube taxpayers pay for your stupid wall? Fuck you sideways with garden weasel, man.

If you’re looking for that one specific daily newspaper to slap your smug, “both parties are the same,” friend across the mouth with, you could do worse than today’s. On the one hand, you have the aforementioned bluer-than-ever Virginia legislature finally passing the Equal Rights Amendment, pretty awesome news, right? But damn near simultaneously, down in Florida, Dead-Eyed Hair Gel Receptacle Ron DeSantis sneeringly spiked the football over the state’s Supreme Court upholding his despicable, disenfranchising, poll tax, proclaiming “voting is a privilege,” and not one he plans on extending to folks who didn’t have the good sense to be born white, if he can help it. Yeah, totally the same. Totally.

Ahead of the impeachment trial, the Adderall-Addled Assclown proudly announced his legal team, and while it’s interesting he decided to select for creepiness rather than competence, I certainly won’t stand in his way as he self-immolates. Alan “I didn’t inhale...on my buddy/client Jeffrey Epstein’s private sex trafficking island” Dershowitz? Pam “I literally took a bribe from Donald Trump” Bondi? Ken “What I’d really like is to be remembered forever as a comically hypocritical partisan hack” Starr? Seriously, why NOT let Rudy-Roo join this rancid scumbag clown car?

I guess there’s yet another new book coming out documenting some fresh new ways Weehands McNodick is a dangerous idiot, recklessly captaining the ship of state as it spirals down the toilet bowl, while Putin, laughing, plays a little game where he tries to pee on it. I read this shit, and I’m like, “God, grant me the confidence of this mushbrained rich boy, who doesn’t know what Pearl Harbor was, who possesses a sub-grade-school understanding of geography, but still feels comfortable calling the nation’s highest-ranking military leaders ‘dopes and babies.’” Imagine failing at the casino business and calling anybody else a “dope.” I can make my cat bite her own tail, and even she couldn’t bankrupt a fucking casino.

Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, Prince of Pettiness, marked Michelle Obama’s birthday by proposing rollbacks to the school lunch/breakfast nutritional standards she championed, because feeding his obsessive hatred of his more-accomplished, more-loved, predecessor, while simultaneously undermining the health of an entire generation of American kids is the sort of two-for-one deal that Putin’s Personal Pet President just can’t pass up.

And disgraced former Republican Congresscrook Chris Collins got sentenced to a cool 26 months in prison for the BULLSHIT reason that he committed crimes and got caught, just the latest battle in the War on Not Letting Conservatives Get Away With Shit. Expect a whinging Hannity monologue any minute now.

Ok, folks, I’m calling it here. Any other insanity outbreaks will just have to wait ‘till Monday.

Now, I will write more on this topic soon, but let me wrap up tonight with a great big fat fucking THANK YOU to everyone who has backed the Kickstarter for my first comic book. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and I made this first book with this blog’s audience in mind, hoping some of y’all would be interested. I was unprepared and delighted by the wave of support, which exceeded not only my expectations, but my wildest hopes. So...thank you. And if you haven’t seen the Kickstarter yet, there’s plenty of time, all the cool kids are doing it, the fuck are you waiting for? (Click here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost)

*Y’know, the kind that comes in boxes. The GOOD stuff.

**The Mike Lee Explosion is currently touring casinos and state fairs throughout the Midwest. 

Ah, the First Shitstorm of the Year! Delightful! (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Last week, I was driven right up to the edge of madness, a perfectly reasonable reaction to all the vag candle news and whatnot. If anything pushes me all the way off the cliff, it’s learning that there’re somehow folks who look around our poor, hurting, world, from the Australian wildfires to the daily assaults on the pillars of American democracy, and decide to funnel their emotional energy into yelling at Burger King for saying “damn” in a commercial. Anyway, don’t tell One Million Moms about this blog, I don’t think they could handle it.

(As always, find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/ah-the-first-shitstorm-of-the-year-delightful/)

If Matt Gaetz were anyone but Matt Gaetz, I’d feel bad for him. After three years as one of Team Treasonweasel’s most devoted stooges, parroting every talking point, attacking every enemy, spreading every lie, all while gorging himself on the scraps from Shart Garfunkel’s table, Matty begged permission to buck the party line once, just one little ol’ vote, one time. Like a Death Eater asking Voldemort to spare his pet hamster, Gaetz only wanted leave to back House Democrats’ war powers resolution; it was an inconsequential vote in the grand scheme of things, and surely nobody could begrudge him this one, teensy-weensy principle, this single, nigh-microscopic, gun to stick to? HA HA NOPE, the excommunication from Cult45 was swift and brutal, and all past service was entirely forgotten as the Trumpist media dogpile eagerly devoured their new target. “I betrayed everything decent about myself and my country and all I have to show for it is this shitty, made-in-China, red ballcap,” right?

It’s certainly surprising to watch a walking colon tumor take credit for fighting cancer, but in lieu of actual accomplishments, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has indeed taken to bragging about a drop in the cancer mortality rate, as though he had one fuckin’ thing to do with it, as though he hasn’t done his damndest to cut federal funding for cancer research. Old bastard’s one bad news cycle away from claiming responsibility for you grandson’s B+ on his fractions test, is all I’m sayin’.

The wealth might not be tricklin’ down in Donald Trump’s Amerikkka, but y’know what is? SHITTINESS. Take, for example, former-Mrs.-Florida-turned-Trumpy-pundit Karyn Turk, on her way to prison for stealing her Alzheimer’s-afflicted elderly mother’s social security checks, like any good Christian would. Like so many of her ilk, Turk attempted to cast herself as the victim of some nebulous anti-conservative witch-hunt, right up until admitting she was caught red-handed, and pleading guilty. Anyway, I look forward to Karyn winning at least three or four states in the 2024 GOP presidential primary.

Relations with Iraq continue deteriorating at the predictable pace of all things touched by Dorito Mussolini’s tiny, inadequate, hands, as the Put-Allies-in-One-End-Watch-‘Em-Come-Out-as-Enemies-on-the-Other Pipeline known as the Trump Administration diplomacy shop has progressed in its response to Baghdad’s “Your troops don’t have to go home but they can’t stay here” request from “MAKE US” to “MAKE US AND ALSO WE WILL CUT OFF ACCESS TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNTS IF YOU TRY.” Wow, an occupying forces that blackmails you with your own money? It’s like colonialist bingo.

In an interview with Just Put The Uniform On Already We All Know You Want To Telefascist Laura Ingraham, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot bragged extensively about transforming the U.S. military into a mercenary force, apparently for sale to the highest bidder. Somebody’s checking to make sure these payments are going into the Treasury and not some offshore gilded-toilets-and-extra-strength-golf-pants fund, right?

As for the Soleimani strike itself, I feel like I can’t even cover it here; I’m sure the bullshit rationale for the assassination offered by the Shart House will have shifted more than once between the fleeting moment in time when I compose this sentence, and the point, hours into the far-flung future, when you actually read it.

I’ll tell you one thing, though: if Barack Obama had ordered the killing of a high-ranking foreign government official on the grounds that it was necessary to prevent imminent attacks on multiple embassies, only to have his very own Defense Secretary say, on live television, “Uh, nope, that particular intelligence seems to have been pulled directly from the presidential ass,” half the GOP Senate caucus would’ve sustained serious injuries in the ensuing stampede to get in front of a camera to condemn that shit, and call for impeachment, if not outright civil war.

Of course, now we’re learning the Bonespur Buttplug, egged on by the bloodthirsty likes of Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo and the Genocidal Mustache Symbiotically Attached to John Bolton’s Upper Lip, actually approved the killing months ago, and was just hangin’ around, waiting for an “imminent” excuse to manifest itself. You know, I’m starting to believe these people are somewhat less than trustworthy.

Anyway the point is, our Commander-in-Chief, a doddering old nitwit who was never very smart to begin with, and who is now experiencing such rapid mental decline that what’s left of his brains is all but leaking out of his ears, basically reserves the right to murder anybody anywhere for any reason, how fun!

Well, the gibbering, incontinent, cowardly, septuagenarian toddler hailed as a beacon of strength by a millions-strong cult of critically-unperceptive white people spent most of the weekend doing the one thing he does truly well: whining. He thinks it’s profoundly unfair that he finally got himself into some trouble that daddy’s money can’t buy him out of, and the “stigma” of impeachment is now attached to his name, a name which is already synonymous with racism, stupidity, tyranny, mendacity, failure, sexual assault, financial crime, bullying, stealing money from charity to buy paintings of yourself, inability to tie a necktie or close an umbrella, operating concentration camps full of terrified children on American soil, stochastic terrorism, and treason, but sure “impeachment” is the bit that’s harming the brand.

Meanwhile Nancy Pelosi, with a playful jingle of the thimble she keeps on her desk, in which she’s stored Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops’ wee testicles since the 2018/19 shutdown fight, reminded him, impeachment is FOREVER, old man. Seriously, Shartboy, “stigma” doesn’t begin to cover what history is going to do to you. The books will be printed on scratch n’ sniff paper, to more accurately capture the festering outhouse stench of your loathsome, despised, reign.                        

Because it’s just the sort of thing you do when you live in Hell, everybody pulled their hair out for a couple of hours, attempting to decipher the meaning of a message from the official Shart House Twitter account celebrating the “first snow of the year” on a lovely, 70 degree, and naturally, snowless evening in D.C. Was this merely the latest bit of tragicomic incompetence from the Clowncar Full of Rectums mismanaging our poor nation, meaning we should worry somebody maybe left the keys to a couple of nuclear missile silos on the counter at Starbucks? Or was it a sinister elevation of the administration’s incessant gaslighting, claiming the authority to rewrite reality to the point where they demand rejection of the evidence of your very senses? Is Kellyanne Conway just playing a prank on her husband, as part of whatever kinky sex thing they’ve been working out? We may never know.

And the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits unleashed an even batshittier-than-usual Tweetstorm (my god, wasn’t life nicer before we understood what that word meant?), as though he felt it necessary to remind America, ahead of the impeachment trial, that he’s super-stupid, super-vile, and super-bigoted. We remember, bro. Really we do. We don’t hate you for no reason, y’know.

Anyway, we’ve arrived at the point when Strawberry Shartcake can no longer properly spell even his favorite slurs, so anyway, big congrats to Messrs. McConnell and McCarthy, as well as their respective caucuses, for hogtying their reputations to a dude who’s basically What if the Titanic was Really Dumb Rich Guy in Silly Balloon Pants.

With no tactics left to fall back on beyond Fooling Some of the People All of the Time and Hoping the Fools are Adequately Concentrated in the Rust Belt, the Marmalade Shartcannon is now attempting to cast himself as the one true champion of protecting health care coverage for folks with pre-existing conditions, even after pissing away most of his political capital in 2017 on a bill that would’ve shredded those protections; indeed, even as his administration fights in the courts to destroy judicially (but not until after the election please and thank you) what he failed to annihilate legislatively. Maybe he’ll try to run against his ENTIRE record, and the debates will just be two candidates agreeing Donald Trump is a malicious, incompetent, buffoon, only one of them is Donald Trump wearing a fake beard.

Another victory for Sultan Spraytan in the never-ending mine’s-bigger-than-yours competition with his predecessor that gnaws away at his decomposing brain day and night; regrettably we’re talking about the annual deficit. Back over $1 Trillion, huh?  Heckuva job, Fuckwad.

Well, we’ve got plenty of dangling plot lines looking for resolutions, don’t we? Will the Senate allow witnesses at the impeachment trial? What’s in the documents the Department of Energy has just agreed to release, regarding all things shady and Ukrainian? How long will Chris Collins be a burden on the correctional system*? What’s in the bundle o’ evidence Lev Parnas is turning over to Congress? Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? Tune in next time, same Shower Cap time, same Shower Cap channel!

...and until then, how ‘bout giving me a hand with my VERY FIRST COMIC BOOK? The Kickstarter launches TOMORROW MORNING, unless you’re reading this blog in the morning, in which case it launches MORE OR LESS RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT. You can read more about the book here; (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) it’s designed for a Resistance audience like YOU, because I am NOT ABOVE PANDERING.

Seriously, I wrote it with y'all in mind, and I think you'll dig it. There are some fun rewards on the Kickstarter for readers of the blog, available in limited quantities, so act fast!

PS - I am absolutely missing some late-breaking stories, for which I apologize. It’s a big night ahead of the big launch, so bear with me, and I’ll catch up on everything later in the week!

*I almost wrote “penal system,” but I don’t trust you immature fuckers. 

We Almost Went to War with Iran This Week, But it's the Gwyneth Paltrow News That's Got Me Shook

Y’know, it’s been one of the bat-shittier weeks of the entire Shart regime, but I really thought I could handle everything and persevere with my madness-chroniclin’ duties, but then I found out about Gwyneth Paltrow’s vag-scented candle, and...that did it, folks. That one broke me. Any paragraphs that are not pure gibberish tonight are simply the last gasps of a dying brain.

(As always, you can find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/we-almost-went-to-war-with-iran-this-week-but-its-the-gwyneth-paltrow-news-thats-got-me-shook/)

The House and the Senate continue their slap fight over the impeachment trial. Nancy Pelosi would like Mitch McConnell to behave as though the Constitution were some sort of legally binding document, while Wrinkly Gamera would prefer to move past all those pesky stories of the Senate GOP’s complicity in Il Douche’s treasonous crime spree and get back to focusing on the work of transforming drooling right wing idiot bloggers into federal judges.

Visibly-Decomposing Propaganda Spigot Lou Dobbs has had it up to his jowls with ungrateful Americans who don’t understand their “obligations” to Emperor Turdmaggot, because he is Hawt 4 Fascism. Gotta say, Lou, I checked the Constitution, and my only “obligation” to your cheap conman overlord is to tell him precisely where he can stick his shitty, loser, wannabe dictatorship.*

We all know Squeezably Soft Telefascist Sebastian Gorka is a lying goon, a faux intellectual, and a basement-dwelling internet troll’s idea of an “alpha male,” but did you also know he’s pervy old creep who likes to sneer and joke about teenage girls’ bodies? Honestly, it would be quite surprising if ol’ Seb ever demonstrated a single non-repulsive personality trait, wouldn't it?

Well, Tuesday night sure was fun, as Iran’s inevitable retaliation for the Suleimani killing, in the form of missile strikes on U.S. bases in Iraq, kept us up all night worrying about whether one blithering manchild's fragile ego would really launch another senseless, bloody, forever war.

Anyway, after a good night’s sleep and apparently taking All the Drugs in the World, President Crotchrot gave one of his trademark rambling, sniffly, teleprompter speeches Wednesday morning. He blamed everything on Obama, and claimed credit for totally, 100%, defeating ISIS, which’ll be news to all the ISIS fighters he got released from prison in Syria, all the while slurring his speech like a Cubs fan singing the seventh inning stretch, but at least he didn’t fuck shit up as much as he could have, so if Lindsey Graham feels like giving that sad, barely-coherent, rant a five-star rating on Yelp, I’ll just chuckle and say, “Hey, hope you a least got a round of golf out of this latest humiliating debasement, kid.”

Now, I know most of my readers are lefty commie pinko types, so it is my sad duty to request that y’all kindly stop luvving terrorists so dang much. Stop taking terrorists to the movies and pulling the I’m-yawning-no-wait-I’m-actually-putting-my-arm-around-you bit. Stop taking them to malt shops and looking longingly into their eyes over shared strawberry milkshakes. And stop booty-calling ISIS in the middle of the night for Pete’s sake! Patriotic Republicans like Doug Collins, Kevin McCarthy, and Nikki Haley are tired of your terrorist sympathies, Democrats, and they’ll keep on making the same old totally-in-good-faith-wink-wink arguments until you break up with your al-Qaeda boyfriends!

Anyway, you could be forgiven for losing track of all the different bullshit excuses the Treasonweasel Administration has offered to justify the Suleimani assassination, because the story changes from hour to hour and liar to liar. It was either retaliation for the recent death of a contractor or an emergency intervention necessary to prevent an imminent attack and no we absolutely cannot provide any evidence whatsoever to back our shit up but how dare you impugn our integrity when have we ever lied to you except every single fucking day since taking office? To hear it told, either Iran was about to blow up every American embassy in the world (sure they were, Shart-Shart), or maybe some minor diplomat just stink-palmed Mike Pompeo at the U.N. last year.

Vice President Mike Pants insists there’s special super-secret intelligence backing up whatever crap Boss Shart happens to be spinning (nine embassies and a Steak ‘n Shake outside Indianapolis by now, surely) but us plebes can’t see it on account of how special and super-secret it is, and lordy, you jagoffs have pulled this shit so many times we’ve beaten the Canadian Girlfriend gag to death. Y’all are the shitshow that altered a weather map with a goddamn marker. No, you do not have secret intelligence. No, we don’t believe you. While we’ve got your attention, no, you’re not a real Christian, either, and also the potato salad you bring to every GOP potluck tastes like moldy ass.

The utter ridiculousness of the administration’s lazy bullshit was enough to make Utah Senator Mike Lee briefly manifest his long-absent spinal column, calling out Team Fuckhead for their insultingly shitty “intelligence briefing,” and even threatening to support the Democratic war powers resolution, a rare assertion of “Hey, we are so a co-equal branch of government, the Constitution sez so!” from a party increasingly defined by bootlicking sycophancy. Lee’s principled rebellion lasted almost an entire day, before he returned to his customary groveling.

Of course, at the risk of cutting through the crap for a minute, the Wall Street Journal, that fake nooz liberal rag, reports Shart Garfunkel ordered the strike in a desperate attempt to bribe an unknown handful of GOP Senators into looking the other way on the whole “high crimes and misdemeanors” thing. Seems like a totally legit reason to toss a sackful of badgers and firecrackers into the Mid East powderkeg, doesn’t it? He really would burn the entire world to cinder for just one solitary scoop of ice cream for himself, y’know.

Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag has been lying low since a series of embarrassing photo ops with his Duchess of White Privilege trophy wife, but he’s resurfaced with a bold new plan for an American economy that benefits everyone, not just the already-wealthy, and JUST KIDDING he’s apparently spending his time these days doing all he can to hide the cost of Strawberry Shartcake’s weekly golf vacations to the Secret Service from the American public, i.e. the poor suckers footing the fuckin’ bill. Real meaningful life you’ve got there, Steve. Congratulations.

Meanwhile, the Die Peasants Die Administration is trying take your cake and eat theirs too, asking the courts to kindly delay any Obamacare-destroying activities until after the 2020 election, so they won’t be held electorally accountable for, y’know, condemning millions to unnecessary suffering, bankruptcy, and death. They still want to kill a bunch of Americans, understand, they just want their votes first.

It wouldn’t be a week in Shartopia without the Wayne Gretzky of Losing in Court losing in court again, and sure enough, the Sunny D-Bag’s feeble attempt to dismiss E. Jean Carroll’s defamation lawsuit went the way of the overwhelming majority of his legal endeavors: straight down the judicial crapper, and also he noticed too late that there is no toilet paper in the stall. When Littlefinger dies, the one thing I will miss is watching him lose in court.

While we’re on the subject, yet another right-wing conspiracy theory has collapsed under the weight of reality, as the Justice Department finally wrapped up their investigation into that always-obviously-horseshit Uranium One nonsense, concluding that you can’t prosecute Hillary Clinton for totally made-up reasons, no matter how much you really, really, want to. Of course, in the lunatic far-right media bubble, this will no doubt be greeted not as a grudging exoneration of HRC, but as still more evidence of the fearsome might of the deep state pedophile pizzagate Muslim Brotherhood Democrap libtard cabal, and how fun is it that millions of our fellow citizens have been so thoroughly brainwashed/radicalized**?

Dang, that’s gonna disappoint Bronco Billy Barr, who already has enough on his plate with his Please Help Me Make Up Shit About Joe Biden, If He Wins I’m Going to Jail world tour, and now the New York City Bar Association is asking Congress to formally investigate his ongoing efforts to turn the Department of Justice into a partisan cudgel, wielded on behalf of a dirtbag cult of shitty white supremacist losers. Did I say “shitty white supremacists?” Because that’s redundant. Anyway, fuck Bill Barr.

As he usually does when he needs a little break from the daily grind of failing at everything, Government Cheese Goebbels hosted another one of his little Klan rallies, because stoking the resentments of the shittiest white people in the world is just what he does to unwind after a long day of stealing taxpayer money and fucking up literally everything he can get his tiny, inadequate, little hands on. He seemed oddly obsessed with Adam Schiff’s neck this time, as though his own doesn’t resemble a manatee’s scrotum. Oh, and he described Democrats as “vicious, horrible people,” which is a funny way for a President to talk about the majority of his constituents, if you ask me.

And the How Is It Even Possible to Suck This Much Administration formally revoked the earlier “Fine, you want us to leave, we’ll leave, fine. FINE!” letter accidentally sent to Iraq, issuing a new “We’re staying whether you like it or not WE’RE A FORCE FOR GOOD” statement, what could POSSIBLY go wrong? Everybody loves an occupier, right? That’s like, a proverb or some shit, surely. Greeted as Liberators, Invited to Weekly Game Night as Occupiers. Surely.

Whew. After a week overflowing with that much hot bullshit, I bet everybody could use a little good news to purge that lingering turd taste and start your weekend off on the right foot. I am delighted to find myself in a position to offer y’all just such a figurative breath mint.

In my home state of Kansas, for example, shiny new Democratic Governor Laura Kelly struck a deal with Senate Republicans to expand Medicaid, bringing health care coverage to more than 100,000 residents of the Trust Me We’ve Already Heard Your Wizard of Oz Joke state!

You want more good news? Ok, that’s a little greedy, but how about the New York Senate passing an automatic voter registration bill? How about the all-new, all-blue government in Virginia standing up to maniacal militia types and passing some common-sense gun control bills?

Look, you’re gonna fill up on good news, and you won’t want your supper...I should stop, but HOLY SHIT RBG IS CANCER-FREE, Y’ALL! I’ll drink to that all fuckin’ night long! Shit, I’ve been celebrating that news so hard, it’s a miracle I sobered up long enough to write this blog!***

In return for this Pepperidge Farm gift basket of good news, I do have a favor to ask. I'm launching the Kickstarter for my very first comic book, The Worth & The Cost, this coming Tuesday, and I could really your help. It’s a nifty little Resistance fable, a stand-alone sci-fi story about getting off of the sidelines and onto the front lines, and I think you’ll really dig it. If y’all can help me spread the word, or even chip in if you’re able, well, I’d just be happier than a Trump in a beauty pageant dressing room!

Learn more about my comic here: http://showercapblog.com/the-worth-the-cost/

P.S., the Kickstarter will feature some really fun rewards for fans of the blog, in limited quantities, so sign up for updates and don’t miss ‘em!



*Up his ass, is the implication here, if that was somehow unclear.

**SO fun, right? 

***I did not, in fact, sober up before writing this blog. 

Hard Times & War Crimes: News From Hell (Ferret/Shower Cap)

I was looking over some old blog entries the other day, and it seems almost quaint to have written about comparatively trivial crap like, “wow, Scott Pruitt buys really expensive lotion haw haw haw” now that we’re breaking shit that won’t get fixed in my lifetime, but here we are. Might as well do the news, I 'spose.

(And yeah, you can get this post, with all those news links AND a preview image for my forthcoming comic, at: http://showercapblog.com/hard-times-war-crimes-news-from-hell/)

Tonight’s theme is Entirely Predictable Consequences, because, shockingly, the killing of Qassem Suleimani has not resulted in a spontaneous downpour of delicious frosting mingled with hailstones of moistest red velvet cake, but rather the fecal hurricane that any rational person could have seen coming from miles away, and isn’t it a dang shame there are no such people to be found anywhere in the executive branch of the United States federal government in this fresh new year? Like, you’d settle for a pushy intern at this point, wouldn’t you?

We learned Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops couldn’t help but slink around Marm-a-Lago over the holidays, desperately trying to impress the wealthy dirtbags who line his pockets with membership fees in exchange for the opportunity to wield the power of the American presidency simply by manipulating his fragile ego, teasing them something big and bomb-shaped, that rhymes with Munconstitutional Massassination, was coming soon regarding Iran, even while hiding the plans from the congressional Gang of Eight. It might behoove House Democrats to join Every Intelligence Agency on Earth and set up a little surveillance equipment down at the “Winter White House.”

Thuggish Theocratic Diplogoon Mike Pompeo is all peeved n’ pissy because America’s traditional European allies have proven somewhat less than eager to share the credit for Shart Garfunkel’s latest colossal blunder. Shit, even Boris “no, I look like this on purpose” Johnson is smart enough to tell Littlefinger “Actually, you can have the terrorist retaliation all to yourself, old boy.”

Yeah, Mike, it’s just an indecipherable fucking mystery why these people you’ve been pelting with shit for three long years aren’t gleefully leaping into the car you’re driving off a cliff (and in a stupid, suicidal, way, not an awesome, life-affirming, Thelma & Louise way, for the record). IS THERE ANYBODY IN THIS ADMINISTRATION WITH EVEN A PASSING FAMILIARITY WITH THE IDEA OF CAUSE AND EFFECT?

Pentagon officials have convened a hasty game of Pin the Blame on the Dotard, leaking to the press details of what only the profoundly charitable would call the “decision-making process” behind the Drone Strike That Fucked Literally Everything Up. Seems Dorito Mussolini’s military advisors were in the habit of presenting him with a buffet of options, including one extreme “only a braindead moron would pick this one” choice, designed to make the other plans look more reasonable by comparison. Whoever could’ve imagined that playing silly little psychological games with an idiot manchild would backfire so spectacularly? Who, except, y’know...everybody? Fucking EVERYBODY?!?

Oh, and all that stuff about having two scoops of plump, juicy, intelligence that the strike was necessary to prevent an “imminent” attack? Yeah, that’s quickly turning out to be pure horseshit as well, and there’s no Colin Powell to razzle-dazzle the U.N. this time, but if you try to trot out, say, Stephen Miller to bamboozle the world, I will buy front row seats.

Some bored pollster/aspiring horror writer decided to ask a bunch of Republicans who they wanted to see run for President in 2024, and two of the top choices turned out to be Turdwaffle, Jr., and Princess Ivanka Turdwaffle, I guess because rank and file conservatives just like paying rich people to golf. Like, I get the concept of a cult of personality, but I guess I always figured there would something appealing about the personality, y’know? A mouth-breathing 40-year-old boy who looks like he diligently collected stray pubes from the locker room and glued them to his cheeks because he can’t grow a beard on his own? For PRESIDENT? Fuck, I’d get up and move if he sat next to me on the train.

Oh, but Son of Shart is out to prove me wrong, showing off his political bonafides by...sigh...by posting pictures of himself holding a gun decorated with this sad little cartoon of Hillary Clinton behind bars, and grinning like he finally, after years of humiliating failure and declining expectations, switched to pull-up diapers. You should most definitely nominate this kid, Republicans. The platform can be owning th’libs and...and...let’s face it, that’s all you care about anymore, so why not line up behind the Sultan Spraytan Subpar Son?

I can’t tell if it really falls under the mission of this blog to mention that Meat Loaf and Greta Thunberg are feuding, but for what it’s worth, Meat Loaf and Greta Thunberg are feuding.

But let’s get back to those consequences. It’s almost as though the Treasonweasel Administration felt bad about killing Suleimani, and decided to give him more or less everything he ever wanted to make up for it. So when the Cult45ers in your social media feed squawk WHY U LUV TERRORISTS SO MUCH, you can point out all the pesky real-world effects of the Bonespur Buttplug's recklessness.

Huge anti-American protests erupted all over Iraq and Iran, and god only knows how many angry young people will now wind up forgoing that long-shot theatre degree to pursue a career in terrorism instead. Anyway, as far as ominous signs go, you could do worse than the unfurling of a red flag, symbolizing vengeance, over the Jamarkaran Mosque in Qom, Iran. Increased hatred of the USA? Strengthening the autocratic Iranian regime? Point Suleimani.

The Government of Iran, of course, promptly announced they would no longer abide by agreed-upon restrictions placed on their nuclear program, golly, that’ll sure stick it to Obama, right? Anyway, back to the ol’ uranium enrichment labs, I bet it’ll be super-fun, like Breaking Bad meets Jack Ryan, oh wait, I keep getting TV and reality confused since we put a game show host in charge of national security.

And in Iraq, the Parliament voted to expel all U.S. troops from their borders, because, as anyone who’s ever read Miss Manners understands, it’s really quite rude to conduct drone strike assassinations when you’re a guest in someone else’s home. Anyway, in the aftermath of the attack, Iraq has been pushed further than ever into Iran’s willing arms, in case you’re wondering why Suleimani’s corpse has that sloppy grin on its face.

(In an apparent effort to forever eradicate the perception of American military competence in front of the entire world, the Cud-Brained Dolt Administration issued a letter announcing immediate and total compliance with Iraq’s request to Kindly Get the Fuck Out, only to walk that bad boy back a couple hours later, sending the Fucking Chairman of the Joint Fucking Chiefs of Staff out to announce, “Whoopsie, our bad, didn’t mean it, it turns out we are massive fuck-ups. Anyway, stand by, we’ve got some equipment en route that should help us pull our heads out of our asses, but don’t get your hopes up.”)

Oh, and U.S. troops in Iraq have now suspended anti-ISIS operations so they can hang around and wait for potential Iranian retaliation instead, that’s a fun rearrangement of priorities, isn’t it? It’s weird to have a President who’s done more to benefit ISIS than, say, the U.S. manufacturing sector, which is in recession due to Weehands McNodick’s Dumbass Trade War™️, and weirder still to have the party of "fiscal conservatism" and "national security" enabling him every disastrous step of the way, but y’know...interesting times and all that.

Anyway, this is what happens when you hand the keys to the most powerful military machine in history to a tantrum-prone narcissist with an insecure third-grade boy’s idea of “toughness”; the sugar rush of a button pushed and half a day’s worth of sensational headlines, followed by the inevitable, totally avoidable, crash, a price to be paid by untold thousands for years to come. History, scrawled in crayon, by a sociopath with single, dried-out, rabbit turd for a soul.

Indeed, the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor has responded to the snowballing pile of shit of his own making with his trademark brand of apocalyptic childishness, threatening to bomb cultural sites inside Iran (a war crime, of course, but get in line, The Hague), and to levy sanctions against Iraq for kicking him out before he could finish working his way through their complete set of Everybody Loves Raymond DVDs. Y’know, you catch more flies with honey than with pompous, belligerent, and ultimately hollow, bluster, Dotard.

As for the violence that’s almost sure to come, don’t worry, Mike Pompeo has already written off the casualties as merely “a little noise,” a casual reminder that he is a religious nutcase trying to use the powers of the U.S. government to give the end times an encouraging nudge whenever possible, sleep tight.

Meanwhile, Paul Gosar is still out there doin’ his best to provide a role model for all the shittiest kids in America, proving you can be an unrepentant bag of moldy dicks, and still get rewarded with wealth and power. You like photoshop so much, Paulie? Tonight’s graphic is for you.

Oh, and I see John Bolton is once again strutting around, tantalizingly flaunting his filthy mustache lingerie, promising to tell a tantalizing tale of treason, if only Mitch McConnell and the GOP-controlled Senate will subpoena him. Flash all the ankle you like, old man, I’m not buying your book.

In the wake of Murderstache’s tease, Marco Rubio reached miles up his own ass, past all the just-in-case plastic water bottles, to offer the theory that the Senate shouldn’t hear Bolton’s testimony because an old witch laid a curse upon the Upper House that forbids them from hearing new evidence in an impeachment trial, which is as silly as it is craven, and therefore awfully fucking silly indeed. Looking on the bright side, I think it’s cool that, even as a slovenly, drunken, moron in a beat-to-hell Captain America bathrobe, I still have more integrity and self-respect than a U.S. Senator.

Ok, that’s what I’ve got for y’all tonight. Anyway, we’re launching the kickstarter for the comic book very soon, tentatively on January 15th. If you don’t contribute, I’m gonna drink a bunch of cheap beer, eat some shitty bar food, come over to your house, and commit a war crime in your bathroom. You’ve been warned. 

War, Too? Sure, Why Not? or, America Was Fun While it Lasted! (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Ah, there’s nothing like a fresh new year, is there? Change is in the air, hope is ascendant, the possibilities seem limitless...of course we all knew President Crotchrot would find a way to fuck everything up before too long, but could he truly not last three fucking days? Fucking of course not, and I was naive to even ask.

(As always, you can get this post, WITH all them nifty nooz links, at: http://showercapblog.com/war-too-sure-why-not-or-america-was-fun-while-it-lasted/)

Following U.S. airstrikes in Iraq, protesters stormed the American embassy in Baghdad, because nobody in the entire Malignant Dipshit Administration could be bothered to consider, “Hey, before we bomb the shit out of these people, maybe we should beef up security at our diplomatic outposts,” because learning from past mistakes is for CUCKS. Somehow a week that started with the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits lurching around, desperately screaming NO BENGHAZI YOU’RE THE BENGHAZI would quickly become exponentially even more fucked, on account of how we live in Hell and all.

Well, despite three years of playing truth or dare with Kim Jong-un and always choosing dare and dutifully performing every humiliating task* that third rate, third world, dictator asked of him, Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops sat helplessly by as North Korea announced they would resume testing nuclear weapons and long-range missiles, plus they’ll make sure to glue one of those hilariously presumptuous challenge coins to every single warhead. So yeah, the Shart of the Deal gave Kim the global legitimacy his family has long craved, suspended military exercises in the region, and alienated our allies there, including South Korea, and what he has to show for it is slightly less valuable than your average Happy Meal prize.

With all this international news madness assaulting your senses, you’re probably worried that the State Department, already hollowed out by the fuckery of Rex Tillerson and Mike Pompeo, simply lacks the resources to put out all the fires. Well worry not, Deborah of the House Downer, Foggy Bottom remains laser-focused on the shit that really matters like...conducting a full fucking investigation into mega-important matters like Encyclopedia Dumbass and the Case of the Chelsea Clinton Tweet. See, somebody in the E.U. ambassador’s office clicked “like” on something Chelsea posted on the information superhighway, and Team Treasonweasel turned the fuckin’ place upside down trying to find the “culprit.” Yes, even as our oldest alliances crumbled to dust. What, you imagine your government prioritizes national security over Weehands McNodick’s gossamer ego? Oh, my sweet summer child.

Psychotic War Criminal/Trumpal Campaign Surrogate Eddie Gallagher seems to have launched his very own line of murderous jagoffwear, for the fashion-conscious lunatic who wants to send a bold statement, like, “never leave me alone in a room with a child,” or “cross the street the very moment you see me.” Anyhow, modern conservatism is mostly about being publicly, unapologetically, shitty, isn’t it? “I basically just wanna discriminate against my fellow American citizens, buy clothes from a serial killer, and take health care away from as many people as I possibly can...MAGA!”

Meanwhile, Delusional Thug Sidekick Corey Lewandowski has declined the opportunity to let Senator Jeanne Shaheen electorally tap dance all over his failed, battered, scrotum for our viewing pleasure, and I, for one, am more than mildly disappointed. After all, the Dirtbag Concession Speech is practically pornography to me these days, and remains an essential part of any Resister’s balanced emotional diet.

It’s shockingly difficult to find amusing new ways to say, “newly-released documents add to the already mountainous pile of evidence that Shart Garfunkel thinks Ukraine is Russian for The Place Wherein One Commits Crimes,” because documents of that sort turn up with the regularity of America Online CD-ROMs circa 1994. In this particular case, we have an OMB official telling the Pentagon that Dorito Mussolini personally ordered the aid freeze, an even smokinger gun than any of the previous extremely smoking guns we’ve already seen. Man, there’s so much evidence here you’d have to start a fuckin’ war to change the subject. (Note the author’s use of foreshadowing in this paragraph. What a clever fellow**.)

A group of Mostly-Republican-But-Also-Containing-Dan-Lipinski-Who-We-Should-Fire-in-the-Primary Congresscreeps sent a letter to Santa Kavanaugh asking him to kindly take advantage of his position in the new, post-Kennedy, anti-choice, SCOTUS majority to purty please overturn Roe v. Wade so we can do away with all that silly female bodily autonomy and get back to the good ol’ days when women were property and did what the menfolk said. If you listen closely, you can almost hear Susan Collins’ brow furrowing ineffectually.

Well, the Democratic presidential field continues to narrow. Julián Castro exited the primary, as did Marianne Williamson...’s staff, though the candidate herself has vowed to use the last lingering remnants of the political spotlight to spread nutty woo-woo shit until the last campaign reporter gets reassigned. I don’t expect her to formally concede until 2027.

Anyway, pretty light news week, likely owing to the holiday season. Oh, the United States did profoundly destabilize the Middle East, carrying out an act of war against Iran by assassinating General Qassem Soleimani in a drone strike at an airport in Baghdad, Iraq. In keeping with the unwritten rules of the day, I’ll issue the obligatory preface that ol’ Qassem was a murdering shitbag who was decidedly not invited to Games of Thrones night at my place, but there also these things called “consequences,” and though the Marmalade Shartcannon has avoided them his whole life thanks to Daddy’s money, not everyone is so lucky, and Iran has already vowed revenge, so consequences are on their way because FUCKING OF COURSE THEY ARE YOU NITWITS.

Oh, and the strike also killed Iraqi militia leader Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, so we pissed off two regional powers for the price of one! It’d be a bargain, were the currency not, y’know...blood.

Yes, Hairplug Himmler, who couldn’t find Iran on a map***, finally fired the last arrow in his quiver, playing some imaginary You Can’t Impeach a War Hero President card that exists in only in his misaligned mind. He has abandoned his Nobel Peace Prize dreams in the wake of Kim Jong-un’s atomic middle finger, and now fantasizes about the nation uniting behind him in patriotic bloodthirst as he clumsily wields the Saber of War with his tiny, inadequate, little fingers. Never mind the endless quagmires perpetrated by predecessors who hadn’t decimated the leadership of the State and Defense departments through malice, mismanagement, and incompetence, I’m sure the band of geniuses who fucked up the White House Easter Egg Roll can totally pull this one off.

Ari Fleischer and the Neocon Clown Car certainly wasted little time getting the band back together to meet the sudden demand for nostalgic bullshit warmongering, playing all the classic hits, like “We Will Be Greeted as Liberators,” and “I Can’t Believe Anybody Trusts One Word That Comes Out of my Lying Mouth, But Thanks for Having Me on TV Anyway, You Gullible Chumps.” Mike Pence made a surprise guest cameo with a cover of George W. Bush's famous, “Let’s Say There Were Ties to 9-11, Because You Rubes Will Believe Anything.”

And before anybody could say “Mission Accomplished,” the Pentagon announced the first wave of new Middle East troop deployments, on account of the whole starting-a-fire-in-a-match-factory thing. Remember, the rationale for abandoning our loyal Kurdish allies to slaughter a few short weeks ago was “bringing the troops home,” but I guess that was just so they could get a little rest, see Star Wars, and get back to the important work of dying for the sake of President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster’s re-election campaign.

Chief Thuglomat Pompeo says “de-escalation is the goal,” and that might seem strange, since “extreme, world-shaking, escalation” was the tactic, but when you remember that we are governed by dangerous idiots who are bad at everything, literally everything, it makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it? It’s almost adorable, watching these assclowns insist they’d somehow thwarted an imminent attack...betcha wish you hadn’t burned through all your credibility lying about crowd size and Fat Q*bert’s height and weight now, don’tcha? No trust, no allies...in fact the default assumption is that here, as in all things, you’re lying your treasonous little asses off.

And speaking of escalation, there was another airstrike in Iraq while I was writing up tonight’s blog, because of course there was.

Anyway, I bet it’s crazy fun, being in the military, or the diplomatic corps, in the Middle East right now, wondering if you’re the lucky schmuck who hit the pay-with-my-life-for-Conman-Don’s-reckless-ego-trip sweepstakes. Jokes aside, dear reader, I sincerely hope it isn’t you, or anyone you care about. Fuck, I hope it doesn’t happen to anyone at all, but that seems like a fool’s hope tonight.

And now that there’s a potential war on the table, somehow shit is going to get even crazier, and the mere thought of that just make me fuckin’ TWITCH, y’know? I need a drink. Fortunately, I have a drink.

*Pee tape schmee tape

**Handsome, too.

***...of Iran.****

****Yeah, I used that gag before. Die mad about it. In fact, get conscripted into the Iran War and die in Iran about it.

Oh, by the way, we’re just a few short weeks away from launching a Kickstarter for my VERY FIRST COMIC BOOK!  Hey, you wanna know the title? Click on over to showercapblog.com to find out!
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