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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 07:48 PM
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Old Bastard Probably Shits His Way Through $750 Worth of Taxpayer-Funded Diapers Every Week (Ferret)

When I am old, I will sit on a rocking chair on my porch and children will periodically approach to ask Old Man Cap what it was like, living through the death throes of Donald Trump’s attempted fascist coup, and I will chase those little bastards away with my cane for triggering memories of this madness. It was cray-cray, youngsters. Shit was cray beyond your wildest conception of what that doubtlessly-outdated term implies. OFF MY LAWN WITH YE.

(As ever, get this post, with links, here: http://showercapblog.com/old-bastard-probably-shits-his-way-through-750-worth-of-taxpayer-funded-diapers-every-week/)

So, you may have noticed, or had your entire life derailed by, or perhaps even died frightened and alone from the coronavirus pandemic. No, your federal government is somehow still not doing a great deal to halt the spread of the disease that’s claimed 209,000 American lives, but it is diligently battling the notion that COVID-19 is anything to worry about.

Maniacal Trumpist hacks installed atop the CDC apparently commandeered $300 million for a doomed, deranged effort to make television ads where Dennis Quaid somehow lulls a weary America into believing Larry Kudlow was right all along? I don’t get it either. At this point, it’s just insane children, hopped up on Orange Crush and Wonka Fun Dip, looting the Treasury.

Of course, the governing party isn’t JUST neglecting its duty to protect its citizens from a deadly virus, it’s also refusing to lift a finger to help the millions of Americans who were just standing around, minding their own fucking business, when y’all decided to crash the economy, get a quarter of a million of us killed, and experiment with open fascism, just to spice up the death and despair, I guess.

What I’m saying is, Mitch McConnell’s hopelessly corrupt Senate Republican caucus will not be shaken from their path to damnation. Never in our history* has such a crucial group of elected officials failed in their responsibilities so repeatedly and so cravenly, and never have their failures cost so many so much. Never forget any of their names, and never stop holding them up as examples of the rot that erupts when power collides with cowardice.

Christ, I’m ranting. Point is, Wrinkly Gamera still won’t take up legislation that would deliver much-needed relief from the suffering he is largely to blame for, because he’d much rather spend his time on his favorite hobby: orchestrating heists of Supreme Court seats. And hey, you’re good at it, Mitch. Congratulations. Look what it cost.

Seriously, look at these hopelessly broken men and women, from McConnell to Rubio to Collins to that kid with the lousy beard, what’s his name, spends his days sucking on the butthole of the guy who insulted his wife, ANYWAY, look at them, toasting themselves in the middle of the cemetery, the graves they’ve dug stretching beyond the horizon in every direction, celebrating this extra bit of power they’ve purloined for themselves.

Power to what? To kill still more of us? This party is so insane and useless and rotten, you understand why they have to cheat with every tool at their disposal to dodge the will of the people.

Of course I understand they’re salivating to install their little maniac theocrat before the American people have a chance to punish them for their authoritarian power grab amidst their catastrophic failings, but I admit it’s still amusing to watch them, howling with all the sincerity of a high school kid singing Les Miz, as they rail against imaginary Democrats over their immense, imaginary hatred of Catholics.

Meanwhile, the Democratic Party’s nominee for President attends a Catholic church every Sunday while Hairplug Himmler spreads hate and golfs. Because Republicans don’t even know how to deal with the truth anymore. Y’all can’t hide in this alternate reality forever. This path your party is on, it ends in either electoral defeat or Kristallnacht, you understand that, right?

I’m on a really exciting new diet where I draw sustenance exclusively from videos of Lindsey Graham begging MAGA Nation for money like an unusually whiny Dickens orphan. Sorry Linds, your master already bled the whole damn cult dry to pay his legal bills, and after blowing a cool billion with nothing to show for it but a series of tasteful shots of Joe Biden’s septuagenarian ass, you’re own your own, son.

Today on Shitty Orwell Theatre, I see Tangerine Idi Amin has taken to branding his superspreader Klan rallies as “peaceful protests.” I mean, it’s not even good trolling, but frankly, I’m completely willing to throw a faux tantrum or two to keep these assclowns locked into a strategy of Deliberately Spreading a Lethal Disease Amongst Our Most Fervent Supporters in Crucial Swing States to Own th’Libs.

Please! Stop! O I am slain!

Welp, the Failing New York Times finally got ahold of Shart Garfunkel’s tax returns, and I have to admit, for a doddering old nitwit with a Wile E. Coyote-like instinct for self-destruction, all the years of effort invested into suppressing this multi-spouted shit fountain were well-spent. Holy balls.

The slobbering jackass calls himself the “King of Debt,” but bro, if something has your nuts in a vice, one thing you are decidedly not is the King of it. Years of recklessness and ineptitude have left him with hundreds of millions personally owed and set to come due within a few short years, even as his core businesses flounder and fail, just like EVERY SINGLE THING HE FUCKING TOUCHES.

Minutes after the NYT bombshell dropped, every national security pundit in the country quietly raised their hand to remind us that under normal circumstances, no one with a fraction of this debt would be allowed anywhere near classified intelligence, or indeed any part of the national security apparatus, on account of how OBVIOUSLY FUCKING BLACKMAILABLE they are.

I mean, how many times over the last day or so have you seen a nervous expert describe Strawberry Shartcake’s financial exposure as a “threat to national security?” And how many times have you shouted, “OH, YA THINK?” at the TV screen?

Folks, we all remember Jared Kushner swapping government policy and/or state secrets for that $1.8 billion bailout from his dumbfuck family’s suicidally stupid real estate blundering, and we’ve watched his taintfungus father-in-law blissfully golf the year away as 200,000 Americans lost their lives to his malignant mismanagement, of course these crooks will continue placing their personal financial concerns above your life. OF COURSE THEY WILL. If he could get away with it, Donald Trump would sell every bit of equipment under the Pentagon’s control, down to the paper clips and Post-it notes, to Putin, just to get out from under that debt. Don’t doubt it for a moment.

In the end, he’s never been anything but a drooling idiot burning through Daddy’s money, just the cheapest imaginable grifter, with a skill set barely suited to selling fake designer handbags on street corners until the fuzz shows up...and we made him the PRESIDENT.

Not since the world learned of Mitt Romney’s sneering disdain for the 47% has a number penetrated the public consciousness as quickly and thoroughly as the Marmalade Shartcannon’s already-infamous $750. After all the unpaid bills and outright fraud and Republican-designed loopholes for the wealthy, the Velveeta Vulgarian’s contribution to the nation’s coffers in two separate years amounted to a just-rubbing-our-serf-noses-in-it seven hundred and fifty dollars.

$750. It’s somehow infinitely more infuriating than the many years when he used a combination of personal incompetence and contortionist accounting to avoid paying any taxes at all (remember how we laughed when we learned the dolt lost more money than anyone else in America?), because it reminds us that even before submitting to a hostile takeover by a Nazi game show host, the whole dang GOP ultimately amounted to little more than a glorified accounting firm for the billionaire class.

It reminds us that Toupee Fiasco’s lone legislative accomplishment of any significance was a wildly unpopular bill that cut his own taxes even further, I guess cuz that seven-fiddy came out of the vital fund set aside to replace plate glass windows Junior n’ Eric walk through.

Run on that, you fucks. Run on $750 and 200,000 mostly preventable deaths. Face the electorate with that record. And brace yourselves for what comes next.

...y’know, the last time Joe Biden was on a presidential ticket, that 47% shit put the Republican down for the count, and that guy could pronounce Thailand. And he never raped anybody. Or got even ONE hundred thousand people killed

I see Ratfucker Prince Brad Parscale has been “involuntarily hospitalized” following a domestic violence incident which allegedly involved a loaded handgun and left his wife’s arms covered in bruises. Another reminder that the vow to “drain the swamp” and hire “the best people” was just one more maggot-chewed shit sandwich that you always had to be mighty fucking stupid to take a bite of, let alone swallow.

Ok, so tomorrow brings the long-awaited meeting of Handsome Joe Biden’s boot and lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops' ass. Less historic, but equally entertaining, September 29th also brings the launch of the Kickstarter for MY SECOND COMIC BOOK, a nifty little space fable called MINE. Y’all were very kind in helping me launch my first comic earlier in the year, and I think you’ll enjoy this one.

There’s a special reward on the Kickstarter for fans of this blog, by the way. For backers at higher tiers, I will compose a personalized letter to a politician of your choosing on an issue of your choosing, in the style of this here juvenile poo joke blog. These letters were a big hit on the first Kickstarter, so we’re bringing ‘em back!


And once again, Early Bird pledgers will get their names in a special thank you section of the comic itself! One week only!

And don’t forget about the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide! The House side is growing, welcoming Montana’s Kathleen Williams, who you may remember from the midterms. Obviously, the link to Flip the Dang Senate has been, heh, popular.


Ok...rest up, Resisters. We’re about to hit the home stretch, and I imagine shit’s gonna get real weird. Hunker down with beer n’ cake n’ comics or whatever it is that recharges ya, we’re gonna need everybody at their best.

*I know fuckall about history. If I’m wrong, (and I probably am), I’m wrong. Keep it to yourself.

This Week in Hell: Idiot White Men and the World They're Ruining (Ferret/Shower Cap)

It’s weird to be so confined, so solitary and stationary, while this mad age whizzes by on the screens of our little devices. It’s like being trapped, barefoot, on a treadmill made of sewage and broken glass that we can never, ever, ever, ever shut off. Yup yup, havin’ the time of my dang life over here. Anybody up for the news?

(As ever, get this post, with fun n’ information news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-idiot-white-men-and-the-world-theyre-ruining/)

Obviously, Vlad Putin has a lot to be happy about when he surveys his modest investments in the Tearing America Apart From the Inside Out industry; the President has, beyond the occasional verbal stumble, proven an exemplary employee. However, it must be noted the Biden/Burisma division has been underperforming during a crucial period, which, honestly, you pretty much have to expect when you leave a walking thumb like Ron Johnson in charge of any task that requires the use of a human brain.

Like a child forcing his parents to sit through a magic show in the back yard, Johnson unveiled the results of his silly little ratfucking “investigation,” and the only October surprise here is that RoJo somehow still believes his feeble intellect is capable of any deception more sophisticated than Got Your Nose.

Speaking of distressingly powerful white mediocrities who’ve mistaken themselves for geniuses, I see Rand Paul is in the news again. Feeling extra pleased with himself, Senator Paul took aim at Dr. Anthony Fauci, unleashing a volley of horseshit that ultimately landed like a cartoon anvil right on Rand’s own smug little meat head, en route to his groin, because Doctor Tony was not in any sort of fool-tolerating mood. And while it’s always welcome amusement whenever such a raging jagoff crashes and burns so spectacularly, let’s not lose sight of the fact that this was a United States Senator using his platform to spread dangerous, anti-scientific misinformation during a public health crisis.

BREAKING NEWS: Donald Trump is racist, GASP FAINT! New reporting from the Washington Post delivers a veritable Pepperidge Farm gift basket of anti-Black, anti-Semitic, and anti-Hispanic statements and actions from the Grifter Grand Wizard. The article is awful to read, of course, but it’s as likely to hearten a Cult45er as disgust a Democrat; that’s the conversation we’re really having right now...isn’t it, America?

Well well well, I see Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot refuses to commit to continuing the USA’s greatest, most important tradition: Prime Day. Wait, that’s not right, I meant to say, “the peaceful transition of power.”

Even the oozing plague rat scrotum Donnie Dotard calls his brain is capable of processing the odds of a world-renowned Botcher of Pandemic Responses, Crasher of Economies, and General Fucker-Up of More or Less Everything prevailing in a free and fair election, and thus the incumbent President of the United States has decided to end for all time, violently if necessary, American democracy.*

If he can.

I certainly understand his anxiety. The gutless creep can’t stick a toe outside his wingnut safe space without meeting thunderous VOTE HIM OUT chants (and fleeing them like a coward, naturally). Aw, not as much fun as leading a seething wad of maskless yokels in a rousing round of LOCK HER UP while COVID-19 frolics through the crowd, is it, Fuckface?

But yeah, sure was a fun week, wasn’t it? Sussing out the fascist dolt’s powers and options? Trying to figure out which gates are still guarded by decent American patriots, and which have already fallen to stooges and brownshirts? And you breathe a little easier when you hear the military push back on the idea of being deployed against the public by a cornered Nazi rat, yes, but oh, how you long for the days when you never imagined you’d lose of wink of sleep over such things.

Lizard-Eyed Medicare Fraudster Rick Scott casually proposed an insidious new law that would, in what I’m sure is just a wacky coincidence, disproportionately disenfranchise Democratic voters, by requiring any ballots not counted within 24 hours to be shat upon and burned, and I must say, the increasingly authoritarian Republican Party is gettin’ sorta brazen lately in their thirst to remove American citizens’ rights. How do they imagine this will go for them?

Because there’s been quite a lot of Senate Republican malfeasance in the news this week, and while one must grudgingly acknowledge Mitch McConnell’s virtuosic mastery of procedural fuckery, he and his team of plutocrat assclowns are about to learn they’ve made some erroneous assumptions about the sustainability of a system where a handful of wealthy white idiots reward themselves for losing control of a pandemic, resulting in economic carnage and hundreds of thousands of deaths, by stealing the rights of the very constituents they’ve failed so unforgivably. You’re gonna get torches and pitchforks on your lawns, my dudes. Fair warning.

Desperate to halt the mass migration of elderly voters into Handsome Joe Biden’s lovin’ arms, Strawberry Shartcake figured he’d try an insultingly minuscule, probably illegal bribe. Lord.

“Hi, I’m so cataclysmically fucking awful at my job that you’ve been trapped inside your homes for seven fucking months, with no respite in sight; I’ve stolen precious time from the golden years you worked your entire life to earn, and not only do I golf every goddamn week rather than working to alleviate your suffering, at my rallies, me n’ my loser rage cult laugh our asses off at how little your lives matter to us. Anyway, here’s a week’s grocery money, we’re all good, right?”

In true Trump fashion, seems the Dotard failed to investigate whether or not he can actually deliver his wee kickbacks before shooting his butthole mouth off, and I guess the only thing worse than offering the equivalent of a Starbucks gift card to the people he’s failed so badly is making the promise and then breaking it. It is really quite subtle, the Art of the Deal.

Ron DeSantis celebrated his state’s 14,000th Covid death by lifting all restrictions on Florida businesses, allowing bars and restaurants to operate at full capacity, sending a clear signal that the coronavirus is under control, which is kinda weird, since the coronavirus is decidedly not under control, in Florida of all places. When you report 2,847 new cases and 120 new deaths on the very same day you bellow EVERYBODY BACK IN THE WATER, I feel like you’re sending mixed signals, and not in a fun, flirty way but a Looking at This From a Certain Angle It’s Murder sort of way.

What Ron-Ron is doing here is actively facilitating the spread of a deadly disease among the very population he’s charged with protecting; and he’s doing it to falsely project safety and normalcy, hoping to trick voters into backing the odious buffoon who let the damn virus have its way with the country in the first place. It’s all so very, very evil.

All in all, a difficult week for anyone with an emotional stake in believing conservative men named Ron have anything between their ears but cobwebs and gerbil turds.

I think history will mark the day when Bilious Bill Barr hopped aboard the Bad Ship Shartanic as the precise point when the shitstorm went atomic. Barr took a ragtag mob of crooks, bigots, and wannabe dictators and showed them the U.S. government isn’t just gonna corrupt itself, you gotta go out there and corrupt it with your own two hands, boys! And he’s carried that can-do attitude to Team Treasonweasel’s efforts to destroy the republic ever since, to the dismay of every decent American.

The DoPJ**’s latest scheme involved the breathless and entirely-inappropriate revelation of an investigation into some Pennsylvania ballots that were surely intercepted by Captain Antifa and his band of Soros-funded cyborg ninjas. This story was, of course, rapidly debunked, not that fact-checking ever stops the Children of the Candy Corn from carving a lie into stone.

And it looks like the SCOTUS pick really is gonna be theocrat gun nut Amy Coney Barrett, so if you were expecting the tone of the discourse to chill with the weather, I mean, shit, have you MET 2020? We’re on a bullet train to the lowest circle of Hell, my friend, you must have noticed by now.

Ok, what else? The money keeps rolling in over at the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide. The siok, seven)-pack that donates to all the closest Senate races is understandably popular, but there are a lot of great House candidates who could use your help, too.


And hey, we just got the go-ahead from Kickstarter regarding my second comic book as a writer: MINE! Click below to sign up to be notified when we launch the campaign next week, it’s a nifty little space fable about leadership and limitations, I think it’ll appeal to politically-minded folks like y’all.


Hey, just a head’s up, my plan is to get the next blog up on Monday rather than the customary Tuesday night, so I can watch the debate. That’s the plan, but we all know what 2020 does to plans. One way or another, I’ll see you soon; stay safe out there, okay?

*At the risk of editorializing, I believe this is Bad.

**Department of Perverted Justice 

Your FACE is an Anarchist Jurisdiction, and Other Tales of Fascism (Ferret/Shower Cap)

So, the shitstorm refused to abate even long enough to let us grieve. We didn’t really expect it to. And we’re tired, sure, but we’re battle-hardened by now. Fascism relies on overwhelming the populace, pelting us with turd upon turd until we’re so worn down and covered in shit that we collapse. It isn’t working, have you noticed that? We’re too close to the finish line, sure, but we’re too strong for it, too. So join me for a bit, read through all this awful, fucked-up news, and marvel at how, after all these years and all this atrocity, your despair has not overwhelmed your resolve.

(tonight like every night, find this post, with news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/your-face-is-an-anarchist-jurisdiction-and-other-tales-of-fascism/)

Well, happy 200,000 Covid Deaths Day, everybody! Though surely an undercount, the record now officially states that two hundred thousand American lives, each of them precious (well, maybe not Carl), have been lost, senselessly, victims of Donald Trump’s selfishness and incompetence, yes, but also of the rotten, venal political party that enables his every crime, and somebody’s writing all those crimes down, right? Like in one central list? You’re never winning a Nobel Prize, you demented loser, but you’re getting close to meriting comparison to Stalin, slaughtering-your-own-people-wise, anyway.

Naturally, the proto-fascist GOP gazed out upon this macabre milestone, the greatest, costliest failure of leadership in modern times, and decided their dying, rageful, minority movement had earned itself a little treat, in the form the Notorious and Not-even-buried-yet RBG’s seat on the Supreme Court.

Basically, “Hi, you’re welcome for the corpse mound and the double digit unemployment and the lost year of fury and despair, we’d also like to remove some of your rights now.” They are...insane, to imagine people will put up with this.

At least we’ve dispensed with the bullshit political theatre, the Calvinball contortions and ethical masturbation. Bottom line: Mitch McConnell poked this bear once before, and he realigned 40 House districts right out of his own party’s base; while the bear remained, understandably, quite angry, the bear might have contented itself with devouring Cory Gardner and Martha McSally on Election Day, maybe nibbling on Thom Tillis’ toes a little bit, but now the bear’s gonna fast for a few days, make a little room, like when you’ve got reservations at a Brazilian steakhouse. Keep pokin’ that bear, Yertle, you’re gonna find out just how many of your colleagues live in straw houses.

It was Milksop King Willard Romney who took on the Oh You Thought I’d Do the Right Thing? Suckers! role traditionally filled by Susan Collins. That Mittens wants to grant a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the land to the very criminal he voted earlier this year to remove from office for high crimes and misdemeanors tells you all you need to know about the man; that his moral compass is a dog turd using live maggots for needles.

Naturally, the Velveeta Vulgarian brought his trademark Shittiness for Shittiness’ Sake to the “discussion,” proclaiming Ginsburg’s well-publicized dying wish to be a hoax orchestrated by Chuck, Nancy, and Adam Schiff, that shifty little pencil-necked geek. Now, nobody proposed our beloved Ruth’s last request be given actual legal weight, but in the end, it’s this very sort of pointless cruelty his voters want, more than any high court decision.

I see President Ostomy Bag is still pursuing the idea of giving the American education system a fascist makeover, gross. White-washing propaganda, with an extra coating or two to really give it that white nationalist sheen, is to be equated with “patriotism,” while anti-racist teachings are labeled “child abuse.” People think the Trump campaign is this careening clowncar, smashing wildly into the guardrails, and to an extent it is, but on one important level, the closing message is clear and consistent: a second Trump term would transform the United States into a post-democracy, white supremacist dictatorship, ruled in perpetuity by...a family of idiot game show hosts, for some reason.

That’s the pitch. That’s what they’re selling. All of them. Since Lafayette Square it’s been pretty much all fascism. And that’s deliberate. They’re pitching this vote as the last one. The last vote in American history, for white people who can’t bear the thought of sharing the country with anyone else. Break every law, fail every test, hell, fuck up an entire pandemic response for the stupidest conceivable reasons, destroying millions of jobs in the process, and even then, the people shall not have the right to depose their dumbfuck overlords.

Such audacity in the face of, lame gaslighting attempts notwithstanding, the undeniable, indeed inescapable river of shit we’re all wading though. You Nazi clowns, if you want to take away our right to self-rule, have the common sense to deliver, if not prosperity, at least something a little more appealing than the BIGGEST FUCKUP IN AMERICAN HISTORY.

See, that shit works in Russia, but we are not a people that will tolerate autocracy, or tyranny of the minority; we are in fact rather thoroughly indoctrinated with a completely contrary set of values, and you buttsniffers haven’t rewritten the textbooks just yet. You assclowns are already much further out on this limb than you understand, but Americans will not be ruled without our consent. There’s still time to figure that out the easy way, but not much.

HHS Secretary Alex Azar is fully DTF (“down to fascism”), proclaiming himself Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, Specifically the Food and Drug Administration. The idea here seems to be, “the truth is what Alex Azar says it is!” Fuck you, no it’s not. You aren’t even impressive Nazis. Azar, Pompeo, Chad Wolf...the Dotard himself! Mediocrities radiating insecurity from every pore! And they really imagine it’s strength they’re projecting!

Anyway, Seems the CDC is ground zero for the Turdmaggot Administration’s latest Orwellian airstrike against the forces of reason and public health. Guidelines are being issued and reversed and yanked and jerked in all directions at alarming rates; last time I checked, I think you’re supposed to shove a peanut-butter-and-hydroxychloroquine sandwich up your ass every day before you leave the house. It’s gotta be on rye bread though, or it doesn’t work.

It’s utter madness of course; all this is being done in the vain, desperate hope that four years of abomination will be forgiven and forgotten by the abused, exhausted electorate when these integrity black holes breathlessly announce a coronavirus vaccine the day before Halloween. Sorry kids, y’all spent your credibility allowance on crowd size and windmill cancer. I mean, how many Boy Who Cried Wolf gags can one blogger honestly be expected to come up with? Shit.

God love ‘em for trotting Larry “The Groundhog That Unfailingly Heralds Doom” Kudlow out to proclaim the runaway success/general hunky-doryness of all things. The very fact that someone in the Shart House comms shop deployed LARRY FUCKING KUDLOW at this late date, expecting America to hug him like the goddamn Snuggle Bear proves they’re unfit to govern. Good lord.

Redactor General William Barr designated Portland, Seattle and NYC as “anarchist jurisdictions,” to be stripped of federal funds as punishment for allowing the First Amendment to exist within city limits, and golly, the Republican dedication to limited government is breathtaking to behold. All part of pitch of course; diverse, blue, URBAN America, brought to heel, its riches plundered. How they plan to get us heathens to tolerate this state of affairs is...heh, unclear.

Anyhoo, it’s not just national Republicans who believe repeated, deadly failures merit totalitarian power grabs, oh no! Ron DeSantis, probably the most murderously inept governor in America, unveiled an exciting line of fun, fashy, new laws for the fall! While decriminalizing vehicular manslaughter, provided the victim is a filthy leftist, Ron-Ron also proposes some thrilling* loopholes designed to outlaw our very right to protest!

The BALLS on this goon. “Hey, now that I’ve catastrophically failed you during a public health crisis, resulting in thousands of unnecessary deaths, I’ve decided to redefine citizenship to exclude anyone who disapproves of my blundering!” Folks. Authoritarian Party. Not particularly subtle.

The truth is, Republican officials aren’t exactly being dragged against their will into these fascist flirtations. Many of them are taking to it quite naturally, in fact.

For example, Georgia’s unelected Senator, Kelly Loeffler, in her bid to fill the remainder of Johnny Isakson’s term, is asking the electorate to overlook her self-dealing financial crimes because she’s “more conservative than Attila the Hun,” which is essentially the same argument used by Hairplug Himmler himself: Yes I am an incompetent crook incapable of and uninterested in delivering any positive change for anyone other than myself, BUT I am cruel, and I will hurt the people you despise.

Now, if Kelly is merely yearning for the violent destruction of her enemies, on the state level you’ve got mega creeps like Kentucky state Representative and proud supporter of President What if Elmer Gantry Fucked the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man Robert S. Goforth, newly indicted for strangling a woman with an ethernet cable. Now, this is not the first time Rob has been accused of violently assaulting a woman, but Kentucky Republicans still won’t boot him from the legislature, because they think it’s important that the fella who just got INDICTED FOR STRANGLING A WOMAN WITH AN ETHERNET CABLE be allowed to weigh in on the laws governing society. Cool cool cool.

The latest filings from Manhattan district attorney Cy Vance’s investigation into the Turd Family Robinshart’s finances says they’re maybe kinda prolly under investigation for tax fraud, so can we see some damn tax returns now? Wow. The next season of this show looks like it could be really exciting, and full of satisfying payoffs, assuming the Rule of Law returns to the cast; I’m told there are backstage personality conflicts with Bill Barr, so it’s gonna have to be one or the other.

Look, the odds are, we’ve all got a Zoom funeral or two to get to, so I’ll bookend with the death toll and get out of your hair. To Donald John Trump, loser high priest to a drooling death cult, 200,000 individual human-life-shaped tragedies adds up to a so-called pandemic which “affects virtually nobody.”

I don’t understand how they don’t see it. The Children of the Candy Corn. Like, I get the cultiness, the fear and the hate and the promise to punish the enemy and pillage their lands, but like...his disdain for all human life...his contempt for you, his followers, specifically...he keeps saying it, out loud, right in front of you, over and over, and just...how do y’all not see it?

It’s also National Voter Registration Day, otherwise known as EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY here in my wine cave**. You’re registered, right? You’ve got a plan to vote? Safely, and EARLY? Gonna track your vote to make sure it’s been counted? These are perilous times, Resisters, and your citizenship is required.

Big thanks to everyone using the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide to donate to our awesome candidates, by the way. We just brought back the Six-Packs, which allow you to donate to groups of candidates at once. Whether you’re looking to protect our most vulnerable House incumbents or flip the Senate right out of Mitch McConnell’s shitty little terrapin claws, everybody knows a six-pack is better than one lonely ol’ beer.


And yeah, I’m launching the Kickstarter for comic #2, MINE from Resistance Comics, in a week. We’re proud of it, and we think you’ll like it, but please, if you’re choosing between a donation to Steve Bullock or Theresa Greenfield and my humble funny book, GIVE TO THE DEMS, no contest.

*to Nazis

**I do not have a wine cave. Also, Gordon Lightfoot is still alive. 

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK, Fucking Fuck, and Other News (Ferret/Shower Cap)

You ever find yourself watching the news, and suddenly wondering if somebody maybe gave Jake Tapper some bad acid and replaced his notes with long-lost outtakes from Naked Lunch? It can’t be just me.

(Find this post, with nifty nooz links, here: http://showercapblog.com/fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fucking-fuck-and-other-news/)

One of the ways we know we’re in Hell, like the Hell, and not just some cheap knockoff, is the way even the most innocuous little stories explode into turd-spraying geysers. “Surely I don’t need to pay attention to the Delaware Senate primary, surely that reliable bastion of boredom* can be counted upon to deliver a nice, ignorable result, and we can all move on to - OH SWEET TAP-DANCING CHRIST THE REPUBLICANS NOMINATED ANOTHER QANON FREAK?

For those keeping score at home, this makes two GOP candidates for the U.S. Senate who subscribe to that deranged nonsense**, to which I say: fuck you, 2020, fuck you right in the fucking ear for turning the DELAWARE SENATE PRIMARY into yet another wellspring of lunacy.***

So, it’s been six months. You don’t need me to tell you that Government Cheese Goebbels’ pandemic response has been a near-perfect disaster, as though the coronavirus had purchased every penny of his debt from Deutsche Bank and told him to get to busy spreadin’ COVID if he ever wanted to crap on a gold toilet again, but slap me with a catfish and call me Dennis Miller Without the Baggage if the doddering old coot didn’t find not one, but several new ways to make shit even worse. He’s a fucking savant.

He’s talking about herd immunity again, or “herd mentality” as processed by his Adderall-saturated, dying-before-our-very-eyes walnut brain, and frankly, he’s more than a little pissed at the millions of plebs who’ve spent the summer selfishly refusing to die for his glory and re-election. And when an incumbent, from his rotting throne atop a mountain of corpses 200,000 bodies high, proclaims that the real trouble is that not enough people have died, may I humbly suggest backing the challenger?

After all this time, and all this senseless, preventable death, none of the suffering means anything at all to President Crotchrot ASTERISK unless you happen to die in a state with a Democratic governor, in which case your coffin makes an appealing political cudgel, apparently, because blaming others for his own catastrophic failings is the only move he has left. To the millions of the Children of the Candy Corn out there, upon whom this pathetic garbage actually works, let me say I have come to personally resent your refusal to use the brains God gave ya.

Amazingly, this mountain of murderous fuckery, already nearly so enormous as to blot out the goddamn sun, is not enough for the Marmalade Shartcannon. Y’know, your run-of-the-mill destructive idiot would spread a little light misinformation, hold a handful of superspreader rallies, and call it a day, but not our Dotard, no, he has to wage open warfare on the very agency tasked with informing and protecting Americans during a public health crisis.

The argument for re-election is already a Dagwood sandwich of lies separated by mucilaginous layers of rancid mayonnaise, but obviously, the flavor that holds the whole wobbly thing together is the Miraculous Last Minute Appearance of a Vaccine, and that pesky CDC is stepping on President Carnival Barker’s planned Most Suprising October Snake Oil Exposition and Jug Bande Show, with their stupid cuck “science” and “realistic expectations.”

And so, as he has done repeatedly from the very beginning of this unceasing shitstorm, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot attacks the experts, with all the viciousness his rotting heart can muster. And so people lose faith in their institutions. And the President’s lethal misinformation further takes root. And the virus spreads. And people suffer, and some us die. (If you napped through the last six months, life’s been pretty much...this paragraph on an endless, inescapable loop.)

The Failing New York Times got ahold of a bunch of internal e-mails from the CDC, revealing a culture of crazed, shit-brained, political hacks desperate to overrule scientists and undermine the government’s pandemic response, in the name of preserving whatever Orwell-by-way-of-Ralph Wiggum spin Gameshow Göring happened to be belching up that day.

And Michael Caputo isn’t fired, mind you, he’s on “medical leave.” He gets to come back, as soon as he feels up to the strenuous work of murdering people with disinformation again. Cool.

Meanwhile, COVID-19 has once again penetrated the very White House itself, almost tauntingly at this point, like it’s flaunting its ability to meander in and out of the so-called most secure building on Earth at will. And in repeatedly getting within striking distance of Dorito Mussolini without ever quite infecting him, clearly the virus is mocking us for installing the clod in the first place.

Wisconsin Senator Ron Johnson’s new “Yeah I Do Putin’s Bidding, Sorry, It’s So Much Worse Than a Pee Tape” face tattoo was finally a step too far for Willard Romney, who denounced RoJo’s unseemly efforts to fabricate some sort of Biden Benghazi out of pipe cleaners and the contents of his own ass. Always fascinating to see just which bits of treacherous criminality cross the wildly-inconsistent Romney Line on the Partisan-Outrage-o-meter, isn’t it?

Well, Weehands McNodick, perhaps seeking a refreshing change of pace from the day-to-day grind of failing to contain the coronavirus outbreak, waddled over to ABC News to fail at holding a town hall. Stripped of the safety provided by sycophantic wingnut media figures willing to lead him by the hand through fields of the fluffiest imaginable softballs, the Emperor of Maggots was, as always, revealed to be decidedly clothes-less, save for a loincloth composed of a near-dead tapeworm, burrowed into the taint, gnawing on his carbuncled genitalia.

His craven enablers described the town hall as an “ambush,” and honestly, I see their point. Team Treasonweasel’s strategy is all about fooling some of the people all of the time, requiring cultish, unquestioning acceptance of Tangerine Idi Amin’s ever-shifting alternate reality from their base, so yes, concerns and questions from regular Americans, aka the poor schmucks trapped here in the real world with the consequences of Donald Trump’s real-world fuckups IS an assault, because reality’s slightest breeze blasts the whole shitty house of cards to pieces.

The President of the United States has once again been credibly accused of sexual assault, news which not so very long ago would’ve commandeered the attention of every political and media figure in the country. Today, it barely makes a ripple; no one expects members of the Gropey Grand Wizard’s party to condemn him, or even acknowledge the accusation. No one expects the story to swing a single vote from his evangelical “Christian” base. That’s how much he’s poisoned our culture.

A federal judge ruled that the United States Postal Service is not Louis DeJoy’s personal plaything, to be abused or broken or turned into a bong or whatever, even though he paid 600 grand for it. And hopefully this puts an end to Postmaster Lou’s fashy ratfucking, but this administration has already dipped a toe or two into the “what if we DON’T listen to the courts?” pool, so I’m gonna wait a few days to pop my party favor, if you don’t mind.

Speaking of the authoritarian cabal working to destroy American democracy from within, we all know by now Bilious Bill is the most dangerous member of the Is It Time to Start Wearing the Armbands in Public Yet Administration, and he is in full cornered rat mode, folks. See, the Redactor General understands that a return to the rule of law will bring with it an accompanying prison sentence for one William Pelham Barr, and therefore, if he wants to see sunshine for more than an hour a day throughout his golden years, he’s gotta figure out some way to break the Constitution beyond all repair, like a shitty, jowlsy, treasonous Reverse MacGyver.

Mama Barr, please come get your boy, he’s done a fascism again. Holy fuckballs, he’s on a rampage. Trying to charge protesters with SEDITION. Seeking federal charges against the fucking MAYOR OF SEATTLE. All while malevolently monologuing about his “virtually unchecked” power. He’s losing his shit all over the people in his own department, who’ll shortly be tripping over one another to line up to serve on the team prosecuting him next year.

Oh, and he’s eagerly spewing the Trump GOP’s favorite Kool-Aid flavor: Mewling White Victimhood!**** You may doubt his sincerity, imagine he’s merely throwing red meat to the crowd, but no, to privilege-drunk mediocrities like Barr, the smallest sacrifices in the name of public health are indeed EXACTLY LIKE SLAVERY, and if someone were to produce some sort of reality television program where these whinging conservative snowflakes were subjected to conditions approximating actual oppression, I would never turn it off.

The attempted fascist takeover of the United States took a fun, unexpected, sci-fi turn, when we learned Barr’s patchwork Gestapo toyed with the idea of deploying an honest-to-goodness heat ray against peaceful protesters during the infamous Welp Time to Go Full Hitler I Guess incident in Lafayette Square. A fucking HEAT RAY. Huge shout-out to whatever cut-rate Tony Stark dropped that tool into those tiny, inadequate, monstrous little hands.

That’ll be tough to top, but maybe they’re holding back the really cool Mega Man weapons for the Election Night protests Hairplug Himmler is already openly fantasizing about crushing. He really does want to kill us, you know. He wants SO BADLY to order the United States military to open fire on great crowds of Americans who’ve rejected him. Anyway, vote Biden.

Those of us who are not slain outright are to be indoctrinated, of course. You probably know by now that the 1619 Project is a bug up the ass of every white nationalist loser in America, particularly the Fux Nooz hosts that beam their bigoted bile directly into the Fascist Farthuffer’s mind every waking moment of every day, and so now he’s vowing to personally bleach every history textbook in America, won’t Stephen Miller be pleased?

Olivia Troye, until quite recently Vice President Mike Pants’ lead coronavirus staffer, got ahold of one of the last remaining unblown whistles in Washington and, holy heck, she blew the living shit out of the fucker. Troye confirms what we've known all along, that the Velveeta Vulgarian's deadly combination of selfishness and idiocy caused the outbreak to spiral out of control, killing tens of thousands. Oh, and yes, he despises his base, which is obvious to everyone except, y'know...them. 

While the right wing spin machine engages in all their usual attacks (and I’m sure the Big Bad Deep State Wolf is really coming this time, kids), I don’t think this is all bad for them; Troye’s assertion that Sharty McFly found a sunny side to the pandemic, in that he was no longer obligated to shake hands with the filthy peasant class, is certainly closer to a warm, humanizing anecdote than anything offered by any of his own malevolved children at the RNC.

I cannot imagine what warped oaths to Mikey Hairshirt’s suppressed, debasing God one has to swear in order to serve on his staff, but the basically Republicaniest Republicans that ever Republicaned are screaming YOU FOOLS HE’LL KILL US ALL and while I am unwilling to let them set tax policy, I think we should listen to them on this one thing.

And the VeryStable Jeenyuss saw some Florida polling and decided to make a cynical, half-assed pass at tricking Puerto Ricans into forgetting about that whole “leaving you to die in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria” thing, to say nothing of the “trying to trade you for Greenland” thing. This kind of overconfidence comes from a lifetime of dominating Eric in peek-a-boo, you know.

H.R. McMaster swung by for a quick cameo, mentioning that the Bonespur Buttplug’s Afghanistan policy essentially partners the U.S. with the Taliban, and like, H.R.! Bro! Teaming up with the bad guys is just how we do shit now! We’re an Axis Of country these days. Try to keep up.

Anyway, I was just moving into the editing phase of the usual Friday night post when The Bad News broke, and...yeah. Just what we needed, a sledgehammer gut punch after four years of the fascist kick line stomping on our collective groin. And yes, as expected, Mitch McConnell refused to observe even an hour’s worth of decorum before spiking his football, delighted that his bet against decency and democracy had paid off so handsomely.

It seems so cruel and unfair, that just when we’re finally about rid ourselves of this lethally incompetent loser cult, they get rewarded with decades of veto power over the progressive change agenda the people so clearly yearn for.

Nothing is set in stone yet, my friends, and I believe Wrinkly Gamera has miscalculated. He thinks he’s still dealing with the 2016 Dem coalition, soft and overconfident, baffled by his procedural razzle-dazzle and incapable of understanding the power of the Court. We’ve been marching and fighting and organizing for four long years now, Mitchell me lad, and as much fun as it’s been living under the tyranny of your dirtbag theocrat minority, don’t believe for a minute we’re gonna let you just walk out the front door with another one.

Can we stop them? Yes we can. The chips haven’t fallen yet; the players are waiting to see what the American people will DO. We probably need to go all Belarus on their authoritarian asses to win this one. Do we have that in us? Well, that’s up to you.

So...do you?

You’re not alone in this fight. Did you see how much fucking money ActBlue raised last night? I’m super proud that my humble Action Guide was the tiniest part of that haul, and if you’re looking to help flip the Senate or protect and expand our House majority, well, I hope you’ll check the site out; we’re all very proud of it.


Me, I could use a fucking beer. Oh, the comic. Feels a little gauche to hawk my stuff now, but I think y’all will dig it; it’s a nifty little sci-fi parable about love, leadership, and limitations. If nothing else, the art is pretty as fuck, and it’ll provide a little much-needed escapism in these dark times. The Kickstarter launches on Tuesday, September 29th; hope I’ll see you then.

One way or another, stay safe out there, Resisters, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ RIDE for a while.

*Ok, I forgot about Christine O’Donnell before I committed to the bit. Between this and the Gordon Lightfoot thing, I’m SLIPPING, y’all.

**Instead of “deranged nonsense,” I initially wrote “batshit horseshit,” which is technically synonymous, but might be a bit much, even for this blog.

***Yeah, yeah, Christine O’Donnell. Goddammit, this joke would’ve worked. Sorry, folks.


Coronavirus, Michael Caputo, & Other Things That Are Trying to Kill Us All (Ferret/ShowerCap)

I’ve certainly developed greater empathy for every old-witch-who-lives-in-the-woods/crazy-old-man-in-a-shack-outside-town I’ve ever encountered in fiction, now that I too spend my days in twitchy solitude, cackling to myself at seemingly random intervals. 2020 will make mad hermits of us all, surely.

(Find this post, in color, with nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/coronavirus-michael-caputo-other-things-that-are-trying-to-kill-us-all/)

Bob Woodward continues the promotional striptease for his forthcoming book, RAGE, like some Victorian harlot flashing a lil’ ankle right in the public square in front of God and everybody. His latest bit of audio titillation further confirms that the truth about COVID-19’s deadliness did indeed penetrate President Dotard’s cracked walnut brain, meaning, again, he lied while we died in droves. What’s surprising to me here is that there are still folks who expect him to demonstrate basic human decency, or even normal human emotions, when everything we know about the man tells us that no life outside his own matters to him even slightly. Yes, that is a rather undesirable leadership trait, I quite agree.

A really fun theme this week is Republican Calls For Violence Against Democrats. If Republican Calls For Violence Against Democrats were something delightfully collectible, like Beanie Babies or Pokémon, wow, everyone would be rejoicing in their bountiful good fortune right now. Regrettably, it’s more of a death-throes-of-a-proto-fascist-movement-facing-electoral-defeat-and-trying-to-decide-how-willing-it-is-to-commit-mass-murder-in-order-to-survive kind of thing, so it’s really much less adorable than the aforementioned scenarios.

Naturally, Hairplug Himmler himself is hardly shy about busting out the old stochastic terror bullhorn, casually endorsing the concept of extra-judicial killings as justified “retribution,” and between his instinctive vindictiveness and persistently awful swing state polling, I wonder how long we have until he abandons traditional GOTV efforts in favor of tweeting at his waiting mob that the time has finally come to burn down any house with a Biden sign on the lawn?

Roger Stone’s certainly all for it, calling for martial law, because I guess his custom-made, get-out-of-treason free card isn’t enough for him, he wants to see the whole fucking country burn for having the audacity to enforce its laws on his wrinkly white ass in the first place. Such is the indignant fury of the aging white nationalist; Roger would rather destroy the American experiment for all the generations yet to come than share the slightest bit of it for the handful of years remaining to him.

And Stoney’s pal, Michael Caputo, made history by becoming the first HHS assistant secretary of public affairs ever to incite violence against political opponents in a conspiracy-theory-filled social media breakdown that would make Sam Nunberg blush, news of which came hot on the heels of accusations that he’s altered CDC coronavirus reports for political purposes, endangering American lives just so Donald Trump can keep his weekend golf grift going, and this dude STILL has not been fired. I feel like we should’ve looked at the fine print on that “Best People” deal.   

Anyway, if you’re somehow not fully satiated, as far as articles about wingnut lunatics trying to get you and your loved ones killed are concerned...I mean, the supply chain remains intact, it would seem.

I confess I’d be more worried about this slobbering death cult, if they didn’t seem so much more focused on and efficient at destroying themselves. There are apparently not enough Herman Cain funerals in the world to convince these brainwashed creeps to stop gathering together in crowds to offer themselves up to the coronavirus like so many dumbfuck full-sized Snickers to America’s most lethal novel trick-or-treater.  (Fun fact: a group of Trump supporters is called an “outbreak.”)

Because yes, still, in defiance of local laws, medical advice, and common fucking sense, Shart Garfunkel gathers his shitty flock wherever and whenever he can, including at one very illegal stop in Nevada over the weekend. You can question the political wisdom of killing off your most fervent supporters right before an election, but if you look deep into his eyes while he’s delivering one of his mendacious little rants, you can see what it’s all about: “Look Dad, they’re willing to die for me! Not so unworthy of love now, am I? AM I?”

Wildfire season is always difficult, but things get infinitely more complicated under a resentment-driven president who views crises in blue states primarily as opportunities to torment people who didn’t vote for him. The demented fuck actually flew out to California to lecture local officials, and I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the mind that came up with EUREKA! WE’LL ALL JUST DRINK BLEACH! would also believe that trees can explode.

Turns out Louis DeJoy wasn’t taking any chances in his quest to buy his way into the Turd Reich; he dropped $600,000 in political contributions once he heard the Postmaster General gig opened up. In a way, I almost can’t fault Louis; if I had that kind of scratch, I’d be fulfilling my childhood dreams, too, it’s just mine would involve making really pretentious art films starring myself while Louis seems to want to participate in the overthrow of American democracy.

The periodic self-owning hijinks of the absolutely unteachable grifter duo of Jacob Wohl and Jack Burkman make me wonder if a higher power, some sort of godlike scriptwriter who appreciates the necessity of regular comic relief, hasn’t been carefully shaping this hellscape all along for its own amusement. Anyway, these assclowns staged a fake FBI raid on themselves, because while Cult45 seeks to institutionalize white supremacy, they’d never accept it unless they still got to cling to the whinging sense of victimhood which is so essential to their identity.

We’ve been talking a great deal about climate change this week, with Smilin’ Joe Biden  giving the latest in a serious of calmly effective little speeches, reminding the electorate that of their two choices, he is the one who lives in reality, rather than a dirtbag rich boy’s Fantasia where an offstage pile of Daddy’s Money makes every obstacle mysteriously vanish.

“It’ll start getting cooler. You just watch.”

That’s really and truly the entire Trump plan for the great existential crisis facing humanity. The problem will, with absolutely no exertion on his part, simply cease to be a problem. 200,000 graves into the coronavirus outbreak, and his faith in his ability to will catastrophe into nonexistence remains bafflingly unshaken.

“It’ll start getting cooler.” In about...two weeks, right?

Look, times are tight, and I had to furlough Bill at the Abject Horror Desk, though frankly, he looked like he could use the rest, which is really saying something considering he’s a literary device that exists nowhere outside this blog. But there are some stories where abject horror is the only appropriate emotional response, so...

Bill at the Abject Horror Desk: According to a whistleblower, the United States government is perpetrating some deeply horrific shit at ICE detention facilities, including forced hysterectomies, which is...let’s not fuck around: it’s Nazi shit. And we’ve been tightrope-walking along that gruesome line for quite some time now, but sterilizing human beings without consent is convene-the-war-crimes-tribunal-level stuff.

Bill at the Abject Horror Desk: This is one of those “it’s happening here” stories. It’s not the first, of course. I certainly hope it’s among the last, because a second Trump term is looking more and more like an audition to be counted alongside human history’s greatest evils, and while I do not agree with 100% of his platform, I just think Vice President Biden is a better option for America at this time.

Fucking hell. If I can humbly offer a glimmer of good news in the midst of the atrocity, the battle for a much-needed peaceful transition of power is going about as well as we could hope for. Bakery fresh polling shows Tangerine Idi Amin’s desperate ploy to win back the suburbs through violence and fear has failed, thank all the gods in all the heavens. And hey, if you require sprinkles on your already-scrumptious Democracy Cupcake, know that multiple last-minute attempts to sneak the ratfucking Green Party onto crucial swing state ballots have recently failed in court.

(To the Greens...personally, I can think of more effective ways of fighting for progressive outcomes than serving as willing pawns to a would-be American Hitler, but far be it from me to counsel against repeating tragic mistakes.)

If you’d told me four years ago that the day would come when I would take no pleasure in the misfortunes of John Bolton, I’d have assumed somebody was destined to give me a kitten named “John Bolton” as a joke, which would actually be pretty damn funny, but here in the Shittiest of All Possible Timelines what happened is, the Justice Department opened an investigation into Murderstache’s recent tell-all, as part of Redactor General William Barr’s ongoing corruption of our institutions of law, which is bad for Bolton, yes, but much worse for our poor, battered country, so no, there is no joy to be taken from John-John’s tribulations; truly, fascists ruin absolutely everything.

Well, thank god it’s Friday, anyhow. “But Cap, it’s only Tuesd-OH HANG ON I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE LIKE IT FEELS LIKE A WHOLE WEEK ALREADY BUT IT’S ONLY TUESDAY YOU WILY DOG YOU!” I think I should I sign off now, before I’m tempted to tell any more hilarious, hilarious jokes.

Please continue using and sharing the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide, we’re raising some real money for our team! And be on the lookout for the forthcoming Kickstarter for my next comic book...MINE! 


This Week in Hell: Woodward and Whistleblowing and...Joe Lieberman Was There (Ferret/Shower Cap)

So, I see Dr. Fauci says we might have to live like this for another year or more, and I’m like, “don’t be silly, my vocal chords couldn’t possibly hold out that long,” as yet another news cycle reduces me to baying at the moon like a stray dog that got into Uncle Brody’s still again, a drunken, formless, primal yowl...yeah, I can do another year. Standing on my damn head, bro. (Weeps)

(Weep along with me, WITH news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-woodward-and-whistleblowing-and-joe-lieberman-was-there/)

In parts of our poor, bleeding country, the literal color of the fucking sky has changed to a sickly, unnatural hue as wildfires rampage out of control. A gender reveal party sparks a blaze that consumes more than 13,000 acres, while legions of radicalized wingnut drones blame imaginary swarms of antifa arsonists. Life in America feels more and more like being trapped in a SimCity game run by some kid with a sense of vindictive justice shaped by old EC Comics.

Some fella named Bob Woodward, who as near as I can tell is a character from a Robert Redford movie come to life, and somebody should really look into how the fuck that happened, ANYWAY, he’s got a book coming out. It is a book about Donald Trump, in case you feel like letting the cancer of his already inescapable presence spread into even more of your life. Me, I’ll stick to the headlines.

The headlines are plenty, God knows. So, it turns out the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits knew all along that COVID-19 was deadly, he just lied and lied while we died by the tens of thousands.

I guess it counts as newsworthy that his rabbit turd brain was actually capable of processing information more sophisticated than See Spot Run, but like, didn’t we know this shit already? Or have we lowered our standards so far that we just accept the President probably thinks all this stuff about viruses and transmission is “witch talk,” and hope for the best?

The Velveeta Vulgarian’s spin here is that he didn’t want to cause a panic, which, yes, is really quite ludicrous coming from the wheezing turdnozzle who spends his days conjuring images of a scythe-wielding Joe Biden rampaging through the suburbs one Applebee’s at a time, but it’s also a fairly weak excuse. “I didn’t want to panic people, so I got a quarter of a million of them killed instead.” Oh. Well. That was poor judgment. Are you sure you’re cut out for leadership?

Other highlights from the upcoming Woodward include Government Cheese Goebbels’ boastful revelation of a classified weapons system, the sort of insecurity-fueled groveling he usually reserves for Oval Office meetings with Russian spies.

Oh, and he also bragged (so confident, our president) about helping murderous thug MBS get away with dismembering a Washington Post journalist...to an associate editor...of the Washington Post. He worked harder to shield an autocrat from accountability for an atrocity than he has to protect his 330 million constituents from the coronavirus and yeah, I just feel like Joe Biden is a better fit for this gig.

Oh, and speaking of Russian spies, Andriy Derkach sure is one! But that’s not all, Andriy is also Rotten-Mouthed Cousin-Fucker Rudy Giuliani’s partner in various international Biden-smearing ventures, AND Senator Ron Johnson’s personal disinformation dealer, and honestly, I hope Putin pays the guy what he’s worth. Weird that a Wisconsin Senator is doing the Kremlin’s bidding, but seriously, Derkach has clearly earned that Employee of the Month parking space.

Impeachable crimes: like treasonous Lay’s, it is difficult, apparently, to stop at just one. A DHS whistleblower alleges Acting Gruppenführer Chad Wolf repeatedly ordered the subversion of his department’s national security duties to the fleeting political whims of his Maggot Maharaja. Wolf, and his shit-eating worm sidekick, Ken Cuccinelli, are suppressing intelligence on Russian assaults on the 2020 election, and demanding official assessments match up with whatever viscous blobs of bullshit happen to fall out of Donald Trump’s pinched sphincter mouth.

...and it’s not even the biggest story of the day. I don’t think it even landed with the general public, honestly. “Flood the zone with shit,” right? Life in the fall of 2020 is lived between the ticks of a clock attached to a bomb; we’re just waiting to see if the person holding the cutters is the protagonist, or some sort of disposable act one throwaway played by a character actor. Please don’t be Sean Bean.

Looking to somehow pander hard enough to make folks forget that he’s single-handedly responsible for the greatest decline in the quality of Americans’ lives since the Great Depression (or the third Coldplay album, depending on how one measures these things), Strawberry Shartcake released an updated list of undomesticated assclowns he’d consider elevating to the Supreme Court, a veritable who’s who of people-loathing scumfucks, including Tom Cotton, Hugo Drax, Bobby Heenan, Liberty Valance, Josh Hawley, Waluigi, The Nothing, Ghislaine Maxwell, A Wad of Pubic Hair From an Alabama Truck Stop Restroom Which Has Gained Sentience, the Reverse Flash, and, ew, Ted Cruz.

“This looks like a job for Joe Lieberman!” said precisely no one ever, and yet Joe Lieberman inflicted his pomposity upon the world anyway, endorsing feckless concern-expresser Susan Collins’ re-election, in the name of some long-extinct bipartisan ideal that exists nowhere outside of Joe Lieberman’s unearned sense of self-regard anymore. You wanna shake the man, ask him what fight he imagines he’s fighting in this age of rapidly-encroaching fascism, but you don’t trust yourself to stop shaking, y’know?

Speaking of sanctimonious dithering in the face of mass suffering, Mitch McConnell’s latest dreary, cynical piece of political performance art, a “skinny” coronavirus relief bill, was defeated as predicted. I think it’s weird that so Americans are about to cast their votes for Yertle and his cronies, considering their extremely public devotion to making a terrible situation worse, but I guess folks take that War on Xmas stuff pretty seriously.

I’ve said this before, but I’ve really come to understand why so much of the art from behind the Iron Curtain was absurdist in nature; everything is just so huffing-nitrous-oxide-through-your-butthole-using-a-Shop-Vac-ingly insane lately. Like, how do the burgeoning millions of QAnon devotees reconcile their belief that Shart Garfunkel is secretly fighting a vast international left-wing child sex trafficking cabal with his confession, in front of the whole damn world, six months and nearly 200,000 corpses into the pandemic he continues to neglect, to watching as much television as a third grader on summer break? “Donald Trump working” is the nuttiest part of the whole conspiracy theory, honestly.

Even Mike Pants is attending Qnatic fundraisers now, HOW CHRISTLIKE IS THAT? In fairness, I imagine it’s more fun to pretend you’re fighting a secret society of pedophiles than to face the reality that you’re personally responsible for more human suffering than almost anyone alive, and that if Jesus came back, he’d deliver a very long, passionate sermon holding up you, personally, as an example of religious hypocrisy and phony piety.

The lying librul media would have you believe the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus exists in a state of constant panic and existential dread over their inability to figure out how, HOW FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE DARK GRIFTER GODS, do you run against Joe Biden, but if that were the case, would they be confidently proffering this latest frantic lie, that Old Handsome Joe, whom they have tried n’ tried to paint as a drooling nitwit, scarcely able to dress himself, only appears so lucid in his constantly multiplying public Trump-stomping events because he’s taking some kind of performance-enhancing drugs?

The idea here seems to be that there’s some sci-fi, Flowers for Algernon miracle pill that temporarily vanquishes dementia, leaving only Mad Rhetorical Skillz in its wake, but nobody’s ever thought to slip one to Doc Dotard before he waddles out to tell Americans to shoot bleach into their goddamn eyeballs? Sure, Jan.

A senior prosecutor working on John Durham’s “investigation” into the origins of the Russia probe resigned, presumably because she believes her duty is to the rule of law, rather than to manufacturing a bullshit October surprise for the Emperor of Hemorrhoids, to whom the entire executive branch must bow, according to Redactor General William Barr. I miss Jeff Sessions, and I don’t like the way that makes me feel.

Condolences go out to Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo, whose wife has been caught using a private email address to conduct government business. By the extremely consistent rules of modern conservatism, her life is now forfeit to the God of Information Security. I’m told the ritual is...quite grisly.

And we’re back to the concluding paragraph, without even the novelty of nudity to spice up the proceedings. Oh, hey, there ARE a bunch of new entries in the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide, so keep checking back, and keep sharing, the Guide is growing all the time! Stay safe out there, campers. 


America Went to Sturgis and All We Got Was This Lousy Nationwide Covid Outbreak (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Longtime readers will recall that in previous posts, I’ve described life under the Turd Reich as like being trapped in a dryer filled with hammers and badgers. After all these years, I stick to that assessment, and I have to admit I’m impressed at the way they keep cycling in fresh badgers. It never fucking stops, does it?

(You can get this post, with nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/america-went-to-sturgis-and-all-we-got-was-this-lousy-nationwide-covid-outbreak/)

Fallout from the-troops-are-scum-unworthy-to-lick-my-boots-my-Daddy-was-rich-you-see-gate continues, as the Treasonweasel Administration struggles to deny the Most Believable Story in Human History. Like, if somebody leaked some shit about Donald Trump, say, helping a young person struggling with a disability, I mean, fuckin’ nobody would believe that, but what we’ve got here is “Known Shithead is Shithead in Extremely Familiar Fashion,” so you’re fucked, creeps.

Not that their efforts haven’t been adorable. When they brought back, of all the credibility-deficient stooge surrogates, Sarah Huckleberry Slanders, to belch up the official Indignant Denial, fuck, it was like watching Paula Deen scoldingly insist there’s no such thing as butter.

But better still was the Bonespur Buttplug’s own pathetic lie, that he called home to Melania, seeking comfort cuz he was just so gosh-darn sad to miss that cemetery visit, when Melania was right there with him on the whole fuckin’ trip. Perfection. That’s not only priceless insight into the frigid workings of our warped, Tennessee-Williams-by-way-of-David-Cronenberg first “family,” but also one of those useless, childish lies of his that completely exposes his sniveling apologists, with a light so clear and holy it could only have come from God’s own asshole.

Anyway, in his quest to demonstrate what a troop-lovin’, normal-human-emotion-havin’ fool he is, President Crotchrot decided to sic his frequently-violent harassment mob on philanthropist Laurene Powell Jobs, since she owns a stake in the Atlantic, which caused this whole kerfuffle in the first place, with their dastardly journalism. The fallback plan always seems to be stochastic terrorism, isn’t that weird? I think it’s weird.

Further attempts to prove his nigh-CareBearsian love of the military culminated in accusing the Pentagon of war-mongering and -profiteering and -othernaughtinesscausing, and if you need a chuckle, Team Turdmaggot is counting on this dolt’s rhetorical skillz to turn things around at the debates. If y’all wanna bring the Person Woman Man Camera TV dude to a Joe Biden fight, I’m not exactly gonna tackle you in the hallway, y’know?

It seems the Hairplug That Ate Decency isn’t quite done rubbing his seeping, malformed genitals all over the Presidential Medal of Freedom, which he has now chosen to award to Lou Holtz, who I am told is some sort of college sports coach, but who is receiving the nation’s highest civilian honor for impugning Joe Biden’s faith at the apocalyptic screechfest men call the Republican National Convention. Surely Kyle Rittenhouse can’t be far behind.

The novel coronavirus which causes COVID-19 still cannot believe its fucking luck in stumbling across the festering stewpot of freedumb-crazed selfishness that is 21st America. “After more than six months, they’re still gathering in ridiculously large groups for me to feast upon? I mean, I don’t get it, but I’m not gonna complain! It’s like a buffet that comes right to your house!” said the virus, later asking me for a list of upcoming Trump campaign events.  

Because yeah, those reckless school reopenings have indeed led to outbreaks all over the country, exactly like the experts repeatedly told us they would. If this truly is, as the dumbest and loudest among us seem to believe, a massive long con perpetrated by a sinister cabal of doctors and scientists, let me just say David Mamet has really outdone himself with this one. The wingnut superspreader event in Sturgis, South Dakota was an inspired choice, if may say so, maestro.

A new study links that particular douchebag mass tantrum to nearly 20% of the new COVID-19 cases in the United States over the course of a month, a quarter of a million confirmed infections, because I guess a culture war is waged by dropping bombs on your own culture. The study estimates the ultimate public health cost of this play date for the emotionally stunted will be $12.2 billion, and even factoring in scalpers, that seems like a pretty hefty price tag for a motherfucking Smash Mouth concert.

It’s particularly obscene, watching South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem’s unseemly attempt to ride a wave of her constituents’ corpses to MAGA superstardom. I understand she plans to publish a memoir, “How to Get Ahead in a White Supremacist Death Cult,” in Spring 2021, a limited run printed entirely on the unused diary pages of coronavirus victims.

Because his campaign has devolved into a white nationalist shitfit, the Marmalade Shartcannon has proclaimed anti-racism to be un-American, and vowed to root it out wherever he can get his tiny, inadequate little hands around it. Whether it’s diversity training for federal employees or schools using the New York Times’ 1619 Project in their curriculum, he remains dedicated to stamping out progress in the name of the white and subpar, for he is their Piss-Coated Turd God.

That’s the closing message, by the way: nobody understands the plight of a shitty white guy better than Donald J. Trump. Hell, he needed every advantage the system could provide, plus a billionaire father to boot, just to keep from starving to death ten minutes after leaving home.

It’s truly a shame Gordon Lightfoot is no longer with us to immortalize the Dipshit MAGAt Boat Parade on Lake Travis in song. Now, we all enjoyed a richly-deserved laugh here, but seriously, when the universe keeps slapping you in the fucking face with metaphors this obvious, you HAVE to start noticing, don’t you? Like, as your craft sinks to the bottom of a lake because you have chosen to pass your time amongst the dangerously selfish and incompetent, surely it must occur to you, “holy crud, I’m in a loser cult and all these people are losers and cultists! I need to make some CHANGES!” Surely.

UPDATE: HEY GUESS WHAT? Gordon Lightfoot is alive. That’s actually wonderful news. I don’t know why I thought he was dead, but he’s not. It’s late, and I’m tired, and I’m not rewriting the paragraph, but I’ve never been happier to be wrong. 

Enterprising journalists uncovered 2020’s breakout supervillain, Postmaster General Louis DeJoy’s origin story. Hard to believe that before becoming a key lackey in Tangerine Idi Amin’s attempted fascist takeover of the United States, he was merely a humble corrupt businessman, illegally reimbursing employees for the political donations he pressured them to make in the first place. This time next year, Louis is either gonna be behind bars, or giving seminars to the wealthy and unscrupulous on how to buy your way into the kakistocracy.

Won’t be difficult, Strawberry Shartcake certainly needs the cash. The Committee to Re-elect the Taintfungus seems to have burned through what was once a historic funding advantage with nothing to show for it except the ability to draw Joe Biden’s backside from memory, and everything on every Xmas list Brad Parscale e’er dared conjure in the darkest, most decadent recesses of his shitty, grifter mind.

So they’re retreating from the airwaves in must-win swing states, because obviously they don’t want to dip into the tens of millions in Cult45 donations set aside as Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet’s personal legal slush fund. You wish you could make them understand, don’t you? You are a piggy bank to him, nothing more. He would smash you to pieces for four bucks in change.

‘Course, maybe Donnie Two-Scoops will be able to pull himself out of the fiscal quicksand by selling desecrated, excuse me, “autographed” Bibles, designed to commemorate one of the nation’s darkest days, when the old bastard finally went full fascist and used uniformed agents to tear gas peaceful American protesters in Lafayette Square. $37,500 Trump-signed Bibles. I guarantee you Jared Kushner is starting to kick around branding concepts for the second term re-education camps.

Yeah, he’s 31 flavors of Biblical, that Donald Trump. If there’s a Nobel Prize for Christlike Behavior, surely he put the finishing touches on a winning candidacy when he golfed through yet another Sunday while hundreds of Americans died from his pandemic blundering, and for good measure, his shitbag campaign mocked Joe Biden for visiting the graveyard where Beau is buried.   

Ummmm...what else? I see Wrinkly Gamera has a laughably inadequate coronavirus “relief” bill, because he still thinks the unemployed can be tricked into believing they have jobs. Live by the gaslight, die by the gaslight, motherfuckers.

Oh, now I see Bilious Bill Barr is trying to get the Department of Justice, you know, the one paid for by American taxpayers, to take over the defense in E. Jean Carroll’s defamation suit against the Rapist-in-Chief. I’m gonna need a tax refund of, ohhhhhh, I’d say just about every penny I’ve ever paid, William. This shit is not in the contract.

And a historic moment for Shower Cap’s Blog, as today’s piece was composed entirely while nude. There is, of course, absolutely no reason for me to tell you this, but I think it adds a little spice to the concluding paragraph, which has grown a bit stale of late. Plus, now you can read the whole thing all over again, and say to yourself, “Ah, I thought he sounded naked here.”

PS - Don’t forget the action guide: http://showercapblog.com/fascist-flushing-2020-guide-house/

Trump 2020: Mass Pandemic Graves, Economic Carnage, Also I Hate the Troops (Ferret/Shower Cap)

I got stung by a bee last night, so there’s a chance that I’ve had an allergic reaction, and hallucinated this week’s news. I understand that it’s a fairly slight chance, but nobody’ll mind if I cling to it like a big ol’ o-shaped cartoon life preserver, right? C’mon, give me a few short hours to believe none of this shit is really happening. Life is good and nice and normal and certainly Batman didn’t get Covid.

(As ever, find this post, WITH nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/trump-2020-mass-pandemic-graves-economic-carnage-also-i-hate-the-troops/)

I see the Department of Homeland Security withheld intelligence about a Russian attack on the Biden campaign, and like, is the NAME OF YOUR FUCKING DEPARTMENT too small for you treacherous fucks to read? I feel like if Americans wanted a Department of Ignoring or Assisting Foreign Attacks, we’d ask for one.

Iowa Senator Joni Ernst, Kool-Aid dribbling down her chin like blood from a freshly-castrated hog, finally took that last sanity-and-decency-abandoning leap demanded by her death cult of a political party, spreading a vile coronavirus conspiracy theory, the kind of mendacious minimization that’s been getting Americans killed for six motherfucking months now. Of course, Joni doesn’t care that her lies will only further spread the virus and prolong the crisis, so long as she can trick juuuust enough rubes into ignoring the severity of her party’s disastrous mismanagement.

Say, this seems like a great spot to plug Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide, don’tcha think? If you haven’t yet adopted a few House/Senate races, our crack team of drunken researchers have assembled all the information you need to focus your donation budget, and seasoned that data with poo jokes. We’ve got an amazing group of incumbents and challengers, and on the other side are...wooooooo, plenty of creeps and loons who must be kept away from power at all costs. So check out the Guide, and spread it around!


So, Nancy Pelosi got a haircut, and, judging by the tantrums the right-leaning folks I went to high school with have been throwing, this haircut is a Very Big Deal, indeed an Infinitely Larger Deal than the botched pandemic response that’s claimed millions of jobs and tens of thousands of lives. Kids, I know it can’t be easy to run on your record when your record is a bucket of festering warthog anuses (and unpopular tax cuts for the wealthy!), but if you’re counting on Nancy’s salon trip to deliver you from your electoral woes, I’m afraid I’ve got some b...

...y’know what? Actually, knock yourselves out. It’s a Pelosi’s Hair election. Obviously. This issue is a goose that lays golden eggs while flawlessly performing oral sex. Promise. You can’t possibly lose.

Redactor General William Barr sat down for an interview with Wolf Blitzer, to parrot a few of his Turd Emperor’s favorite lies, on the alleged evils of voting by mail, and of course the complete absence of racism in American policing. Surprised he didn’t toss in a couple of Dr. Ronny Jackson’s greatest hits for good measure. Bilious Bill is certainly right at home in the Trump/McConnell post-truth, post-shame Republican Party; what does he care that the fact-checkers eviscerated his drivel? He’s the Attorney General and you’re not; so long as he wields that power, it will be wielded corruptly, and in service to institutional white supremacy. You’ve quadruple-checked that you’re registered to vote, right?

Running out of time and options, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot apparently figured his best shot at staying out of prison is getting the Children of the Candy Corn to vote twice. I wonder how Republicans will feel about sentencing reform next year when prisons start filling up with all the wee Shartkin drones eagerly committing this extremely-easy-to-detect felony?

‘Course, maybe he wouldn’t be up shit creek with only a paddle that’s way too big for his wee impotent baby hands if he didn’t constantly try to use the power of his office to fuck over American citizens who live in places that didn’t vote for him. This latest pathetic, extremely unconstitutional scheme, to pull federal funding from cities laughably designated as “anarchist jurisdictions,” only reminds the electorate that he’s a petty thug who despises most of us. SPEAKING OF WHICH...

Of course you’ve already seen Jeffrey Goldberg’s piece in the Atlantic, documenting the Bonespur Buttplug’s disdain for Americans who serve in the military, most particularly the chump losers and suckers who sacrificed their lives. It’s the portrait of a hopelessly broken, turd-souled rat of a man, who despises anyone better than himself*, for the unavoidable disgrace the comparison brings. No wonder he surrounds himself with ziplock-bags-filled-with-anal-leakage like Miller and Bannon.

The Veryfine Valor Thief denied everything, and I bet he wishes he hadn’t cried wolf over stupid shit like crowd sizes now. Anyway, outlet after outlet confirmed the story, up to and including Fux Nooz. At least the mystery of why the commander-in-chief doesn’t seem to care about Russia putting bounties on our troops has been solved.

If y’all don’t mind a segue from abominable disrespect to psychopathically misplaced respect, wingnut CongressDolt Thomas Massie felt the need to praise Teen Terrorist Kyle Rittenhouse, for showing “incredible restraint,” because he only ended two human lives, y’see, he “didn't empty a magazine into a crowd.” Tom. Bro. It’s ok, and actually super normal and healthy, to just say, “murdering people is bad and should be avoided whenever possible,” rather than appreciating Goldilocks for getting her killing spree just right.

It would be cool if there were just the one story this week about a Republican official normalizing political violence, but if there’s one thing 2020 is not fucking around about, it’s the bloodthirsty rage of the white and subpar. What I’m saying is, during this time of unrest and upheaval, when tensions have already boiled over into tragedy too damn many times, Louisiana Congressprick Clay Higgins felt it was extremely important that the world understand just how much he wants to mass-murder Black people.

When Facebook removed his post, (the one expressing his horniness to commit a mass shooting, specifically targeting African-Americans) Higgins felt this, too, was grounds for a lil’ homicidal ideation, and suddenly I’m concerned for the safety of every server who’ll ever have to take Clay’s burger back to the kitchen because it’s not cooked right.

Oddly, Higgins has never expressed a single word of disapproval towards any previous armed-to-the-teeth rage mob, even the one that stormed the statehouse in Michigan a few weeks back. Weird how it’s important to preserve the right to carry firearms openly when it’s a gaggle of spittle-drenched white dudes, but the minute Black folks avail themselves of the same rights, suddenly a U.S. Congressman feels completely comfortable publicly threatening to murder them.

Higgins was of course disciplined by House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, JUST KIDDING, Kev is too busy rolling out the red carpet for the Q-addled maniac(s?) set to join his Loser Death Cult Caucus next January.

Anyhoo, there’s certainly no better way to push back on a So the President Loathes the Troops scandal than by shutting down Stars and Stripes, the independent military newspaper dating back to the (first?) Civil War. This feels like a shitbag birthday present, an offering from the craven enablers in the Cabinet to their Hemorrhoid God, finally, a media outlet of his very own to crush.

UPDATE: I see Sharty McFly backed down on Stars and Stripes, so there’s some tangible good from a piece of high-quality reporting, even if it’s ultimately only done out of fear of further alienating a crucial voting block. I’ve learned to take victories wherever I fucking well find ‘em.

Shit, I better sign off while there’s still an up note to end on, you never know what that kooky fascist in the White House will do next, right? Actually feels kinda light tonight, which is great, I think we’ve all earned a little weekend. Stay safe out there, friends.

*Meaning, of course, nearly everyone 

Abort, My Antifa Comrades! Operation: Bags of Soup Has Been Compromised! (Ferret/Shower Cap)

I feel like I’m trapped on a deserted island with nothing to eat but clown meat, and the clown meat has started to go bad, y’know? Anybody else feel like that?

(Get this post, in color, with news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/abort-my-antifa-comrades-operation-bags-of-soup-has-been-compromised/)

So, we’re finally at the place we’ve sort of abstractly feared from the beginning: Government Cheese Goebbels, a cornered rat facing the loss of the office which is the only thing keeping him out of prison, is lashing out with everything he can get his (tiny, inadequate) hands on, and since he’s President of the United States, it turns out he can get his hands on a whole fucking lot of extremely dangerous shit, from his monstrous pulpit, to the innards of the U.S. Postal Service, to the uniformed thugs who, a seeming lifetime ago, gassed peaceful protesters in Lafayette Square.

And y'all don’t need me to tell you this, but living in America during the Turd Reich’s fascist death rattles is getting pretty goddamn awful. I fucking hate it here. Once this shit is all behind us, I intend to leave a lengthy Yelp review, I’ll tell you that right now.

But hell, while we’re all up anyway, let’s poke around in this Jurassic Park-sized turdpile. It’s not the most pleasant way to pass time, but nobody can call it boring.

Just to set the stage a bit, our poor, Covid-battered nation just celebrated its six millionth confirmed infection. I’m told the milestone patient was presented with a gilded ventilator and two free tickets to Shit I Forgot, Nobody Can Go Anywhere. Still, it’s gonna be zero cases soon. Any minute now, I promise. Right now, six million, with no end in sight, but zero soon. Two weeks. Would I lie to you?

So, the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, (Or ODNI, which is what Jawas say, right?) decided that now would be an appropriate time to halt in-person congressional briefings on foreign election interference, certainly an unconventional choice smack dab in the middle of an election the Russians are absolutely interfering in, according to our intelligence agencies.

Why, it’s almost as though DNI John Ratcliffe is the Louis DeJoy of the intel community, a reckless stooge dutifully carrying out his Turd Emperor’s command to corrupt or destroy whatever is necessary to maintain his tiny-fisted grasp on power. I liked it better when public servants served the public, instead of just one extremely shitty dude.

One of things that’s so strange, and so exhausting lately, is that generally speaking, it really is THAT BAD. Like, I had some bizarre, extremely specific fears at the start of this shitshow, and 2020 has blown them out of the water. 2020 openly taunts my 2016 fears. My 2016 fears were Classic Universal Monster movies, and 2020 is an ominously malodorous wastepaper basket filled with ideas cut from the Saw franchise for being too fucked up.

Because, yes, shit has finally turned violent, in a less scattershot manner than it’s felt like up to this point, anyway. Last week, a radical Trumpist committed an act of terror on American soil, killing two, and our ruling party has chosen to view that incident not as a tragedy, but as a most welcome opportunity to reverse their faltering political fortunes. The violence has been embraced, celebrated, and encouraged.

So it came as no surprise when a caravan of Trumpers drove into Portland, Oregon, firing paintballs and gas at people. It certainly came as no surprise when their provocations turned deadly. I mean, it’s fucking horrifying, watching news footage from an American city and likening it to images you remember from civil wars in third world countries, but surprising? Alas, no. Hey, somebody ask Susan Collins real quick if she still thinks the old fuck learned his lesson?

I guess there’s some really catty gossip about Melania in a new tell-all book from a former friend. Anyhoo, back to America’s shiny new sectarian violence problem:

It’s certainly been super fun watching segments of the right offering the Actually the Murders Committed by the Child Soldier Were Good take; normalizing political homicide is obviously the sort of thing that takes place only in extremely healthy societies.

So-called “Christian” charities have been raising funds for the young terrorist, and ok, I admit I’m an atheist, but I have retained some residual morality from the Sunday school lessons of my youth, and I’m sure I’d remember a bit where God went, “Blessed are the heavily armed teens who’ve been radicalized online, for they do murderously uphold institutional white supremacy.” I’m willing to be fact-checked on this one, however.   

And if I may be so bold as to segue over to a story about an ever-so-slightly different corner of the conservative donorverse, it turns out the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus has been, for quite some time now, accepting donations from known Nazis. Just to clarify, since I dabble in hyperbole here in this humble poo joke blog, yes, I am talking about literal, actual, card-carrying Nazis. Ok, I don’t know if they have physical cards. Everything’s digital nowadays, you probably just have to give your number at the register. But NAZIS is the point I’m trying to make here.

Anyway, those are two not-at-all related stories about the infrastructure financing Trumpism, from which no conclusions or inferences can be drawn, surely.

But it’s not just Hairplug Himmler’s bigotry and violent rage that’ve infected the entire conservative movement, the fascist tactics have trickled down as well. Look at Congressman Duke-Without-the-Baggage, excuse me, Congressman “Scalise,” who shared a doctored video in an attempt to smear Joe Biden, because nothing says “moral high ground” quite like misleadingly editing the technology-generated voice of a renowned health care activist suffering from ALS.

When it comes to fatal flaws, Fat Q*bert is Every Single Tragic Figure in Greek Drama Plus Shakespeare Passed Out in a Meth Lab, but few of his shortcomings have been as destructive as his pathological need to replace inconvenient truth-tellers with ass-slurping yes men.

He sidelines experts like Dr. Fauci in favor of festering ass pimples like Peter Navarro and the sheep-fucking MyPillow Guy, and that, dear friends, is how the richest, greatest country in human history finds itself brought low by a pandemic we absolutely could, and should have handled.

Now he’s bringing some herd immunity nitwit onto the team? Fucking WHY? It’s not like this shit is a mystery, other countries have figured out things that work. Let’s do those things, not the thing that is understood to kill millions of people. Like, hey, the toilet’s clogged, we should plunge it. “No, we should KILL MILLIONS OF PEOPLE instead.” Wait, what? No. NO. We should definitely at least try plunging it first. Right? RIGHT?

Ah, but then, the latest bit of viral madness to hit the always voracious right-wing misinformation market is the idea that COVID-19 isn’t really that dangerous, cuz the folks dying from it aren’t perfect specimens, fresh off the assembly line, they have underlying medical conditions. Like, sure, we’re looking at a 200,000-corpse mass grave after just a few months, but honestly, every one of them was just about to crumble to dust, so what’s the big deal? This “argument” seems sociopathically unhinged to me, but I’m told things look different when you’re in a death cult.

Anyway, so we’re in this zany place where the incumbent President has decided that inciting violence is good for him politically, and that’s both terrifying and weird, as far too many things are these days.

But we’re actually rather fortunate in our perpetually-underestimated presidential nominee here. For reasons that continue to perplex me, a lot of people seem to believe this is Joe Biden’s first rodeo, and folks, maybe you didn’t notice, but they named the ice cream stand at the rodeo after Joe Biden.

While Twitter-blind pundits spat out their breathless think pieces proclaiming Gameshow Göring had cleverly outflanked his opponent by, let me remind everyone, STOKING TERRORIST VIOLENCE, Joe strolled casually out to the lectern with that “I got this” energy we’re all growing to love and trust, and, just like at the DNC, he gave precisely the speech he needed to give, like he’s been doing for decades, I don’t know why this hasn’t sunk in yet.

“Do I look like a goddamn antifa generalissimo?” asked the incredulous former Veep, with more that a dash of sass. “I’m Joe Frickin’ Biden, America’s scruffy-but-lovable granddad, now come on in, take your shoes off, let’s get you some hard candy and health care.”

“Now, near as I can figure it, Dotard, your whole dumbass reelection strategy is to blame me for all the shit you fucked up. It’s Joe Biden’s fault your shitty loser cult is so violent? Do you need another cognitive test, old man? And before you even ask, I’m not the guy who shit in your diaper, either.”

Having been so thoroughly outmaneuvered, yet again, by the Biden Campaign, Team Shitweasel’s response, bafflingly, has been to screech JOE DIDN’T DENOUNCE ANTIFA I BET HE LOVES ANTIFA SOMEBODY TELL JILL HE’S GONNA ASK FOR A DIVORCE SO HE CAN MARRY ANTIFA!

And holy heck, we are adrift in Shitty Wonderland now, friends; we’re only gonna float further and further away from reality. Reality is where the coronavirus lives, y’see; Strawberry Shartcake doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance of winning reelection in reality, so he’ll be spending more and more time in...in wherever the fuck he was during that batshit interview with Laura Ingraham.

Watching him sit there, belching up the kind of garbage that typically comes out of background characters’ mouths in 50’s movies set in extremely non-politically correct mental institutions, just pure gibbering horseshit about how Portland, Oregon is a burning portal directly to Hell, overrun by satanic hippies who collect teeth from all the cops they butcher, you just wanted to grab him and force him to identify a drawing of a horsey, right then and there, in front of the world, because you knew there’s no fucking way he could have.

He goes on to rant and drool about the dark forces controlling Joe Biden, and even Ingraham is trying to get him to shut his fool mouth when he starts prattling on about a plane filled with sinister Librul Super-Rioters, which turns out to be from some squirrel-poop nutty Facebook conspiracy theory, anyway, vote for me, your crazy uncle from Olathe who doesn’t know how to filter information on the internet.

Still, while I’ve supported Biden for months, now that I know he’s just a figurehead for a shadowy cabal made up of ninjas, floating little fat people, and Snuffleupagus, I’m having second thoughts.

Getting back to the Manchurian Manchild...look, obviously you’re in complete control of the narrative when you’re denying, unprompted, that you suffered a series of mini-strokes. Still, every time he opens his mouth these days, he draws attention to the mysterious extinction-level event that’s clearly targeting his brain cells. Honestly, how many rambling monologues about wily Antifas wielding bags of soup do we need to hear before folks finally invoke the 25th Amendment?

Like, he’s tickled by this little dumbfuck metaphor he’s hit upon; he keeps comparing cops who shoot unarmed black people to golfers that choke on a putt. I swear to you, this is real, he’s really said this shit, out loud, in front of cameras, more than once. He also keeps on threatening the suburbs with the fearful specter of...Cory Booker, GOSH I WONDER WHAT THAT’S ALL ABOUT?*

And now we learn the Turdmaggot Administration won’t participate in the international effort to develop and distribute a coronavirus vaccine, aka the Single Most Important Thing in the Entire Fucking World, because he still thinks he has a shot at passing the buck for his catastrophically botched pandemic response to China and WHO. So, for the sake of a flimsy bit of bullshit transparent to all but the most devoted cultists, he cut the American people off from one of the best shots at a vaccine.

That’s how little he values our lives, folks. Every MAGA hat reads like “Cattle For Slaughter” to me. Fucking rubes.

Friends, I know I left some shit out tonight, but this is beyond all endurance. I need to spend the rest of the evening rocking back and forth on my kitchen floor, muttering “just soup for my family, kind sir, soup for my family” until I pass out. I don’t know why I need that, but I do. Stay safe out there, chums. Oh. The Action Guide. Don't forget the Action Guide!


*It’s racism. I wasn’t really wondering. I apologize for my dishonesty. 
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