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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 06:48 PM
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Election Week in Hell: An Expectedly Butthole-Heavy News Cycle (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Ah, it’s the most wonderful time of the year! No doubt you’re enjoying your frantic doomscrolling, your increasingly nuanced opinions on individual pollsters, and the mocking striptease of the calendar, peeling off those last few pages, as we await our fate. I’ll cut you a deal: read my blog and you’ll wind up, if nothing else, five minutes closer to Tuesday.

(As always, this link whisks you away to a magical land of color and links: http://showercapblog.com/election-week-in-hell-an-expectedly-butthole-heavy-news-cycle/)

Because the demented carousel never stops, no sooner had I posted my last rant than news broke of Shart Garfunkel abandoning a flock of loyal fans to freeze to death in the cruel Nebraska night, without so much as a Dixie cup full of Kool-Aid to keep warm. Just in case, y’know, the symbolism has been too subtle for anyone.

Frankly, I thought the universe was already laying it on a bit thick just by sending the pandemic in the first place; surely if the audience has learned anything about Donald Trump by now, it’s that he’s a sociopath who would shove you into a wood chipper for a nickel, but no, it seems some of y’all out there are slow learners, so I guess we’re breaking this down to the Only Atticus Can Stop the Mad Dog level. We’d send him door to door, to steal your change jars and grope your daughters, but he gets colicky if he doesn’t get at least ten hours of cable news in.

Well, you don’t need me to tell you early votes keep rolling in at a historic pace. When I started this draft, 84.6 million Americans had already voted; by the time I posted, that number was up to 86.3 million. And while yes, we expect an avalanche of white nationalist shitsacks to befoul the polls on Election Day itself, the available data so far is pretty close to everything we’d hoped for: youth turnout is through the roof, and other wings of the coalition seem to be showing up.

Republicans have resigned themselves to losing the election, though not, of course, to the corresponding ceding of power. Time for the extremist Trump/McConnell judiciary to earn their keep? So far, Marc Elias and his crack team of election lawyers have a Tony Gwynn-like batting average, though the dying, democracy-crushing wail of the regressive minority pulls off a successful corruption of the process here and there, as in Minnesota, where a Republican-dominated court decided it wouldn’t be too unforgivably activist of them to change the rules for voting less than a week before the election, so long as maybe a few thousand Democrats wind up disenfranchised.

Here at the end of the line, obviously no lie is too large for the flailing Turdmaggot campaign. You can’t blame ‘em, really; when your base is so thoroughly brainwashed that uncomfirmed internet posts incite them to erect shitty mini-Maginot Lines in their communities to fend off imaginary Busloads of Antifas™️, why not go big? Why NOT congratulate yourself for ending a pandemic that’s actually surging, overwhelming hospitals and infecting more Americans than ever before?

Why not accuse the very front-line health care professionals who’ve been risking their lives for us for months, while Donald Trump golfed and yelled at the television all day long, of over-counting coronavirus deaths for illicit personal profit?

On the flip side of this sinister denialist coin, the Let’s Mulch the Plebs Administration wishes all you peasants would just get on with dying at the rates necessary for their monstrous herd immunity “strategy” to work. Expect a second Trump term to include mandatory indoor Twister tournaments until the mass graves have met the Scott Atlas-approved acreage targets.

So you see, hosting superspreader hate rallies all over the country isn’t mere murderous recklessness, but a two birds/one stone kinda thing, and at the risk of earning a spittle-drenched SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT comment, MAGA Nation’s rabid voter base pursuing herd immunity while those of us in the sane majority take widely-understood precautionary measures may not be the worst thing for the country in the long run.

Because they’re not going to stop killing us any time soon. We celebrated our nine millionth COVID-19 case today; I forget, is that one paper, or jade, or should we just assume one can’t go wrong with 2020’s all-purpose gift for any occasion: a funeral shroud?

Amidst the carnage and tragedy, we’ve now heard old audio of Jared Kushner boasting about prying the reins of power away from the dastardly experts, with all their filthy science. My god, the madness of that. Like, if you were watching a Spider-Man movie, and the bad guy started monologuing about “taking the country back from the doctors,” you’d roll your eyes and change the channel.

Marsha Blackburn is getting impatient for Full Fascism to arrive, and she would like to speak to the manager, please. Honestly, what’s the good of the so-called power of a U.S. Senate seat if you aren’t allowed to bring your jackboot down upon your critics’ necks? People are saying Blackburn’s offices back in Tennessee feature moats with drawbridges that will only be lowered if you know a password that’s released to the public exclusively on 8chan, but I can neither confirm nor deny that at this time.

I see Georgia Senator David Perdue backed out of his final scheduled debate on the grounds that it would be unfair to ask him to speak from the bottom of Democratic Party candidate Jon Ossoff’s shoe, where Perdue has resided since the royal ass-whoopin’ Jon delivered in their previous encounter. Davey Boy is a racist sack of trash and I hope he loses his job next week, but I kinda see where he’s coming from here. I would not want a second helping of what Ossoff was dishing out, either.

Speaking of embattled Republican Senators humiliated into non-existence before our very eyes, if Martha McSally wasn’t Martha McSally, I’d feel sorry for her right now, but she is, so fuck her. Anyway, you can take the wages of your treason to the weekly poker game at Jeff Sessions’ place, Madame Senator-for-Now.

We were assured Brett Kavanaugh was a jurist of the highest imaginable caliber, and not the drunken, screeching yahoo he appeared to be, that his voice was so necessary on the Supreme Court that elevating his subpar ass to that bench was deemed worthy of chasing women out of the Republican Party for a generation, via the hectoring condescension of Susan Collins, and the mediocre white boy rage of one Lindsepher Olin Graham.

I bring this up because one of young Brettward’s recent opinions apparently contained such comically obvious errors that a swift public shaming led to a hastily-issued correction. Cool that a dude who the internet can effortlessly eviscerate with a casual fact-check gets to spend the rest of his life deciding what rights the rest of us schmucks get, innit?

We tend to forget about Wilbur Ross, as he is generally presumed to be napping, but it seems he’s been quietly criming throughout his tenure as Commerce Secretary, remaining on the board of a joint venture with a state-owned Chinese company for years, even while leading the Shart of the Deal’s dumbfuck, self-immolating trade war. Does this surprise anyone at this point? After Pruitt and Zinke and all the televised ritual groveling sessions that would make Stalin blush, I no longer expect the interests of the American people to even come up at the Cabinet level.

Speaking of that particular organized crime ring, Chief Thuglomat Pompeo and his odious grifter bride have also, it seems, been violating norms, ethics rules, and laws in pursuit of Mike’s ravenous, unseemly, theocrat ambition, including what I was once led to believe was the greatest sin a human being could commit, Conducting Governmente Business ‘Pon Thy Private E-mail, though of course we all understand wingnut doctrine will always adapt and evolve into Whatever Bullshit We Need the Rubes to Swallow This Time.

Ok, before we go any further, I need you to get to your fainting couch. If you don’t have a fainting couch, they’ve got ‘em on Amazon, I’m sure if you write Jeff Bezos into your will, they can have one there within an hour, ANYWAY it turns out the documents at the center of the cut-rate wannabe October surprise regarding Hunter Biden are faker than Rudy Giuliani’s new teeth. Or his patriotism.

No one is more disappointed to see this story so conclusively debunked than Tucker Carlson, who engaged in some Reed Richardsian contortions to back his way out of the promised Biden bombshell he would no longer be able to deliver. It was kinda funny to watch, until you remembered Liar Tuck’s audience doesn’t care about silly shit like logical consistency, they just want to be told who to hate. 

Lately, I’ve really grown to appreciate the pure, manic, dipshit anti-genius of Michael Caputo, who you may remember from the recent Army of Vaccine-Wielding Mall Santas story. Anyway, this time he got caught trying to hijack 265 million taxpayer dollars for reelection ads disguised as a public health campaign, featuring oodles of shiny celebrities, but not the ones who believe gay people deserve rights, because this is the Trump Administration, dammit, Where Hate Comes First™️*

Now, while we’re all focused on removing them from office, the Wad of Pubic Hair in the Corner of a Denny’s Men’s Room Administration has been quietly checking off items on their atrocity bucket list, from ending protections for grey wolves in a pathetic bit of last-minute electoral pandering, to, my God, expelling migrant children into Mexico even if they originally came from elsewhere, just throwing kids into the void without family or guidance...what sort of monsters would do such a thing? 

That’s the point of the whole unceasing fascist disinformation hurricane, of course; to overwhelm our attention span, to exhaust our capacity for outrage, so we’re too busy fighting to free children from cages to care if the Kushners are selling the nation’s foreign policy to the highest bidder, or to care about the Turkey thing, for example.

I read more news than anybody I know, and I haven’t had time to even click on the Turkey thing yet. Let’s do it now. Oh, ok. So Erdogan is buying the Dotard off (and cheaply, like always) hoping to shut down an investigation into a state-owned Turkish bank over evading U.S. sanctions on Iran. If I didn’t have a frickin’ political blog, I never would’ve even bothered to read that one, there’s simply been too much other shit to deal with.

So this is yet another story that would have been, for any of Tangerine Idi Amin’s predecessors, the single largest scandal in American history. Doesn’t even feel like major news today, does it? Corruption at that level, like some shithole nation you’d set a Michael Douglas/Kathleen Turner film in, and just...crickets.

Ok folks, that’s what I’ve got tonight. I want to thank everyone who pledged to the Kickstarter for the comic. You’ve helped make one of my oldest dreams come true, and that’s a debt a fella can’t easily repay, though I do hope you enjoy the book when it comes.

Oh, and don’t forget, I’m moving next week’s post up to Monday. I know we all have plans for Tuesday night, binging The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. and whatnot. Stay safe out there, Resisters! And VOTE! By the way, the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide is still open to receive your final donations!


*Yeah, I used the ™️ gag twice in the same blog. Fuckin’ sue me. 

Despotism, Defeat, Disease and Death: As a Closing Argument, It's...Unconventional (Ferret/Shower Cap)

For a moment, it looked like things might almost quiet down a bit for the home stretch, but now it’s sweeps week, motherfuckers, and 2020 is here to deliver one final atomic wedgie before leaving us to our fate. Look, we all know time’s gonna pass glacially between now and next Tuesday, so you may as well wade through the sewage with me...

(Yeah yeah yeah, you want it with links? You know what to do: http://showercapblog.com/despotism-defeat-disease-and-death-as-a-closing-argument-its-unconventional/)

Voting Early for Joe Biden is the hottest thing goin’ these days; it’s a legit blockbuster with 792% on Rotten Tomatoes; Zombie Roger Ebert calls it “Raw Americana so goshdarn heartwarming it’d make Frank Capra splooj right in his pants.” Our coalition, the Legion of the Decent, are turning the fuck OUT. We are making our voting plans and seeing them through. We are triple-checking that our ballots have arrived safely and been accepted. 2016 is not a lesson we’ll need twice, thank you very much.

But if you’ve been waiting to mail in your ballot, unfortunately the time to safely vote by mail has passed. Louis DeJoy, uncharacteristically for a Trump appointee, actually did the job he was hired for; regrettably that job was sabotaging the Post Office in order to make it harder to vote. SO, especially if you live in a swing state, you need to either drop your ballot off at an approved location, or vote in person. Do not trust the mail at this late date. (We’re having all the fun, here in Donald Trump’s Amerikkka, aren’t we?)

And if you’re looking to scratch that “I should be doing more, dammit!” itch, Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide is still right here waiting to funnel your last-minute donations to the Dem candidates who need ‘em most.


Now, you probably see the coronavirus outbreak as an enormous, largely preventable, American tragedy, one that has ended nearly a quarter of a million lives, crushed the economy, and caused immeasurable human suffering, but from another point of view, the pandemic is merely An Extremely Unfair Thing That is Happening to Donald Trump Personally. Admittedly that perspective is completely deranged, but it’s the official position of the President of the United States, so we have to take it seriously, at least until we get through Election Day without any airstrikes ordered on “urban” polling places.

In fairness, it certainly must be challenging, seeking re-election in the midst of a disaster one has caused directly, but then, one had ample opportunities to listen to Dr. Fauci, or to follow the Obama/Biden pandemic playbook, but instead, one decided to stick one’s tiny, inadequate fingers in one’s ears, and pretend the problem didn’t exist, didn’t one?

Y’know, Government Cheese Goebbels really can be quite creative when it comes to developing authoritarian solutions for his political problems. His latest bit of despotic brainstorming led him to propose that media coverage of the pandemic be outlawed under campaign finance laws, and I guess objective truth does work in your opponent’s favor when you’re the most massively murderous failure in American history, sure, but if you’re worried about your enemies using your record against you, maybe try fucking up less.

Anyhoo, if you really want to keep the pandemic off the front page, Dotard, may I suggest going at least a month between outbreaks at the White House? This time it’s Mike Pants’ staff that COVID-19 is tearing through like oral herpes through Spinal Tap (in the outtakes, anyway). Mark Meadows tried to hide this shit from the public, indeed from rally attendees, which seems kinda homicidal, but Mikey Hairshirt was never gonna stop holding these superspreader events; the loyal supporters he infects this week won’t die until long after their votes have been counted, so fuck ‘em, right?

The Emperor of Hemorrhoids himself remains the coronavirus’ very best friend, with his creepy little rage parties linked to outbreaks all over the country, including three just in the state of Minnesota. God, the madness of that. He was never going to win Minnesota, it was never anything but ego-stroking folly to set foot in the state at all, oh well, a few hundred people are sick, a few dozen will die, ho hum, is Hannity talking about me tonight?

Now, I’ve grown accustomed to a level of pure radioactive madness that would kill an ordinary man, but watching this Adderall-addled slug slither through the country, belching up lies and plague to audiences that eagerly devour both like ravenous baby birds, it’s...it’s a bit much, friends. I think I saw George Orwell pop up for a minute, as a Force Ghost; he took everything in, muttered something about being “too old for this shit,” and vanished.

I never thought one man’s pathological refusal to admit error could cause so much carnage, but then, I never understood how many American lives Mitch McConnell and his ilk would be willing to swap for a few more years of minority tyranny. And so we’ve lost control of the virus so completely that states are once again talking about rationing care, just like in the darkest days, a goddamn lifetime ago. It shouldn’t be possible to bring the United States this low, yet here we are.

Meanwhile, Meadows’ final message to the electorate is an extremely public proclamation of surrender to the coronavirus, I guess cuz why not try honesty, if only for novelty’s sake? Yup, dude actually went on the Sunday Shoz to confess the crisis is simply too much for his team of braindead grifters to handle, feebly adding, “On a personal level, COVID-19 straight up kicked my ass. It took my lunch money and forced me to watch as it made sweet love to my wife, pleasuring her in ways I could never hope to.”

Shit, no wonder there’re veritable flocks of Unnamed Poosquirt Administration Sources engaging in a rousing game of Pin the Blame on the Chief of Staff lately. Yeah, I guess things have gotten extra shitty with rat turd sprinkles on top since Mark took over from the last babysitter, but if any of you anonymous enablers imagine you’re escaping accountability, well, good luck navigating the circular firing squad to come.

Anyway, seems Marky Mark was the mastermind (and I use the term extremely lightly) behind the plot to stave off the flight of senior voters from the GOP with last-minute $200 bribes, remember that? Cleverly, he announced the payoff publicly before making sure he could actually deliver it, and, because he is an incompetent clown incapable of pouring himself a bowl of cereal without serious risk of hospitalization, it turns out he can’t make good. I wouldn’t worry about it, bro; people LOVE being lied to, especially about money.

Meadows is not exactly a wartime consigliere, y’know what I’m sayin’?

I mean, other members of Team Turdmaggot are at least making an effort, y’know? Michael Caputo didn’t let an extremely public breakdown stop him from developing plans to spend 250 million taxpayer dollars deploying “Santa Claus performers” as a vaccine-distributing army.

Good god, what toads are these blithering fuckwits licking? Hey, maybe before implementing your Ernst Stavro Blofeld scheme to weaponize mall Santas, why, for the love of God, WHY don’t you give masks, social distancing, and contact tracing a try? WHY ARE NONE OF THESE PEOPLE EVEN CONSIDERING THE SHIT THAT WORKS?

...follow-up question, why is anyone voting to re-elect this Clowncar Full of Pig Anuses, these anti-competent crotchwarts that have spent the year actively obstructing solutions that have worked everywhere else in the world? It’s a cult, I get that, but...as ol’ Handsome Joe would say, “C’mon, man...”

Well, maybe Rudy Giuliani can get a refund on that Make Your Own Comey Letter kit he ordered off a 2 a.m. informercial, cuz it looks like he won’t be delivering any October surprises this year, outside of Borat films, anyhow. A last minute attempt to launder his bullshit disinformation through the Wall Street Journal’s editorial page fell apart, because apparently there’s still a mirror or two remaining in even a Murdoch-owned newsroom.

But the closing argument isn’t just mass graves and foreign meddling, and Jared Kushner clearly wants the movement to return to its roots, as the primal, racist tantrum of the white and subpar. See, Kushner thinks Black Americans are just too lazy and ungrateful to appreciate all Hairplug Himmler has done for them. Subtle.

It’s obviously super-welcome, particularly here in the economy Kushner and his idiot manchild father-in-law destroyed, this lecture from a mewling dilettante who was born on third base and thinks he built the stadium by hand. Well, I suppose it’s the plebs’ own fault for not pulling themselves up by the bootstraps and using the official foreign policy of the United States government as collateral to bail out their dipshit family’s gargantuan real estate screwups. You’re the American dream in (semi) human form, Jar-Jar.

I see the NRCC is now openly embracing QAnon, funding Marjorie Taylor Greene’s campaign, despite her safe seat and lack of opponent, because hey, they liked it, so they put a ring on it. Those’re some rad priorities you’ve got there, Republicans; maybe you can hold the next RNC in Guyana.

And yes, Amy Coney Barrett, that nutty theocrat, has been confirmed to the Supreme Court, and I’m sure she can hardly wait to start rapping our heathen knuckles. Sure does suck. Doesn’t seem fair, cuz it’s not. I sure am grateful for the proximity of an opportunity to electorally punish this power-mad white supremacist death cult, aren’t you?

Having successfully completed his heist, like a jowlsy, decomposing Danny Ocean, Wrinkly Gamera gaveled the Senate into recess, with nary a concern for the millions of Americans suffering the consequences of his party’s disastrous failings. You didn’t think they’d pass a needed coronavirus relief bill, didja? Silly Rabbit, Republican power grabs are for plutocrats! The whole POINT is keeping the filthy masses in their place!

What a time to be alive. Fuck.

Anyway, this is the last time I’ll be begging y’all for money for a spell, because the Kickstarter for my second comic book, MINE, must end Thursday morning! Check out our info page, there’s a nifty little trailer and everything. And hey, thanks so much for your support and encouragement over the years; it’s dream I’d never have even chased without you folks. I owe ya. Truly. 


Just a heads up, I’ll be tweaking the blog schedule a bit, as I imagine everyone will have other shit on their plate next Tuesday evening. Tentatively, the plan is to do one final pre-election blog on Monday night, but we’ve all seen what 2020 does to plans.

One way or another, I’ll see y’all this coming Friday. Stay safe out there, Resisters! Also, VOTE! Kinda sucks that it’s tough to do both at once, but this is, after all, Hell. 

Goody Higgins is a Witch, and Other Tales of Republican Madness (Ferret/Shower Cap)

So, everything is, obviously, still largely insane, but, I dunno...it’s starting to feel like maybe we’re near the end of the detox scene in Trainspotting? Like, we got through the baby-on-the-ceiling part, and maybe we’re finally approaching a point when life will be more than incessant, hallucinatory awfulness all the time? That’d sure be swell.

(Catch this post, in living color, with nifty nooz links, here: http://showercapblog.com/goody-higgins-is-a-witch-and-other-tales-of-republican-madness/)

Hey, if you’ve been waiting until the last minute to pitch in, financially speaking, to the battle for the House and Senate, well, the last minute has arrived, my friend. Why not take a quick pass through Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide? I promise you’ll find a few candidates worthy of your support.


Treasonous Cousin-Fucker Rudy Giuliani’s life has descended into raw humiliation porn along the lines of Election or Meet the Parents, and I am not only enjoying it in real time, I have pre-ordered the multi-disc special edition DVD box set, featuring a commentary track by Rudy’s Russian handlers. Even fiction seldom delivers such satisfying comeuppance, but in real life? To a wealthy white Republican male? It’s almost too rich, too good, like fucking in giant fondue pot.

Anyway, staking your big October surprise on foreign disinformation distributed by a drooling fuckwit who merrily skips straight into a hotel bedroom with a giant, flashing neon sign on the wall that says HONEY TRAP? Yeah that was a home run, Sun Tzu. I mean, the Kremlin can’t be THAT much more sophisticated than a Sacha Baron Cohen film crew, right?

Y’know, I’ve been so focused on the Velveeta Vulgarian’s domestic failings (what with the quarter million dead folks n’ all) that I completely forgot about the way he’s turning my beloved homeland heel on the global stage. Yes, between Chief Thuglomat Pompeo’s zeal to join the world’s shittiest autocrats in some sort of League of Anti-Abortion Rights Jagoffs, and the push to mendaciously label human rights organizations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch as anti-Semitic, President Crotchvoid just keeps on transforming the United States of America into the sort of nation we’ve traditionally joined alliances against.

Word on the street is, Government Cheese Goebbels is looking to fire Christopher Wray, over the FBI director’s reluctance to produce a sequel to 2016’s “The Comey Letter,” that critically-reviled ode to misplaced self-righteousness that plunged the entire fucking planet into darkness and chaos. Good on ya, Chris.

In contrast, DNI John Ratcliffe emerged from his default position, attempting to suckle on Donald Trump’s butt acne, to dutifully spread his farthuffing fascist master’s latest desperate spin. In a pathetically transparent attempt to elbow former President Obama’s excellent campaign speech off the evening news, Yes-His-Name-Really-Is-Ratcliffe’s hastily-convened press conference attempted to cast a series of e-mails, allegedly from the Proud Boys, threatening Biden voters with physical violence, as a plot against Donnie Dotard because...reasons. You know the magic has gone out of a would-be dictatorship when the gaslighting gets this lazy.

I see Mitch McConnell’s body has begun visibly rotting away right in the middle of his career-capping anti-democratic power grab, in case anybody was considering cutting a deal with that Kentucky bog witch, thinking she could never hope to make good on her outlandish promises or ominous threats...I mean, Mitch looks like he spent the week performing colonoscopies on demons.   

Anyhoo, Wrinkly Gamera and his morally bankrupt caucus continue their slow-motion heist of RBG’s Supreme Court seat, merrily violating rules and norms when necessary, while gleefully delivering hectoring lectures on the Passion of Robert Bork when the absurd procedural calendar permits time for speechifyin’. All this political theatre is dull and irritating, I know I’m going to hate the ending, and honestly, I wish they’d just get on with it, because I need to pee*.

I see some shitty white boy losers had their loser terrorist plots against Smilin’ Joe and Kamala foiled, because all Trumpists are shit-brained failures, who, like their Ruptured Hemorrhoid Emperor, cannot do one single thing right. Let’s see, there’s the teenager with an AR-15 and child pornography, and the shitweasel in Maryland, did I miss anybody? Forgive me, all these mouth-breathing dumbasses look alike to me.

(Y’know, an underreported factor in the election is the sheer number of Cult45ers who won’t be able to make it to the polls on account of being imprisoned on felony charges.)

Turns out when you fuck around with Americans’ right to vote, they get really fucking angry. Also, they vote the very minute you let them. The early voting numbers are...holy crap, Resisters, I didn’t expect y’all to fuck around or anything, but you are NOT FUCKING AROUND out there. With eye-popping, historic numbers every single day, honestly, I don’t understand how Mark Meadows is smuggling all the overflowing diapers out of the Oval Office without drawing media scrutiny.

Still, grassroots MAGA hooligans are pitching in wherever they can, because the party that suppresses the vote together...um...shit. I seem to have backed myself into a corner here. Impresses the goat together? “Blesses the scrote together” certainly fits the house style, but it makes no damn sense, sooooooo...y’know what? Forget I started this paragraph.

THE POINT IS, from illegally surveilling voters in Philadelphia to armed goons playing poll watcher in Florida, the Taintfungus Campaign, understanding they don’t have a snowball’s chance in Jimmy Inhofe’s front pocket of winning fairly, will use every trick in their filthy, fascist book to keep us from exercising our rights.

To these thugs I say, “Lil’ man, you may as well take your toys and go home, we’ve been waiting four long years to do this, and it’s gonna take a helluva lot more than some dickless Call of Duty cosplayers to intimidate us.”

At the final debate, in a virtuosic display of rhetorical brilliance that prompted Zombie Seneca to rise from his grave to slow-clap in awe, the Marmalade Shartcannon successfully vanquished all talk of the raging coronavirus outbreak from the public discourse, replacing it with a bipartisan white hot rage that Hunter Biden, surely history’s greatest criminal, is free to walk the streets, committing God knows what additional atrocities, even as we speak.

...in his own mind, anyway. Here in reality, he mostly just lied and lied and lied, between bursts of genuinely batshit ranting laced with the indecipherable jargon of the wingnut media bubble.

We quickly came to understand why his “strategy” during the first debate was to screech like a marmot in a blender every time it was Old Handsome Joe’s turn to speak: he’s utterly, conclusively outclassed, and the side-by-side comparison of a compassionate elder statesman who knows the issues inside and out to a yelping slug, shitting noxious hatred from every orifice at once, didn’t exactly benefit the incumbent.

...but because Fat Q*bert never quite dry-humped the lectern, the unteachable media applauded his improved “tone” anyway. And Jesus wept.

Embattled Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, taking a page out of Gameshow Göring’s despot playbook, has fired or otherwise sidelined four of the seven whistleblowers who revealed his corruption to the public, and we really have to do something about this whole Criminals Get to Fire the People Investigating Them thing. I feel like we shoulda caught that one before it left the kitchen, honestly.

What else, what else...so, Clay Higgins is A) a United States Congressman, with the power to craft the laws the rest of us are compelled to follow, and B) completely, totally, chipmunk-who-got-into-the-meth-jar insane. Seems Clay’s wife had a little dream where “federal squads” took away all their precious bottled water and canned ravioli, and so he took to social media to bemoan the tragic loss of freedom...in his wife’s dream. Which he claims is a “premonition.”

And so, Clay Higgins, not, in fact, from a padded cell, but rather from his seat in the United States House of Representatives, laments the state of the fallen world of his MOTHERFUCKING WIFE’S SUBCONSCIOUS, demanding the rest of us share in his goofy paranoia because he is so ass-backward goddamn stupid that he believes he married an oracle.

Y’know, one of the unfortunate side effects of Democrats’ recent swing-district dominance is that the dwindling House GOP Caucus increasingly resembles an orgy at the Heritage Foundation after Gym Jordan and Louie Gohmert hijack a truckload of opioids.

I see Lou Dobbs is trying to get Lindsey Graham fired. This could be Lou's entire destiny, the misbegotten sack of shit. Like, maybe he's White Nationalist Gollum. 

Ok folks, I’ve only got a couple more chances to plug my new comic, MINE; the Kickstarter closes in five short days. If you dig SPACE POLITICS, you’re gonna love this book. I seriously do write these comics with you folks in mind, and I think we’ve got a lovely little space fable for the politically inclined here. Check it out.


Ok. That’s enough insanity to last you through the weekend. If you need a snack, why not try some videos of Shart Garfunkel mindlessly ranting while his rabid fans flash white nationalist hand signals? Some ”closing argument,” huh?

*Ideally right on Willard Romney’s hypocritical shoes. 

I Mean Yeah, If I Fucked Up This Bad, I'd Rather Talk About Hunter Biden, Too. (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Don’t get me wrong, the addition of hope and anticipation to the customary outrage n’ despair cocktail has been a largely positive development, but, well, I may be feeling just a wee bit overstimulated lately. Anyway, I’m sure fourteen days of time passing like those last minutes before you’re allowed to wake up your parents on Xmas morning will be a breeze to bear, and I will in no way gnaw my fingernails down to the wrist.

(Ya want this post with news links? Yer in luck: http://showercapblog.com/i-mean-yeah-if-i-fucked-up-this-bad-id-rather-talk-about-hunter-biden-too/)

Well, the Velveeta Vulgarian’s handlers have settled him into a comforting little schedule of safe-space rallies in the reddest swing state communities available; maybe it’s not the best strategy for reaching persuadable undecideds, but at least it keeps him from blurting gibbering nonsense like “LIBERALS WANT TO BLOW UP MOUNT RUSHMORE” on national television.

Anyway, Shart Garfunkel is lying more than ever, which is sort of revoltingly impressive in its own way, like the finals of the World Gravy Drinking Championship*. And of course he’s still attacking Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, in precisely the same ways that already inspired one white supremacist plot to kidnap and execute her, and while I’ve never been a fan of the so-called War on Terror, I confess I never thought I’d see the American President switch sides.

There’s lots of “rats fleeing a sinking ship” commentary these days, as vulnerable Republican Senators have suddenly realized this Trump fellow possesses an imperfection or two, but that’s not what’s going on here. We’re not talking about rats, this is the CREW OF THE SHIP, the very craven loyalists who put down the mutiny that might have saved us all, the ones who carried out Bloated Blundering Bligh’s orders as he steered the nation directly into an iceberg that turned out to be sixty tons of frozen, floating sewage, who’re trying to act as though the Turd Reich’s many crimes and failings just...I dunno, just happened while everybody was busy with the Sunday crossword.

John Cornyn wants us to know that despite all his public cowering and enabling, he was super-principled in private conversations that totally took place in real life, just ask his Canadian mistress. Oh, you’re useless in private as well? Guess that makes you a pretty shitty Senator, John-John; you should resign.

Trigger Warning: cyclopean horror on a cosmic scale. I...hesitate to even cover this. I know we’re battle-hardened after four years of non-stop atrocity, but maybe that means we’ve earned the right to look away now and then. No. We must gaze upon evil if we are to defeat it, and thus I call upon ye to screw your courage to the sticking place and gaze upon the abomination that is...Donald Trump dancing.

I see Mike Love’s fake Beach Boys played a fundraiser for the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus, to the chagrin of Brian Wilson and Al Jardine, aka the actual Beach Boys. I guess when your brand is Rock’s Biggest Asshole, you have to pull shit like this to stay relevant.

Still, in the Battle of the Boys, even with the Faux Beach taking the field alongside the Proud, you ain’t got shit, Dotard, cuz the motherfuckin’ BEASTIE BOYS, for the first time ever, licensed a song for use in a political ad, in support of Smilin’ Joe Biden. Huh, I’m in a coalition with Bill Kristol and Ad-Rock; shit’s been real weird lately.

By the way, did anybody call Love’s impostor crew the Bleach Boys yet? See, this is a white supremacist joke AND a he-told-us-to-drink-Clorox joke, so you’re really getting a bargain with this paragraph...obviously, things’re going really well in your political satire blog when you’re explaining your gags.

Well, President Ostomy Bag wants you to know he’s TIRED OF COVID. Not so tired that he’d use the awesome powers of his office to fight it, or even publicly model simple, effective behaviors, like mask-wearing and social distancing, which would save tens of thousands of lives, but tired of the way his botched pandemic (non-) response has kidney-punched his re-election hopes.

Yeah, we get it, you’re tired of Covid, because it’s a political anchor wrapped tightly around your hideous, molten-circus-peanut cankles. We’re sick of it too, of course, but more because it’s destroyed our jobs and closed our small businesses and, y’know, COST NEARLY A QUARTER OF A MILLION OF US OUR LIVES.

Still, the media are “dumb bastards” for covering the ongoing crisis that’s killed hundreds of Americans every single day for months, rather than, say, Hairplug Himmler’s pathetic fixation on the already-awarded Nobel Peace Prize, or the way he’s managed lately to smear that pulped yam make-up over almost his entire face, without the embarrassing trademark scalp line...almost.

Meanwhile, demonstrating the keen sense of strategy that has allowed Kim Jong-un to beclown him on the world stage for lo these many years, the Shart of the Deal has all but declared open war on America’s beloved, trusted, Dr. Anthony “If it weren’t for me he’d be pumping Lysol into the water supply” Fauci.

Because as awful as Eight Months of Chaos and Quarantine Born of Shit Leadership have been, voters are being told that the REAL problem isn’t the lethal virus the incumbent has failed to contain, or the ensuing economic carnage, but HUNTER BIDEN who...oh, man. He did all kindsa bad shit. He’s the Boogeyman wrapped in the Babadook dipped in warm liquid sin, and he’s gonna huff and puff and blow your Suburban Housewife American Dream down.

I’m not sure what Hunter is supposed to’ve done, honestly, though Senator Ron Johnson (R-Leningrad) certainly isn’t shy about playing the Hey Everybody You Already Hate is Also a Pedophile, What a Coincidence card, but then, he’s an idiot and a monster and a puppet. Yeah, yer mom must be proud, RoJo, her boy’s a multi-millionaire and STILL Putin’s lapdog.

Anyway, the whole bullshit story fell apart immediately, unsurprisingly, since it was apparently too blatantly shady for even such icons of journalistic integrity as Fux Nooz and the New York Post. Look, Rudy Giuliani did his best, okay? It’s just that all he had to work with was paste and uncooked macaroni, and to be fair, the instructions were in Russian.

The bad news is, the feral Republican base doesn’t need a story to make sense, and they won’t care about the fact-checking, all they want is a steady stream of reasons to hate whoever the Murdoch family wants them to hate.

On a 4-4 tie, the Supreme Court rejected the Pennsylvania GOP’s latest anti-democratic voter suppression attempt, but folks, Amy Coney Barrett is on her way, and soon there will be no more ties, only an extremist wingnut court, intent on using their stolen, illegitimate power to impose minority rule on a country that’s ready to leave Republican regressiveness behind. No jokes in this paragraph**, just a plea for you, Dear Reader, to get radical in a hurry about court expansion, about ending the filibuster, about statehood for D.C. and Puerto Rico. I love my party, I do, but they’re only going to take these drastic steps if we show them we have their backs.

You either enough make enough noise to change the world, or let ACB and her gang of theocrats whittle your rights away for decades.

In case you’re wondering why all the bald eagles are projectile vomiting and the Statue of Liberty is rotting away to nothingness before our very eyes, well, Redactor General William Barr has proclaimed that Gameshow Göring is acting in his “official capacity” as President when he battles the legion of sexual assault/harassment accusations against him, so we, the chump taxpayers, get to foot the bill for his legal defense.

I see we’ve got a fresh set of rules for the final presidential debate, including muted mics, and if I may be so bold, I’d like to propose that if others need to erect technological barriers in order to force you to behave like an adult for ninety minutes, leadership is not your calling.

And now I see Strawberry Shartcake is somehow incapable of navigating an hourlong conversation with 60 Minutes without throwing a very public tantrum and ok, look. This is a small story, but completely disqualifying. It’s not even the most disqualifying story in this blog post, and surely unworthy of cracking the Top 500 Reasons Donald Trump is Unfit for Human Interaction Let Alone Public Office, but it, by itself, should make every American, regardless of political affiliation, say, “holy crap, keep that unstable freak away from power!”

And yet.

Meanwhile, we learned the Turdmaggot Administration, in its zeal to terrorize migrants, has misplaced the parents of 545 children separated back in the heady days when John Kelly was too busy ripping families apart to leak “Oh, I knew that Donnie kid was trouble the moment he walked in” quotes.

Five hundred and forty-five children. This is why it’s okay, whenever you encounter some hectoring evangelical claiming to be “pro-life,” to just puke right on their shoes.

I see two stories of massive Trump corruption broke while I was writing tonight, but they’re probably too complex to land, thanks to the Republican strategy of overwhelming the public with unceasing bullshit propaganda. We’ll talk about Hunter Biden’s imaginary crimes, not Conman Don’s Chinese business ties. Not enjoying myself, here in Hell. Sorry, just being honest.

There’s still time to shoot some cash to our incredible team of Dem candidates n’ incumbents, which is why I made Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide! We’ve raised more than $30,000 so far...keep it comin’, Resisters!


Ok. Crunch time for my Kickstarter, friends. MINE is a nifty little space fable about leadership and limitations, it’s literally written with my political junkie audience in mind. You will dig it. And if you missed my first book, THE WORTH & THE COST, you can snag a copy of that one, too!


That’s all I got tonight folks. Back to watching the clock. If you haven’t voted yet, vote, you beautiful people, VOTE!

*I do not know if this is a real thing, nor do I wish to know.

**”There are jokes in the other paragraphs?” is an entirely worthy retort, but you’ll have to do better than that. 

In the Future, "Giuliani" Will Mean "A Public Breakdown During Which One Betrays One's Country"

After four years in Hell, I am pleased to report the bastards have, despite their best efforts, failed to grind me down. In fact, there’s a spring in my step today, because since we last met, Dear Reader, I’ve had the distinct pleasure of voting for Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr. and Kamala Devi Harris. It’s an intoxicating experience, full-bodied and refreshing, with hints of longed-for spiritual renewal and Nazis getting punched. I recommend it.

(Hey, you know by now to click here to get this shit with links n’ such: http://showercapblog.com/in-the-future-the-word-giuliani-will-mean-a-humiliating-public-breakdown-during-which-one-betrays-ones-country/)

I’m afraid we have to talk quite a bit about Rudy Giuliani tonight, as America’s least favorite incest aficionado chose this week to ride, perched atop a bronze horse purloined from a downed Confederate monument, to his Turd Emperor’s rescue, a shitty, treasonous, self-immolating, one-man jagoff cavalry.

“The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming,” bellowed Amerikkka’s Mayor, “I would know, I’m working for 'em! Anyway, here’s some long-ago debunked propaganda straight from the Kremlin!” and so, armed with some ridiculous story about an inebriated Hunter Biden abandoning a laptop overflowing with incriminating evidence with an...oh, let’s call him “eccentric” computer repairman, Rudy set out to make the world understand he’s not fucking around with this whole Betraying America thing.

Now, the intelligence community gets what’s going on here and they’re blowing every whistle in sight, not that it’s some big secret, you can see the crook of Putin’s elbow coming out of Rudy’s ass in every ranting media appearance, but Trenchmouth McCousinfucker’s problems hardly end there; he’s also posting videos of himself being hellaciously racist while his own daughter trashes his shitty politics in a Vanity Fair op-ed endorsing Biden.

Anyway, Rudy is one of the very worst Americans of all time, and if I ever seem to tire of watching him rub shit all over his own face in what has been a very public decline and fall, please understand that means my heart has stopped beating.

I don’t like writing about Barron Trump, but let me just say that a man who recklessly infects his own child with a potentially lethal disease for absolutely no good reason is not someone you would hire to run a goddamn Sunglass Hut, let alone a nation. Maybe a small one. Liechtenstein, you can have him for...I dunno, for ten bucks worth of whatever Liechtenstein makes. You have to take Eric, too, though. And Stephen Miller.

ANYWAY maybe this is the rare instance of Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet actually practicing what he preaches, because boy howdy, he sure does want you to catch COVID-19. Murderous dumbass is still, STILL pushing the just-shy-of-genocidal idea of herd immunity; I assume his eventual presidential library will be a pair of wire spinner racks in the middle of a mass grave.

I mean, look at the deteriorating fuck’s new favorite lie: that 85% of mask-wearers catch Covid. After catching and spreading it himself, precisely because he won’t let people wear masks around him. (You may need time to scream here. I did.) Donald Trump has worked harder and more effectively on behalf of the fucking coronavirus than he ever has for the American people. Mr. President, at long last, will you PLEASE STOP KILLING US?

Oh, and by the way, a newly unearthed memo reveals the Die Plebs Die Administration graciously gave the Wall Street elite the real truth about the pandemic while lying tens of thousands of us peasants into early graves, allowing the already-wealthy to profit off the very tragedy President Crotchrot refused to prevent. Populism sure is weird, huh?

I still don’t have anything to say about the Amy Coney Barrett hearings*. There is truly no more useless lump of empty ceremony than a SCOTUS confirmation...Senate Republicans pretend this theocrat loon isn’t going to do all the things she’s being specifically hired to do, imagining they’re fooling people. Well, quite a few of these out-of-touch, power-mad plutocrats are about to learn a very important lesson about ignoring the people’s will, and hey, maybe that can be a valuable experience they can bring to the jobs they’re going to be looking for come November 4th.

Bless his cowardly, enabling, little heart, Nebraska Senator Ben Sasse seems to think Trumpstink washes off. Yes, after four years of active participation in an anti-democracy crime spree, from the Kiddie Koncentration Kamps to his oath-betraying impeachment vote, young Benjamin seems to believe redemption is a mere shake of the Etch A Sketch away. I assure you, sir, it is not.

Let us be honest about what you have done, Republicans, and what you have allowed yourselves to become. Yes, I understand you don’t want to talk about it. We’re going to talk about it anyway.

Even Susan Collins, whose Rational Moderate mask is slipping off so fast I assume she’s run afoul of Scooby-Doo and Shaggy, is funneling campaign cash to the next generation of up-n-coming QAnon-addled Republican candidates.

Not to be outdone, Unelected Grifter Kelly Loeffler, under siege from both left and right, is clinging to her new BFF (that’s “Batshit Fucking Fanatic”), Marjorie Taylor Greene, an absolute psychopath set to bring her twin passions for conspiracy theories and unapologetic bigotry to the United States House of Representatives next January. As a member of the Grand Old Party.

YOUR party, Senator Romney. Even by whatever definition of “antifa” you clowns are using this week, this is not happening in our party. Shove this condescending “both sides” statement up your ass, next to the last one. For the love of God, Willard, just shut the fuck up.

That’s the future of the Republican Party, right there, in that mad embrace...Loeffler and Taylor Greene, hackery and hate. For a seat in the United States Senate. Heaven help us.

And heaven help the poor, deluded, “rational” Republicans, who think they can wrestle their party out of these slavering hyenas’ jaws. Like, when Larry Hogan gets in front of one of these mobs and tries this lame “Well, I voted for RONALD REAGAN” shtick, they’re going to tear him limb from limb.

Speaking of which, while we laugh at the bungling incompetence, it’s always chilling when Hairplug Himmler’s thirst for violence manifests at his little hate rallies, never more so than earlier this week, in North Carolina, when he boasted of ordering U.S. Marshals to carry out the extrajudicial killing of a suspect in Portland, and y’know, Joe already had me with his platform and resumé, but I also like the way he doesn’t view federal law enforcement as his own private death squad.

(Hey, I don’t know who still needs to hear this, but Cult45 wants this violence more than any perpetually-delayed health care plan. Just a lil’ pro tip.)

Well, thanks to the National Broadcasting Company’s insatiable appetite for abuse, America was treated to dueling town halls Thursday night. Strawberry Shartcake needed a miracle, instead he’s dealing with headlines like Sweaty Orangutan in Ill-Fitting Suit Refuses to Denounce QAnon, and whining about the meanie-pants moderator, because he is a braindead fuckup who cannot do one thing right.

In contrast, Joe Biden was calm, empathetic, wonky, and oh my god so refreshingly boring and normal. Shartworld surrogates sneeringly derided his performance as Mr.-Rogers-like, which is the sort of thing one expects to hear from board meetings at the Hall of Doom, not presidential campaigns. Generally speaking, one seeks to be the more Fred Rogersesque candidate in the race, and if you’re invoking that name derisively, you’re probably, y’know...evil.

Ol’ Handsome Joe seems to have won the ratings war too, and having failed at the one metric that matters most to you, Dotard, may I recommend ritual suicide? It doesn’t have to be ritual, honestly. I can mail you, like, a wrench, if it helps.

Because he is a petty, vindictive skidmark of a man who despises most Americans, President Gas Station Urinal Cake actually attempted to refuse the state of California’s request for emergency relief following a particularly devastating series of wildfires. If I can segue over to a lil’ civics lesson real quick, the Electoral College is this really awesome system where millions of American citizens can be abandoned to suffering and death by a petulant chief executive who seeks to punish them for supporting his opponent. Nice job, Founding Fathers!

Also, I see the President of the United States got duped by an obvious satire site today, but I’m sure he’s just killin’ it in those trade negotiations with China, right?

Oh look, Senator David Perdue is the latest Republican official to be Extremely Racist in Public, that’s entirely unsurprising, though his craven attempt to have it both ways is kinda funny, in a “look at the little weasel squirm” sort of way. Let’s fire this smarmy fuck, huh?

Christ, I’m tired. Forgive me if I missed anything, I need the weekend. Neeeeeeed. If you haven’t checked out the Kickstarter for my new comic book, that’s a thing you oughta do. You’ll dig it.


And there’s still time to donate to our awesome House and Senate candidates, in fact, the ol’ Fascist-Flushing Action Guide just rolled past the $30,000 mark, which fills me with the warmest of fuzzies. I thank you. Stay safe, Resisters, and get ready for the home stretch.


*Except that my first impulse is always to type Amy COMEY Barrett, on account of that one fella. You remember, the one who ruined the entire world? 

Plague, Voter Suppression, and Willard Romney's Thoughts on Tone (Ferret/Shower Cap)

October, 2020. I never thought it would actually come. Things are fairly insane, as we knew they’d be, but I admit I’m pleasantly surprised by the relative lack of signs which could be construed as compatible with the End Times mythology of any major world religion. Have I lowered my standards for what constitutes “good news” after four years of incessant fascist fuckery? Yes I have. Unapologetically.

(As always, with color n’ links: http://showercapblog.com/plague-voter-suppression-and-willard-romneys-thoughts-on-tone/)

Honestly, it’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately, with President Flea on a Plague Rat’s Anus cowering in his bunker, too ill to appear in public save for a single, steroid-fueled 18-minute balcony appearance on Saturday, attended by a humiliatingly tiny assemblage of nitwits literally paid to be there by spittle-spouting maniac Candace Owens, in spite of an invited guest list numbering in the thousands. Congratulations, Littlefinger, you’re officially in the REO Speedwagon Playing the South Dakota State Fair phase of your Rise and Fall of Dipshit Hitler story.

All recent attention-seeking stunts have failed, and backing out of the second debate in a fit of pique looks more and more like the biggest self-own since “turning the checkbook over to Brad Parscale.” Even a planned emergence from Walter Reed, initially feigning weakness before revealing a hidden Superman t-shirt, failed to materialize. Me, I’d have liked to’ve seen that. I imagine it would’ve been the Ark-of-the-Covenant-burns-the-swastika-off-the-crate scene in reverse.

Endorsements are understandably hard to come by when you’ve fucked up damn near every single thing that’s even remotely fuckupable. In fact, somewhere around the 200,000th preventable death, even traditionally non-political institutions like Scientific American start lining up behind your opponent. Yes, it’s lonely in Shartopia these days, outside of one lonely ol’ endorsement from...the Taliban. Yes, THAT Taliban. Hey, if you’re still undecided after all the disease and death and economic ruin, may I humbly suggest opposing the wishes of the motherfucking TALIBAN?

We all understand why Dr. Anthony Fauci is the most trusted and popular member of the current administration: he tells us the truth while everyone around him lies. This explains the insidious propaganda shell game the Turd Reich is currently attempting with America’s Handsomest Epidemiologist, seeking to benefit from that trust by using deceptively-edited footage of him in their campaign ads, while simultaneously blocking him from media appearances, lest that trademark honesty undercut Boss Turdmaggot’s “Covid, Schmovid” closing message. Pretty gross, but then, we are dealing with the very worst people alive.

The polling is getting brutal for the failed Republican Party, and with millions of dollars in grassroots donations flowing into as many as half a dozen unexpectedly competitive Senate races, conservatives are taking a long, hard look at where they went wrong, and what changes need to be made to win back the public’s trust JUST KIDDING they are, as always, doing everything in their power to suppress the right to vote, because white supremacy ain’t gonna de-institutionalize itself without a fight, my friends.

And so we’re seeing hours-long lines, but only in Dem-leaning precincts, especially those with high concentrations of non-white voters. The steady, regular reoccurrence of this zaniest of coincidences is difficult to explain, in light of John Roberts’ proclamation that the Voting Rights Act is no longer necessary on account of racism being over and all. Gosh, it sure would be a shame if the highest court in the land was in the business of spewing disingenuous bullshit in order to enshrine minority rule, wouldn’t it?

Meanwhile, California Republicans have taken to setting up their own completely unauthorized, most likely illegal ballot drop boxes, and Democrats are crying foul, but I ask you, what has the party that tried to sabotage the entire U.S Postal Service, seeking to keep Americans from voting safely during a pandemic, done to earn such distrust?

I confess I haven’t paid particularly close attention to the Amy Coney Barrett hearings; true crime has never been my favorite genre, and anyway, as a failed stage actor, I’ve consumed more than my share of self-righteous, masturbatory, political theatre.

Nothing screams “legitimacy” like the GODC’s (that’s “Grand Old Death Cult”) refusal to submit to coronavirus testing before these hearings, up to and including CDC guideline-violating Senators Mike Lee and Thom Tillis, who you’ll remember tested positive a short while ago, and may very well be spreading a lethal virus to their colleagues via their maskless rants. Or maybe horseshit, belched up in sufficient volume, kills Covid, who knows?

They refuse to take coronavirus tests because they know they’re likely to test positive, which would necessitate postponing the hearings until after the American people have voted to remove them from power, because they believe they have the right to inflict their disastrously failed ideology on the nation whether the nation wants it or not. They’ve crashed the economy twice in my lifetime, they’ve gotten nearly a quarter of a million Americans killed through their unforgivable pandemic mismanagement, they’ve stood silent while their party was taken over by an increasingly authoritarian, increasingly violent hate mob, and yet they truly believe they deserve this stolen 11th-hour veto over all potential progress for decades to come.

...but Democrats must observe “norms” going forward, right? Actually, how ‘bout a big fat sloppy NAH to that, campers? I honestly don’t think Yertle and his merry band of plutocrat puppets understand how four years of Trump, coupled with their own despised overreaching, have changed the electorate. During the Kavanaugh hearings, Lindsey Graham, with all the righteous indignation of a dime store Elmer Gantry, launched his famous “FUCK Christine Blasey Ford and FUCK her allegations, eat shit, we don’t care” jeremiad and somehow he still hasn’t made the connection to the mass exodus of women from his party.

Seriously, Lindsey has spent his current term almost exclusively doing things the American people have rather loudly stated they do not want him to do, and he’s somehow baffled that Jaime Harrison has raised enough money to rent Max Scherzer for a couple seasons. These clowns are so out of touch, it’s scary.

Meanwhile, Willard Romney chose this moment in time, when he is in the process of granting a lifetime SCOTUS appointment to the very shitweasel he recently voted to remove from office over high crimes and misdemeanors, to issue a whinging, pearl-clutching statement decrying the Incivility in Politics These Days, dripping with enough mendacious bothsidesism to drown Chuck Todd.

Y’know what, you feckless, dog-torturing haircut? Now that I’ve seen the words of YOUR party’s leader in the manifestos of multiple mass-murderers, you don’t get to claim Both Sides Are the Same Because Keith Olbermann anymore.

We will not be lectured by you anymore, thief. You have been exposed. You are transparent now. You are entirely without morals of any kind. We’ve seen your deeds, Mittens, you may as well save the words, they don’t fool anybody anymore. You and your craven colleagues are just a gang of power-mad theocrats looking to impose your will without the consent of the governed, through procedural chicanery, and yeah, that’s all you ever were, but soooooo many more folks’re paying attention now, and I don’t think you understand that yet.

Huh. I never imagined I’d post a blog this short this close to Election Day, but what can I do, Sultan Spraytan has been incapacitated. He did manage to accuse Joe Biden of murdering Seal Team Six, so, y’know...I appreciate the effort to maintain expected levels of cray-cray while bedridden and glued to the talking teevee box.

Anyway, the Kickstarter for my new comic book, MINE is up n’ running for another two weeks! Have I mentioned the special rewards tier for fans of this blog? For a reasonable fee, you’ll get not only a kickass comic, but a letter written to a politician of your choice, on an issue of your choice, in the Shower Cap Blog house style! Mitch McConnell was a popular target last time, and I certainly haven’t grown weary of swearing at him yet.


And don’t forget about the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide! We’ve raised nearly $30,000 for Dem House and Senate candidates so far, and I thank y’all for making a drunken loon in a luchador mask n’ bathrobe feel like he’s pulling his weight in this fight. There’s still time to pitch in!


...and there’s still time to drink tonight, for which I am really quite grateful. I don’t expect the quiet to last, Resisters, but I’ll enjoy it while I can. Rest up, we’ll be needed soon... 

This Week in Hell: Donald Trump, Lindsey Graham, and Other Diseased Rats (Ferret/Shower Cap)

God, we’re so close. We’ve known all along it would get worse at the end, as this human skidmark lashes out with all his might, backed by the terrifying power of the American Presidency. We knew it would suck, and HOLY BALLS IT SUCKS SO VERY, VERY HARD, but I think I got over the hump today. Just now, actually. I can see the finish line. I can make it through the home stretch. COME AT ME, NEWS, I can fuckin’ take ya, is what I’m saying.

(yadda yadda yadda link to blog with news links: http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-donald-trump-lindsey-graham-and-other-diseased-rats/)

So, let’s be honest. The President of the United States, already a stupid, craven, venal twerp, warped by hatred and debilitated by his own narcissism, has finally, from a combination of age, stress, illness, fear of prison, and the mingling of god knows what drugs prescribed at Walter Reed with whatever black market cocktail he’s gobbling out of the medicine cabinet back home, lost his motherfucking mind.

I mean, I got to the same place, sanity-wise, without the benefit of experimental medication, just by keeping up with all this garbage, but whatever.

Rod Rosenstein has been walking this ethical tightrope in the public eye for what feels like forever, and, uh, yeah, that was all for nothing, bro. Turns out Rowdy Roddy teamed up with his old boss, Jeff “Too Racist for the 80’s” Sessions, to orchestrate and implement one of the greatest evils of the Turd Reich, the child separation policy. All those self-righteous contortions, and you’re just one more monster among monsters in the end. This is your place in the history books, Rod. You earned it.

Redactor General William Barr quietly, insidiously rolled back long-standing Justice Department policies that prohibit prosecutors from interfering in elections, so if any enterprising young fascist feels like screaming HUNTER BIDEN KILLED CHRIST in a bid for a spot commanding a concentration camp of your very own in the new world to come, well, understand your dirtbag boss isn’t likely to get less desperate as the walls close in.

There’s no Comey letter in your quiver this time, Billy Boy. I’ve seen the inside of your quiver, you’re down to rat turds and one Oliver Queen-style boxing glove. You made your choices. You had your fun. The party’s over and the law is at the door. Sucks to be you.

In a skeevy moment of offhanded weaselry that perfectly captured the pure, unfettered, shitty rich kidness of the man, President Gas Station Urinal Cake actually tried to blame his coronavirus infection on a visiting group of Gold Star families, I guess because he was worried the electorate didn’t fully understand what a revolting little punk he is. A cursory look at the timeline reveals the transmission threat almost certainly flowed in the other direction; a perfect, maggot-gnawed maraschino cherry for this particular turd sundae.

Well, Mike Pants entered the Vice Presidential debate tasked with achieving what a billion wasted dollars couldn’t: making a case for the re-election of his homicidally incompetent administration that wouldn’t make the American people laugh derisively/roll their eyes/run him out of town on a rail. He left the subject of derision and memes after being upstaged by a fly that briefly considered taking up permanent residence in his demonic scalp, before ultimately flying away, unable to bear the stench.

I mean, Kamala was always gonna kick Mikey Hairshirt’s theocrat ass, but I confess I don’t understand why a campaign looking down the business end of a historic gender gap figured a droning old white dude talking over two women for 90 minutes would pull them out of the cartoon quicksand pit they’ve all but disappeared into.

Let’s explore the week’s events with a little cause n’ effect, shall we? Because Donald Trump was too stupid to take simple precautions, he caught COVID-19. Because he caught COVID-19, the Commission on Presidential Debates decided the second debate couldn’t be held in person, on account of the President’s COMMUNICABLE DISEASE. Because Typhoid Donnie is a blowhard and a coward, he backed out of that debate. Because this is not Joe Biden’s first rodeo, he said “Well, you enjoy yourself at home, Second Place, I’ll just do a prime time town hall without you.” And now Wee Don has lost access to one of the two largest remaining audiences available to his flailing campaign as the pages of calendar turn. Any questions?

Getting back to that futile billion for a minute, though the campaign coffers are now so bare that the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus has pulled ads from must-win swing states (though I imagine Shitty Evita’s checks still arrive on time), Gameshow Göring has discovered a brand-new source of funding: YOUR POCKET! Yes, the very same executive branch that STILL refuses to take the simple steps necessary to contain the coronavirus outbreak, like implementing a national testing strategy for example, is working overtime to get their pathetic $200 bribe for seniors out the door.

Now, who’s on the hook for this SEVEN BILLION DOLLAR donation to the Trump campaign? Why you and me, of course, the dumb cuck American taxpayer! Needless to say, this won’t work any better than that time he tried to sneak his shitty little signature onto the initial stimulus checks...a lousy $200 payoff for the entirety of 20frickin’20? That’s like a nickel per atrocity, fuck you.

They say life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans, and if you don’t believe me, just ask the members of the Trump-inspired white nationalist terror cell who currently find themselves behind bars rather than working out the finer points of their plot to kidnap and execute Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

Now, I acknowledge we live in times of unprecedented division, but surely we can still muster a grudging bipartisan handshake over a statement as non-controversial as “terrorism is bad,” right? It’s not like we’re some third-world shithole where increasingly violent religious sects openly fund child soldiers who murder their perceived political foes or anything, RIGHT?

Like, I don’t if you’ve been paying attention, but ever since Weehands McNodick took his Pokémon Go game to Lafayette Square and said, “I choose YOU, fascist crackdown!” things have changed, and he’s not hiding his despotic impulses anymore. So yeah, not only did he refuse to condemn these would-be murderers, he actually attacked Whitmer, going so far as to approvingly parrot the terrorists’ point of view. If anything, he’s pissed off that there’re thirteen fewer thugs available to “stand back and stand by” for his inevitable call to violence.

On the white-collar side of the white nationalist crime syndicate that is the Trump/McConnell Republican Party, fundraiser Elliott Broidy is America’s Next Top Felon, anyway, I believe we were having a discussion about who the “law and order” candidate is?

Now, I don’t think Mike Lee gets the same top-shelf shit his Turd Emperor has access to at Walter Reed, but let me just say that if the COVID-infected Utah Senator’s casual anti-Democratic musings are not, in fact, the result of ingesting hallucinogens, then he goes on the Never For One Second Take Your Eyes Off These Fascist Jags list with Tom Cotton and Josh Hawley.

The Shart House Covid outbreak has gotten so severe that Mitch McConnell said he’d rather obey the will of the American public than visit Donald Trump’s Plague Pit at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. It sure is fun that folks are afraid to set foot near the People’s House because doing so puts you at extremely high risk of a lonely, painful death. I mean, I dunno if anybody is still looking for blindingly obvious symbolism, but it’s here if you want it.

Though the Manchurian Manchild remained too ill to appear live on camera this week (Did you think we wouldn’t notice? We noticed.) his presence remained as oppressively inescapable as ever, as manifested by a never-ending deluge of batshit tweets and a series of deranged phone-in interviews with all of his favorite safe spaces: Fux, Hannity, Limbaugh...there’s neither time nor room to document all the raw lunacy that dropped, turd-like, from Fat Q*bert pinched sphincter mouth during these mad little chats, and I have too much respect for you to poison your mind with inane Chris Cillizza (but I repeat myself) listicles, but among other drooling nonsense, he seems intent on resurrecting his debunked “Obamagate” conspiracy theory, which won’t win him any votes, but hey, it’ll keep Ron Johnson busy.

Oh, and of course he isn’t shy about proclaiming himself Cured of Coronavirus and Functionally Immortal, Prolly, deceitfully promising to order the U.S. military to deliver his unproven, experimental, million-dollar miracle cure to the American people free of charge. The pestilential creep actually tried to get back on the campaign trail, promising rallies during what even the Ronny Jacksons and Sean Conleys of the world would admit is still within the What Part of “Extremely Contagious” is Giving You Trouble, Bro? period of his illness.   

Turmoil in Shartopia as President Crotchrot lashes out at the underlings who never quite managed to turn the USA into the police state of his dreams. Bilious Bill earned a special blast of Adderall-infused ire when he announced the findings of his bullshit investigation into the origins of the Russia probe will not, in fact, deliver the Wikileaks reunion tour Government Cheese Goebbels so desperately needs. Did you expect loyalty, William, for being such an enthusiastic henchmen? Bless your fascist heart.

Y’know, I was starting to get pretty confident, almost cocky, about our chances on November 3rd, but then I saw Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo announce he’s gettin’ ready to release a fresh trove of HILLARY’S E-MAILS, and hey, democracy had a good run, but they’ve outplayed us fair and square. It looked like it was gonna be a coronavirus election there for a minute, but how can nine months of entirely avoidable mayhem and suffering and death hope to compete with Hillary Clinton’s godforsaken e-mails?

Ummmm...what else? The Failing New York Times uncovered yet another massive Trump financial crime, and while that kinda stuff has trouble breaking through in these days of stochastic terrorism and steroid-fueled mental breakdowns, to me, this is just one more indicator that Strawberry Shartcake’s post-presidency will be spent in courtrooms and prison cells, watching his ill-gotten fortune get whittled away to nothing by lawsuit after lawsuit, until he dies, destitute and despised, with even Steve Bannon refusing to return his texts.

I see Lindsey Graham tried to back out of his debate with Jaime Harrison rather than take a coronavirus test, because while he has absolutely, 100% been exposed to contagious carriers, he would rather risk the lives of everyone around him than endanger his party’s shitbag ploy to steal one last Supreme Court seat before everybody gets (justly) fired. That thing about power corrupting? I dunno who came up with that, but I think they’re onto something.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. See that, you Nazi fucks? Four years you’ve been flooding the zone with a tidal wave of shit, hoping to wear us down. Well, we haven’t worn down, motherfuckers. We got through it. We got through the four years, we got through the Category 7 shitstorm of the last two weeks, and we’ll get through whatever you throw at us over the next 24 days. You’re finished.

Hey, there’s still time to check out the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide, where you can donate to our great House and Senate candidates. And yes, the Kickstarter for my next comic book, MINE, is up n’ running as well! I’ll promote ‘em both harder next week when I’m not so fucking exhausted. Stay safe out there, Resisters. 



Everything Still Sucks, But at Least the Worst People Alive Are Getting COVID (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Sometimes I see the kids on the internet say someone is “having a normal one” when actually that someone is behaving highly abnormally, usually in a Look at This Screeching Freak sort of way. So when I say “the news is having a normal one,” I actually mean quite the opposite; it’s a festive bit of contemporary slang, you see.

(Find this post, with news links and lord knows what else, here: http://showercapblog.com/everything-still-sucks-but-at-least-the-worst-people-alive-are-getting-covid/)

Well, that was one helluva weekend, waiting to see whether or not karma was really gonna take this Murderously Incompetent Fascist Idiot problem off our hands, wasn’t it? Probably the best thing about being Shower Cap right now is that I don’t have to pretend I’m not cheerleading for Hairplug Himmler’s demise. Folks, every single time a Nazi dies, it’s a good thing, because there’s one less Nazi in the world.

Team Treasonweasel went straight to work doing the one thing they do best: destroying their own credibility. The expected obfuscating press conference from Donnie Dotard’s doctors (and this Conley guy is a regular Sarah Slanders in a lab coat) provided a comforting facsimile of our regular White House gaslighting sessions, but the addition of a sweaty, panicked Mark Meadows, screaming OFF THE RECORD THE SKY IS FALLING was inspired.

Point is, whatever the fuck is going on with Old Man Poosquirt’s health, nobody trusts the government to be even marginally honest about it. Life under fascism sure is fun and relaxing!

One way or another, it seems he took a fistful (and a real fistful, by the way, not a tiny, inadequate, Trump fistful) of experimental drugs (none of which are hydroxychloroquine, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!) and needed supplemental oxygen plus somebody suggesting doing a brain transplant with an orangutan just to see if anybody’d notice.

Well, nobody wants Tangerine Idi Amin to make a speedy recovery and a safe return to the desk with the pardon forms in it more than Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, who has been accused by members of his own office of various acts of bribery, abuse of power, and other naughtiness-adjacent behaviors. I mention this in case you forgot, amidst all the shitty hospital drama, that the entire Republican Party, coast-to-coast, is hopelessly, irredeemably corrupt, and must be destroyed.

If they weren’t all shitbags working on behalf of a monster, I’d feel sorry for Sharty McFly’s surrogates, but they are, so I don’t. Still, it can’t be easy trying to spin “Absolute Dumbass Dumbasses Himself Into Hospital With COVID-19,” but attempting to deride Handsome Joe Biden over his comparative lack of “firsthand experience” was such perfect coloring book Orwell hooey I honestly had to applaud.

And whose heart wasn’t warmed by the return of that beloved old chestnut, President Crotchvoid Tries to Appear Busy By Signing Blank Sheets of Paper?

Anyhow, as a frothy stew of steroids and Adderall gurgled and boiled inside the Cadbury Creme Egg he calls a brain, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot suddenly decided the last remaining obstacle to American greatness was the overabundance of healthy Secret Service agents, and so he ordered several of the human beings who risk their lives for him daily into a hermetically sealed SUV with his contagious ass so he could take himself a little Sunday evening drive to say hi to what was frankly an embarrassingly small crowd for a hospitalized President.

I don’t believe Joe Biden has a tab on his issues page that specifically deals with How Much Human Suffering Are You Willing to Inflict for a Self-Aggrandizing Photo Opp, but, here as elsewhere, I trust him to be an upgrade over the incumbent.

Even though the entire fucking world has seen the housewarming party they threw for COVID-19, the Superspreader Administration is actually obstructing the CDC from conducting contact tracing, which is...pretty much murder, y’know? It’s a thing they could easily do, but while it would save lives, it would almost certainly lead to more embarrassing headlines for the Emperor of Hemorrhoids, and therefore, all those savable lives must be lost. Obscene.

And there’s no shortage of the embarrassing headlines anyway, as the Trump/Coney Barrett corona cannon keeps right on spreadin’ disease through the highest halls of power. Fat Q*bert’s body man has it. Kayleigh McEnany and her entire dang staff have it, and now even the Joint Chiefs are forced to quarantine because the leaders of the executive branch are too fucking stupid to follow instructions roughly equivalent to Do Not Operate Toaster in Bathtub. I can’t remember if Chris Christie had quite received the wages of his sycophancy when the last blog went up, but if I have to laugh at him twice, I’ll live.

Journalists got infected because of these assclowns. White House housekeepers. Where’s their helicopter to Walter Reed, you fucks?

Now, we won’t know for sure until the votes are counted, but the truth is, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster falling victim to a coronavirus outbreak of his own making in his own house likely puts re-election permanently beyond his reach, like giving up an 8th inning grand slam when you were already losing by 11 runs, which is what makes what happened next so unforgivable.

Because the deranged dolt seems to believe he’s stumbled upon the very miracle he needed to reverse his political woes! Call forth the make-up artists and the lighting crew! It’s time for another North Korea-style authoritarian show of strength! Why, this is even better, stronger, and biglier than clearing Lafayette Square with tear-gas-lobbing rent-a-Gestapo thugs!

And so he defiled Marine One yet again with his presence and his disease, returning to the Shart House, where he immediately removed his mask, a symbolic gesture he believed read as “Gaze upon me, I have conquered this dread contagion for I am mighty and nothing shall e’er overcome me,” while what America actually saw was more along the lines of “I am a sociopath who intends to keep deliberately spreading a lethal virus because human life means nothing to me.”

And just a quick pro tip, bro: forty seconds of labored wheezing while you struggle and fail to hide the existential terror in your eyes doesn’t project strength the way you think it does.

But yeah, the idea truly appears to be Well I Beat Covid ASTERISK With The Greatest Medical Care Available Anywhere on Earth ASTERISK ASTERISK Pay No Attention to Any Similarities to the Herman Cain Timeline THE POINT IS Only Pussies Die From This Thing I Was Right All Along and now he just lays back and waits for the electoral landslide to wash over him.

Politically, this is, of course, insane; the electorate’s reaction to Donnie Two-Scoops’ mendacious pandemic response has not been subtle. You told us it would go away, dude. You told us to INJECT BLEACH. Your ability the shape the public’s perception of this pandemic is non-existent outside of Tucker Carlson’s viewership.

This won’t earn him any votes. In fact, it’s likely to bury him further, as a covid-weary nation wails in frustrated rage, knowing he’s only emboldened his loser cultists to keep on spreading the goddamn virus, which must be wondering if it’s on some hidden camera show by now, such has been its unbelievable luck since finding its way into a nation “governed” by Donald John Trump.

I mean, I wouldn’t have imagined it was possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own two weary eyes, but the demented motherfucker managed to turn a HOSPITAL STAY into a platform to spread disinformation that will lead to even more suffering and death. I will never again doubt that there will always be new depths of evil to discover within this man.

But he really believes all of this will be perceived as “strength,” that a terrified America will simply have no choice in the end but to rush to him, and cling, childlike, to the legs of his ridiculous balloon pants. One of Donald Trump’s biggest political liabilities is that he believes everyone else is as emotionally broken as he is.

In the background, wingnut SCOTUS loons Clarence Thomas and Sanctimonious Sam Alito sent a little note to their illegitimate would-be colleague, Amy Coney Barrett, via a comment on a case relating to Celebrity Bigot Deadbeat Kim Davis, just a quick little “wish you were here so we could roll back LGBTQ rights together!” and a reminder that a shitty theocrat minority really really really really really wants to drag America back to 1950’s.

Look, I know I haven’t been peer-reviewed or anything, but my studies show that whatever non-approved drug cocktail they’re sprinkling on the president’s breakfast cereal doesn’t mingle with chronic narcissism in a manner that enhances leadership capabilities, as demonstrated by the Manchurian Manchild’s surprise midday tantrum, unilaterally ending coronavirus stimulus negotiations.

So, less than a month from Election Day, trailing by seemingly more and more in each new poll, Shart Garfunkel’s brilliant new strategy is to sign his name as largely as possible on a billboard that says FUCK OFF AND DIE, AMERICA! He says he won’t negotiate until after the election; like...I think he thinks what he’s accomplishing is blackmail, rather than self-sabotage. “I won’t let Democrats alleviate any of the suffering I’ve caused” is...well, as a closing argument, it’s novel, I’ll grant that much.

It’s impressive. I didn’t actually think there were, at this late date, any new positions available to be taken that would be so blockheadedly self-destructive but, as Ian Malcolm said, “stupid, uh, finds a way.”

...you were better off with the blank sheets of paper, kid.

Ok, friends, we’re in the home stretch now. If you’ve got a little spare change, I can help you spend it. Use the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide to donate to the Dems fighting to hold the House and Flip the Senate! And check out my second ever comic book, MINE, now live on Kickstarter!



Me, I’m about to have one of those nights where I drink the last can/bottle from every almost-finished six-pack in the fridge, so I figure this is probably my best shot at getting super powers. I could sure use ‘em. Stay safe out there, Resisters...

...wait, what’s this? Sneering Hatemarmot Stephen Miller has contracted the coronavirus as well? Well golly, I could go through my sofa cushions, lookin’ for any unspent thoughts and prayers, but I think I’ll just laugh till my throat bleeds instead. 

This Week in Hell: Kinda Quiet. Might Rain. I Hear Something Happened to That Trump Boy (Ferret/SC)

Like all of you, I’ve come to expect the worst of 2020, but I really thought Rick Moranis was understood to be off-limits. I’m gonna guess you don’t need me to tell you shit has been restaurant-quality cray this week, so let’s wade through this stuff so we can all get back to wailing mournfully into the empty night air.

(Hey hey. Want this post in living color, with nifty news links? http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-kinda-quiet-might-rain-i-hear-something-happened-to-that-trump-boy-with-the-odd-haircut/)

Feels like a million years ago, but yet another peek behind the curtains of Shartopia revealed the Candycorn Skidmark’s contempt for the religious conservatives who make up his base, aka The One Fading Hope He Has of Staying Out of Prison. That any human being can still believe this sociopath will ever demonstrate the slightest bit of loyalty makes me think our position atop the food chain isn’t as secure as we’d maybe like.

Director of National Intelligence/Fashy Flunky John Ratcliffe declassified and released a lil’ bit o’ anti-Hillary horsecrap widely understood to be Russian propaganda, and I’m old enough to remember when the intelligence community thought its job was to stop foreign attacks rather than aid them.

What I hope everyone takes from this latest bit of weaselly malevolence from a cabinet-level official is that these second- and third-generation Trump Admin appointees are not Mattis-like grown-ups looking to restrain Tangerine Idi Amin’s more destructive or dictatorial influences, but clear-eyed collaborators eager to impose his will, and heaven help American democracy if they’re given four more years to achieve their nefarious goals.

I see Brad Parscale’s dirtbag life has plunged into the spiral of scandal and comeuppance familiar to so many prominent Trumpworld figures, amidst rumors of federal investigations and physical abuse. Y’know what else, Bradkins? I’ve got a feeling that stack of presidential pardons is goin’ back in the drawer come January, so, y’know...sucks to be you.

I’m currently filing litigation against my cable provider, because when I tuned in to watch what had been advertised as the first presidential debate of the general election, the only thing my signal picked up was a bloated howler monkey flinging his own shit at the wall for 90 minutes.

I guess the “strategy” was, “If nobody can hear anything Joe Biden says, he can’t hold me accountable for my bowl-of-turds-crawling-with-maggots record,” and so Fat Q*Bert belched forth a seemingly endless cascade of non-stop vileness that was honestly shocking, even after all these years of watching him behave abominably. It was 90 minutes of pouring boiling hot poison directly into your brain, and if you missed it, holy fuck I am jealous.

If you had choose just one lowlight, I suppose it’s tough to top the Velveeta Vulgarian’s revolting attempt to taunt Joe over his son Hunter’s struggle with addiction. Glass houses notwithstanding, this was ultimately just another dipshit primate dominance display that blew up in his face, because he truly does believe voters will be impressed, even awed, by these playground bully tactics. He thinks he’s projecting “strength,” and actually these delusions about his own efficacy are a huge part of why his presidency has been such a catastrophic failure.

Still, the big headline out of the debate was of course the moment when the incumbent President of the United States issued orders to a fascist street gang, live on television. Asked to condemn white supremacist violence, Gameshow Göring instead told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by,” because look, voters in minority neighborhoods aren’t gonna harass and intimidate themselves, okay?

New intelligence reveals that North Korea merrily accepted Donnie Dotard’s every gluteal smooch, but never stopped expanding their nuclear capacity behind his back, because that’s just how you do things when such an eager rube wanders, wide-eyed, into your den.

The Trump/North Korea story is perhaps best understood by imagining Kim Jong-un perched atop Weehands McNodick’s perpetually-slouched shoulders, dangling a fake Nobel Prize made of cardboard and Scotch tape from a fishing pole ever-so-slightly out of the reach of those tiny, inadequate, little mitts, steering him around the room, making him run into walls, cackling all the while.

Texas Governor Greg Abbott decided that things would be a lot easier on his proto-fascist party if it were nearly impossible to vote safely during the pandemic he’s mismanaged so murderously, and so he decided that every county in the state, including Harris County with its 1,777 square miles and 4.7 million residents, should get one and only one drop off box for ballots, a deliberately disenfranchising maneuver so anti-American, one expects Abbott to develop a sudden, severe allergy to apple pie.

In hardly the week’s only tale of inevitable, overdue comeuppance, Jacob Wohl and his doofus ratfucking comrade, Jack Burkman, finally dumbassed their way into felony charges, over a robocall voter suppression scheme in Michigan. Jacob’ll do well in prison, I think.

After her What if Evita Swallowed Six Pounds of Crack and Recited Mein Kampf tirade at the RNC you probably wondered, “the fuck is wrong with this Guilfoyle broad?” and now you’re sorry you asked, aren’t you? Because we found out, and woooooo boy, Kimberly turns out to be such a deeply fucked up, grotesquely abusive little freak the universe truly had little choice but to steer her into the orbit of the Turd Family Robinshart.

Good lord. Tennessee Williams and Ingmar Bergman are standing up in the audience shouting ENOUGH WITH THIS FUCKING FAMILY ALREADY.

But my apologies, Ingmar, this Klan is nowhere near finished belching up bile all over America’s lap, not until Queen Melania gets her chance to rant and whine about the widely loathed institution known as (checks notes)...Xmas. Yes, secretly-recorded audio captures the First Lady lobbing turds at kids in cages and even shitting on Jolly Old St. Nick himself, and I know this betrayal must be difficult for all the keyboard warriors huddled in their War on Xmas trenches, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m really enjoying myself laughing at you.

Welp, Hairplug Himmler finally went and got himself infected with COVID-19, after weeks of engaging in behaviors widely understood to spread COVID-19, who could have seen this coming except everybody? Somehow millions of Americans are still planning on voting for this dolt, despite watching him stick his finger in an electrical outlet, over and over again, and then, upon receiving multiple extreme shocks, deciding, “I should probably try fucking it.”

Hope Hicks was apparently the first to test positive, and naturally these crooked bastards’ initial instinct was to conceal this information from the public and continue campaigning as usual, under the exact same coronariffic conditions as before, until some pesky reporter at Bloomberg screwed up the plan, and, in doing so, probably saved some folks’ lives.

Even after learning of Hicks’ infection, Team Treasonweasel STILL traveled to a fundraiser at his eyesore golf club in New Jersey, quite likely spreading the disease amongst the financiers of his attempted fascist takeover of the United States, in what Lady Justice is calling “the most righteous shit I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Yes, Donald Trump is now seeking re-election on a platform of I Turned My Own Fucking House Into a Coronavirus Hot Spot, and I’m no Nate Silver, but I don’t see that shit working out. Melania has it, Senator Mike Lee has it, the President of Notre Dame, who attended Amy Coney Barrett’s Rose Garden nomination ceremony with Lee and the Trumps has it, and armchair contact tracing leads one to believe they are unlikely to be the last of the conservative political elite to become intimately acquainted with the disease they’ve allowed to ravage our country. Oh yeah, and three journalists have tested positive as well, collateral damage to this reckless idiocy.

HEY LOOK while I was writing, North Carolina Senator Thom Tillis also tested positive, and yes, he was at the Coney Barrett event. So this woman allows a party thrown in her honor to be held in conditions which openly defied public health guidelines, causing an outbreak of a deadly disease that reached the very Oval Office, and we’re supposed to let her exercise judgment over the rest of us for the rest of her life? Are you fucking insane?

To every Republican who has tested positive or is worried they’re about to, boy howdy, you can eat a Hefty Cinch Sak full of carmelized dicks. You weren’t wearing a mask when you came into contact with these superspreaders? Why the fuck not? You shook their hands, hugged them, even? Why? Why the fuck would you do something that stupid? You’ve been told, clearly and repeatedly what you have to do to protect yourself from this virus. Nothing difficult, just hand washing, social distancing, and a mask. It’s not like you’ve been called upon to do anything really challenging, like identifying a drawing of a horsey, or remembering five words for ten minutes.

Even after recklessly plunging the nation into a national security crisis, Republicans are still frantic to push their SCOTUS heist through before the long arm of the popular will removes them from power in one short month. To Mitch McConnell’s skittish colleagues I say hey, he’s clearly been willing to sacrifice everything that’s good and decent about the United States on the alter of his own power, did you imagine he’d give a single solitary fuck about any of your lives?

And of course the Shart House STILL won’t model responsible behaviors, trotting out the likes of Mark Meadows and Propaganda Ministress Kaleigh McEnany, dead-eyed and maskless, to spin and spin, as though anyone anywhere believes a single word that drops out of their lying mouths. (Update: finally, after possibly getting SCROTUS killed, these dumbfucks are wearing masks. Slow clap.)

Yeah, Kayleigh kept assuring us President Crotchrot was happily doing jumping jacks while discussing The Aeneid with the Pope, in Latin, even as we heard conflicting stories about potential symptoms, and about experimental treatments. It all feels like the grand climax of an epic opera based, for whatever reason, on the Boy Who Cried Wolf. As we watched the President get whisked away to Walter Reed for an extended hospitalization, we realized we hadn’t heard one shred of information from anyone we could trust. I asked my Magic 8-Ball if this was any way to run a railroad, and it told me to go fuck myself.

...and wouldja believe, the Wisconsin state GOP, admittedly one of the looniest, angriest Republican sub-cults in the country, is actually suing to overturn the Democrat governor’s mask mandate? Thinking about it, I guess that’s the inevitable result, when you’re already used to trying to impose your own personal morality on others, and then you become a death cult.

Well, if you would like to be governed by smart, sensible people, who are not in a death cult, may I suggest you browse the options in the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide? The Flip the Senate page is super popular these days, which makes sense, but don’t forget about the House majority, which needs both protecting and expanding.


And I hope you don’t find it tacky of me to advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital, because this is the point in the blog when I advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital. Just a few more days in the Early Bird period, so if you want your name in our Special Thanks section, pledge now!


Fucking hell. That’s enough. Me drink lots now. FUCK. 
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