TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalMerely Mildly Manic Monday: A Slow News Day Lately is Like Drinking Diet Bleach (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Y’know, this might be the shortest, lightest, blog I’ve ever written. Since last Friday’s update, the usually-ceaseless onslaught of insanity has been refreshingly mild. It’s been like being locked in a really upscale asylum for a change, instead of the bleak, 1960’s, Shock Corridor kind. The straightjacket is actually comfortable, almost snug, made from a soft cotton blend, why, it’s almost like being swaddled. And taking in the headlines today is merely like being rapped gently on the forehead by a pony’s hooves, rather than the kick square in the temple from an angry horse, like we’re used to. How soothing.
(You can get this special super-short post, WITH news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/merely-mildly-manic-monday-a-slow-news-day-lately-is-like-drinking-diet-bleach/)
I for one am getting quite sick of white nationalist marches, but it seems white nationalists have an insatiable appetite for marching, and they never ask me for permission, so we had yet another dickless white boy parade last weekend, in Washington, D.C. There were no Tiki Torches this time ‘round, though they did wear masks, giving thanks for the hard-learned lessons taught by their trailblazing predecessors, who lost their fast food/strip mall shoe store jobs so the dirtbags who came after them would not need to. Still, it’s odd, that they’re so proud of that white skin, yet simultaneously terrified to show it off in public.
Tom Cotton, aka The Senator From the Creepy Gas Station Down the Road From the Haunted House, is planning for the future! Tommy Boy saw all the headlines about that fancy new coronavirus, and with visions of inheriting the largest, pointiest, hat in all of Cult45 dancing in his little pin head, he said to himself, “say, now here’s an opportunity for some xenophobic fear-mongering!” Future Republican presidential primary debates are essentially going to be competitive hate-offs. Why not go full reality TV, in the spirit of the Velveeta Vulgarian himself? America’s Next Top Klansmen, er, “Republican Nominee!” Who can propose the biggest rollback of voting rights? Who can burn the biggest, brightest, cross? Who can spray paint the most anti-Semitic graffiti in the dead of night, without getting the cops called?
A small group of Republican Senators apparently rallied around a last-minute effort to protect Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman from Shart Garfunkel’s retaliatory wrath, out of respect for the Purple Heart recipient’s long and faithful service to the United S-hang on, that’s not right. Lemme try this again: “A small group of Republican Senators apparently rallied around a last-minute effort to protect mouth-breathing rich boy Gordon Sondland from Shart Garfunkel’s retaliatory wrath, because he’s a deep-pocketed GOP donor.” Yeah, I didn’t think that was right; in the initial version, it sounds almost like Ron Johnson and Susan Collins have principles, so I knew right away something was off.
If you see Rudy Giuliani screeching into one end of a tin can tied to a string, take comfort in knowing that were you to follow that string all the way to the end, the other tin can lies in the halls of the U.S. Department of Justice! Yes, Redactor General Billy Barr has helpfully set up a special “intake process” just for Trenchmouth McIncest's batshit anti-Biden conspiracy theories, and let me offer congratulations in advance to all the actual criminals who will now get to elude justice because law enforcement resources were diverted to investigating the voices that talk to Rudy through the fillings in his teeth.
And I see the Shart House rolled out their annual Holy Fuck You Sure Do Hate People budget proposal. A budget is a declaration of values, or some shit, that’s the saying, yeah? Well, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster’s values are (still) exactly what we thought they were; to the American people he says Eat Shit and Die But Also Please Gimmie Billions and Billions of Dollars for a Big Stupid Wall as a Monument to My Insatiable, Turd-Spewing, Ego Anyway Seriously Why Haven’t You Plebs Died Yet? The fact that the lion’s share of the proposed cuts would fall on the very voters who installed Hairplug Himmler in office in the first place might have provoked a dark chuckle or two, if I weren’t spending so much time these days vomiting in disgust.
But look, just because he’s proposing draconian cuts to the social safety net millions of Americans rely on and love doesn’t mean Fat Q*Bert’s tiny, inadequate, fingers aren’t comfortably positioned directly atop the pulse of the REAL MURICAN voter! You better look out, Dumbocrats, because while you’re bickering about Medicare for All, the opposition is consolidating the vote where it really counts: the pivotal, swingable, Pete Rose Should Be in the MLB Hall of Fame demographic! Look, while Donnie Dotard has abandoned many of the popular positions that helped him get elected, from lowering prescription drug prices to protecting Medicare and Medicaid, he’s been phenomenally consistent in his pro-cheating-and-stealing views.
Getting back to the Big Dumb Wall for a second, I see the government is now literally defiling sacred Native American burial sites, because hey, new depths of depravity aren’t going to just find themselves, y’know. Never have I wanted more to find a kernel of truth in all those old schlock horror films.
Now that Mitt Romney has demonstrated just enough love of country to tearfully proclaim that it was a hard decision for him, but yeah, maybe we should keep the Constitution and do at least some of what it says, his physical safety can no longer be guaranteed at the annual gathering of frothy ragemonsters known as CPAC. Surely MAGA nation would tear him limb from limb, if only because his mere presence would remind them of the last dying embers of their shame, their decency, and their humanity, and who wants that, especially over a weekend where the whole point is to cut loose and disappear into the hate mob?
But yeah, generally a slow news day. I did pop in on Tangerine Idi Amin’s latest public event long enough to watch him fantasize about expanding the death penalty so he could start stackin’ up drug dealers’ corpses; y’know, like in China. President of the greatest nation in the history of the world, and he’s still jealous of a petty thug like Rodrigo Duterte. Anyway, let me go on the record as formally against giving Donald Trump additional authority to execute people, and also against any moves towards making American government more China-like generally. These people are not to be trusted anywhere, least of all in the vicinity of slippery slopes.
Ummmm...yeah, that looks like basically it. The Oscars seem to have popped a bunch of veins in America’s most racist foreheads, that’s somethin’. The Dem primary is sucking up a lot of the air, and that’s not really what I do in this blog, so it’s been kinda light lately. Bear with me, I may need to make some adjustments, in terms of depth or frequency...I’ll figure it out.
Meanwhile, we are in the home stretch for the Kickstarter for my very first comic book, The Worth & The Cost (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost). It wraps up on Thursday morning, so this is your last chance to get in on it! You’ve all been insanely generous so far, and I’m beyond grateful for your help in making this very old dream of mine come true. Can’t wait to get the book home from the printer and share it with all of ya!
Well, the Week's High Points Were Mitt Romney and Joe Walsh, So I'm Ready to Move On, Thanks. (F/SC)
Rough week, Resisters. It’s no fun watching a 400-pound sack of monkey shit take a victory lap, is it? It makes a hyper-gross schlorping kind of sound, and the stench lingers for days. Well, this too shall pass, motherfuckers. Take my hand, and I’ll guide ya through the worst of it.
(As always, you can find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/well-the-weeks-high-points-were-mitt-romney-and-joe-walsh-so-im-ready-to-move-on-thanks/)
When last we met, we were on the very cusp of Hairplug Himmler’s final State of the Union address, which I confess I did not watch, because I had been blogging all day, and I didn’t want to ruin my evening’s drinking by pairing it with 90 minutes of the belchings and gurglings of a semi-sentient talking turd, forgive me. Anyway, you usually pick up the high points in the following day’s headlines, but Nancy Pelosi robbed President Crotchvoid of his precious publicity with a flick of her queenly wrist.
Yes, between the humiliatingly abysmal, you’re-no-Barack-Obama-and-it-shows ratings and the Paper Tear That Launched a Thousand Faux-Outraged Tweets, the contents of the Adderall-Addled Assclown’s speech (which I’m told was unusually hateful and unusually dishonest, even by his slug-that-lives-at-the-bottom-of-an-outhouse standards) faded away without notice. You know you suck when it only takes four short, sweet, simple, gestures to beat you at your own game.
Some members of the Republican Party, which, I’ll remind everyone, exists for no other purpose beyond helping the Trump family commit crimes, have latched onto the notion that Pelosi is guilty of illegally destroying government records, which seems laughably Orwell-for-dummies at this moment in time, but if we don’t eject these thugs from power, I doubt they’ll require stronger rationales once the show trials roll around. To be fair, as described above, Pelosi absolutely did destroy Fat Q*Bert’s speech in the public consciousness, but shredding photocopies is still legal, even if they’ve got shit all over them. Hope you washed your hands after, Madame Speaker.
Now, the one thing that did break through from the Shart of the Union was the bit where one racist scumfuck gave an award to another racist scumfuck, in celebration of their success in advancing the causes of racism and general scumfuckery. Of course, the Farthuffin’ Fascist corrupts everything he touches, but awarding odious hate-monger Rush Limbaugh the Medal of Freedom? Little on-the-nose, don’tcha think? Actually, it’s kinda perfect, now that I reflect on it. After all, what is Trumpism about except the “freedom” to be an absolute shitstain? The freedom to do nothing with your life except hurt people, and receive not comeuppance but fame and riches?
I guess he also delivered a second crazed, hate-filled, rant, this time at a prayer breakfast of all places, showing off the rot of his soul and the advancement of his metal deterioration, but y’know what? Fuck that speech, too. I don’t see any reason to continue allowing the rage-fueled mouth turds vomited up by a subpar golf cheat to pollute my precious brain space.
And though it was a touch anti-climactic, since everyone has known what the result would be for weeks, the official ending to the Senate’s sham impeachment trial came on Wednesday, and the verdict was...guilty on all counts! Oh, Sultan Spraytan got off, sure, but the Senate GOP caucus was found hellaciously guilty, of violating their oaths, of assisting the coverup of a criminal conspiracy against the United States and its citizens, of pretending the Constitution has a “just kidding about all this shit” clause tacked onto the end, of cowardice, of complicity, of corruption, of leaving the gate to American democracy unlocked overnight so that an authoritarian shitweasel could sneak in and raid the joint. The punishment is the disdain of all decent folk everywhere, and the inescapable, defeated, gaze of the shrunken nothing that looks back at them from every mirror. And hopefully the loss of the reins of power this November.
Among Republicans, only Mitt Romney managed to clear the atom’s-width-high hurdle of Acknowledging the Metric Fuckton of Evidence Sitting Right There in Front of Everyone’s Face, voting with unified Democrats to remove the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor from office. Of course now he’s facing the predictable calls for excommunication and public stoning. Look, I’m certainly no Willard stan, but hoo boy, give me ten thousands Romneys* before a party that gives mouth-breathing dolts like Matt Gaetz and Shartboy, Jr. veto power over the membership.
A new report shows hundreds of asylum seekers deported by the United States to El Salvador have been abused or murdered, and honestly, you have to wonder if everything that’s gone down these last few years isn’t just karma catching up to us.
And the Tiki Torch Parade Administration petulantly blocked residents of New York State from using Trusted Traveler Programs until the state government agrees to conform to Stephen Miller’s wettest dreams and implement his white nationalist deportation policies. Very cool to take these early steps down the path of separate privileges and punishments for red and blue states. Looking forward to having sewage from Alabama pumped directly into my living room** while the U.S. Postal Service intercepts mom’s care packages and diverts the precious chocolate crinkles to David Duke’s house.
The Treasury Department took a quick break from digging a shaft to the very center of the Earth, wherein they intend to construct a vault with twenty-foot thick vibranium walls, in which they will hide Shartolo Colon’s tax returns until the fucking sun burns out, to build scenery for a thrilling new theatrical endeavor from Grassley/RoJo productions: The Sham Investigation of Hunter Biden! I’m starting to understand why folks try so hard to get the fuck out of banana republics, aren’t you?
You’re never gonna believe this, but an internal report from Fux Nooz has discovered that the network has been platforming dishonest people who spread disinformation! AUDIBLE GASP! It’s like finding a secret memo from your cat revealing that she shits in a box. Still, if even the propaganda-spewing sewage pipe that is Fux has begun to realize “whoops, we did a Frankenstein,” maybe there’s hope that we can get this country back to a shared reality at some point before we fall into a deranged, permanent, coma.
Nobody tests the theory that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” more than deadbeat dirtbag Joe Walsh, god knows, but he’s dropped out of the rigged GOP presidential primary, calling his party a cult on the way out, and vowing to back any Democrat, even a socialist, come November. I guess we’ll call it the Coalition of the Decent Plus I Guess There’s Room for a Handful of Deeply Skeezy Creeps at the Back but Keep Your Mouth Shut and No You Don’t Get to Take a Turn Driving the Bus.
Checking in at the Things Susan Collins is Concerned About But Will Ultimately Enable Desk, Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman has been fired from his White House job, because once your pet Senate majority has made it clear you can run an international extortion ring with taxpayer money, well, retaliating against witnesses just ain’t no thang. The petty crimes will likely pile up quickly now; expect the shiniest exhibits in the Smithsonian to pop up in Bedminster and Marm-a-Lago by summertime.
Shit, the Bonespur Buttplug even fired Vindman’s twin brother, Yevgeny, just for spite. If anyone’s thinking that perhaps it isn’t in America’s national interest to allow a criminal and a traitor to purge the government of principled patriots in fits of vengeful spite, well, the likes of Senators Collins and Alexander have earnestly assured us that Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot had learned his lesson. They’re right, of course, only the lesson he learned is that he’s been elevated permanently above the law by his submissive swarm of sycophantic Senators, and Lamar? Susan? He couldn’t wait even a week before rubbing your noses in the unchecked power you so recklessly handed him. Who could have seen this coming except everybody?
And now I see Gordon Sondland has been purged, as well. For a doddering old man who can’t figure out how to close an umbrella, Government Cheese Goebbels is actually quite a swift learner, when he wants to be.
And Redactor General William Barr has proclaimed himself the sole arbiter of which presidential candidates and campaigns get investigated by the feds, and I’ll bet criminals all over the world are seething with envy at the bloated, subpar, crime lord who has his very own pet Attorney General to block for him. Hey, what good is power if you’re not willing to abuse it in order to ensure you never have to relinquish it, right?
Well, jeez, I feel kinda bad about this one, friends. Ugly-ass week. I’d be down in the proverbial dumps if I weren’t so thankful for all your kind support of the Kickstarter for my first comic book. Check it out, it’ll cheer you up. Well, it’ll cheer me up anyway...you’ll have to wait until it comes back from the printer, but it’ll cheer you up in a few weeks! Just five days remaining! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost
*Think of the stimulus to the car elevator construction industry!
**Is this code for “Jeff Sessions is crashing on my sofa?” I’ll never tell.
PS, I still don’t know what all these hearts are about, but thanks, y’all! It’s very kind!
Oh, You Can Have Your Iowa Caucus Results...IN HELL!!!! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Oh ho, and now the madness bleeds over onto the blue side of the field, how charming! I admit, I kinda liked having a little island of sanity to rest my weary head upon when necessary, but no, it’s caucus time, bitches, and nowhere is safe now! Sigh. Let’s do that thing we do.
(And yes, you can find this post, WITH nifty news links, on my site: http://showercapblog.com/oh-you-can-have-your-iowa-caucus-results-in-hell/)
Hot on the heels of the corrupt majority’s decision to magically transform the Senate impeachment trial into a government-sanctioned coverup with a flick of Mitch McConnell’s creaky, reptilian, wrist, the Department of As Much Justice as William Barr Will Allow revealed that they’re sitting on a couple dozen emails about the Ukraine scheme, some of which may even give insight into what was going on in the walnut-sized wad of half-chewed McDonald’s fries Donnie Dotard calls a brain. I mean, more evidence is always nice but the President’s guilt has been established several times over, we just have this nifty system where underpopulated regions like Wyoming and as many as seven different Dakotas get more representation than the places where people actually live, so it’s kind of up in the air right now, whether or not anything actually matters.
Lamar Alexander, embracing his new role as Lead Republican Bullshit Geyser, trundled out onto the Sunday Shoz to insist Government Cheese Goebbels has learned his lesson, and that he’ll surely think twice about committing any more crimes, or soliciting any more foreign interference in our elections. Lamar old boy, I feel like, in my position as a Drunken Yahoo in a Fetching Mask n' Bathrobe Combo, I should not be lecturing United States Senators on Things That Are Painfully Fucking Obvious, but the lesson he’s learned is that the Senate GOP Caucus is his personal private sea monkey tank, filled with crooks and cowards who will abuse the powers of their office to ensure he gets away with whatever felonies and treasons happen to strike his fancy. He’s dreaming about deploying the Marines to swing states to prevent voting in Dem-leaning districts by now, you useless, complicit, stooge.
Joni Ernst pulled a different disingenuous talking point straight out of the grand ol’ elephant’s ass, telling Jake Tapper that while she most certainly would not be fulfilling her oath to support and defened the U.S. Constitution, the record must be amended to show that she said both “tsk” and “tsk” to the Velveeta Vulgarian’s taxpayer-funded international extortion scheme, because in the end, actions are kinda silly, don’tcha think? WORDS, that’s where it’s really at.
Joni also shamelessly announced her party’s intention to impeach Smilin’ Joe Biden before he even has the chance to steam clean the smell of tanning lotion, hair tonic, and fast food flatulence out of the Oval Office curtains, because the standard is “we’ll burn, bury, or ignore any and all evidence of Republican wrongdoing, but for Democrats? An unsourced rant from some rando posting on 4Chan as QsFavoriteCuck is like unto a tablet Moses dragged down from the mountaintop.” I know I say it a great deal, but fuck these awful, awful, people.
Intimidated by the barrage of ads from Actual Billionaire Michael Bloomberg, Weehands McNodick comforted himself by making a couple of tired, lame, short jokes which frankly wouldn’t pass muster on any self-respecting grade school playground. If he has to stand on a box, Donnie, at least it’s a box of money, because Mike doesn’t have to lie about what he’s worth.
Well, Stephen Miller got his early birthday present, or late Xmas present, or Happy Anniversary of the Day Your Festering Hatred Flash-Fried Most of Your Hair Follicles gift, when Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot expanded his racist travel ban to six new nations, including Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy. It would be cool to have our executive branch acting in the national interest again, instead of ticking off items on the Charlottesville Tiki Torch crowd’s wish list.
Now, after three years of more or less constant bumbling, blundering, and general dumbfuckery, we have certainly learned to adjust our standards for the presidency. No longer do we expect the leader of the free world to, say, navigate a conversation with a fellow head of state without puking on her shoes, but surely even the guy who believes stealth planes are literally invisible can manage to sit in a chair for a few hours with a football game on without fucking TOO much shit up, right?
But no, King Midas Only With Turds somehow managed to turn the simple act of watching the Super Bowl into an Olympic-level gymnastic failure routine. How? Well, he started by sticking taxpayers with a $3.4 million bill, because he apparently can’t take in the big game without maintaining proximity to gold toilets and fake Time Magazine covers, necessitating a journey down to Marm-a-Lago.
Then he disrespected the national anthem, which is, of course, the one true cardinal sin for the American conservative movement, which will now finally begin abandoni-wait, hang on...I’m reading the fine print, aaaaaaand, yes, it turns out that rule is just for black people. I apologize for bringing it up.
And Shart Garfunkel held the traditional Super Bowl Sunday presidential sit-down with that weaselly Hannity fellow. I’d call it a softball interview, but...I don’t actually know the rules, do they give tongue baths in softball?
And then, yeah, he congratulated the champion Kansas City Chiefs for doing such a sweet-ass job representing the great state of Kansas, which, to his credit, is awfully close to where the Chiefs play, but which, in the end, remains an entirely different state than Missouri. It boggles the mind, how the simplest things elude him. How the living fuck do you fuck up a congratulatory tweet to a sports team? I bet if the 49ers had pulled it off, he’d just have shot out that list of slurs John Kelly had tattooed on his wrist, under the heading DO NOT SAY ON TV.
Oh, and he shelled out millions to broadcast the most despised ad of the entire game, a laughable attempt to cast himself as a champion of minorities and a uniter of families. May as well have tacked Ronny Jackson’s health report onto the end, so long as you were half-heartedly gaslighting, Shart-O.
Looking ahead to life after he cashes in the Get Out Impeachment Free Card Mitch gave him for Xmas (scribbled on the back of a corner Yertle tore off the Constitution, naturally), the Marmalade Shartcannon is making himself a lil’ ENEMIES LIST, how sassy n’ Stalinist of him! Yes, he’s looking for some excuse to lock Genocidal John Bolton and his Murderous Mustache away, and fuck him sideways for making me take Bolton’s side. Y’know, future Cult45 rallies will require detailed programs, so the slavering rube mobs don’t get confused while they’re chanting LOCK (target of today’s Two Minutes Hate) UP! “No, bro, we screech at Andrew McCabe later, we’re doing Bolton now!”
The Fascist Farthuffer, in one of the petulant tantrums he’s known for instead of any positive leadership qualities whatsoever seriously not even punctuality, banned CNN from attending a fancy pre-State of the Union lunch. Other networks attended, rather than showing solidarity in the face of this latest assault on the free press, because I guess sometimes you just have to politely hold the door of your own work camp bunkhouse open so it’s easier for the bastards to shove you through it.
So, can we finally stab, shoot, behead, draw-and-quarter, drown, and generally bludgeon the living fuck out of the Iowa caucuses now? And preferably also skullfuck the corpse before cremating it and scattering its ashes across the entire known universe to prevent the Iowa Caucuses from ever, ever, coming back? Not that I have a problem with a system that allows a Tiny Group of Privileged White Folks With Ample Spare Time to decide who gets to contend for the most important job in the world or anything, I just don’t want the future alien archaeologists who uncover our civilization to think we were really this stupid/insane/generally-deserving-of-mass-extinction.
Y’know, it’s not like the Rube Goldberg Democracy Distorting Machine we call the caucus is in any way a necessary evil. We already have a system that works, and works better; it’s called an election. It’s like trying to bake a cake, only instead of sticking to the recipe, you buy six pounds of sand, three mice, and a tuba, and you yell “YEAST” at them while rubbing boysenberry yogurt all over your body; it isn’t going to work, so why the fuck are you trying?
JUST HOLD A FUCKING ELECTION, is all I’m saying. And let me go officially on record as saying so, if only to impress the alien archaeologists.
And Susan Collins formally announced her retirement from the Senate today...she just doesn’t know it yet.
Anyway, I’m drafting this before President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster snarls his way through his last State of the Union speech, but I’m gonna ahead and say he lied a whole fucking bunch, and said a bunch of epically stupid shit, because I’m just fucking clairvoyant.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got for ya tonight. Little light, even with the extra day. I’m sure the madness will pick up again soon. And we’re heading into the last week for the Kickstarter for Cap’s first comic book...be sure to get in on that shit, all the kewl Resisters are doin’ it... (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost)
I've Read 25 Books About America...Fuck It, I'M PRESIDENT NOW! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Oh, hello! I didn’t hear you come in! I was out back, burying my country. Yeah, we’re gonna do a little service on Sunday, nothing fancy, but bring a casserole or a pie or something. Let’s round up the news real quick, because I have some serious drinking to get to.
(As usual, this post, WITH nifty news links, can be found here: http://showercapblog.com/ive-read-25-books-about-america-fuck-it-im-president-now/)
All hail Jared “the Shart of the Deal, Jr.” Kushner for rolling out his long-anticipated Middle East peace plan! Jar-Jar painstakingly transcribed Bibi Netanyahu’s wettest dreams onto the back of a cocktail napkin, handed it to the other stakeholders, and said “take it or leave it, dorks!” Careful, Jared, if you win a Nobel before your stool-sample-in-law, holidays could get awkward real quick.
Oddly enough, the “plan” was immediately rejected by the Palestinians, but that’s when the master negotiator played his trump card; rising to his full height and unleashing the power of a voice that would perhaps seem commanding in a room filled with marmots, Kushner proclaimed, “I have read five-and-twenty books on the subject of Israeli-Palestinian relations, and thus, by the ancient laws of our forefathers, you must - hey. Hey, stop laughing. I read 25 books! Ok, 19 books and a few pamphlets, but STILL! Do you know how long that takes? A LONG TIME STOP LAUGHING AT MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
A collection has been taken up backstage at Fux Nooz, to replace all the veins that popped in Sean Hannity’s forehead when he found out Mitt Romney would vote to allow witnesses at the impeachment trial. Erecting even the tiniest speed bump in the Turd Emperor’s coverup highway, in the name of truth, or the rule of law, or even just putting on a respectable show before caving, is now an excommunicable sin for Cult45. Indeed, no sooner was the final vote cast, than Willard was formally disinvited to the annual gathering of rabid assclowns known as CPAC. Party in the Romney family car elevator that weekend!
America has never been more divided, and this week even saw the rise of two competing metaphors for the buffoonish failure of Trumpism via the Big Dumb Border Wall. Countless Americans think the “newly-installed border wall panels blew over in the first strong wind and landed in Mexico, which did not pay for them” story is more fittingly hilarious, while rival factions prefer to point and laugh at the “enormous floodgates, which must be left wide fucking open for months, rendering the Wall completely ineffective as a wall, will be required to keep the Wall from falling over” story. My friends, we must not let our differences tear us apart. Let us join hands, and mock both these failings with one, unified, voice.
Now, Team Treasonweasel’s legal defense team did, in fairness, face an impossible task in the impeachment trial, what with their client’s obvious, documented, guilt and all. It was all fun and games, watching them hem and haw and screech and moan and trip over their ridiculous arguments, until Alan Dershowitz came along with his mega-creepy “The Donald is the state and thus all acts which inconvenience him even slightly are treasons, I’m looking at YOU, Guy Who Designed the Golf Pants That Make His Ass Look Big.” Yes, Alan is looking for a king to crown, declaring crimez aren’t crimez, so long as the criminal views his re-election as being “in the national interest.”
Dersho is always extremely eager to dismiss serious wrongdoing, ain’t he? Wonder what that’s all about? “Surely, if the President decided that receiving a massage from a minor at a known sex trafficker's house was in the national interest, that would be no crime, so long as he kept his underwear on! And actually, if he didn’t strictly ‘keep his underwear on,’ and if there were, say, ‘photographs of him committing sex crimes in someone’s safe’ would that not also be in the national interest? Asking for a friend.”
I see Over-Juiced Prune Wilbur Ross woke up just long enough for some unseemly drooling over the opportunities presented by the coronavirus outbreak to further line his tomb with precious jewels and exotic foreign spices, because he is a ghoul whose heart pumps not blood but viscous distilled greed.
In the midst of all this this apocalyptic, Will Democracy Even Survive news, let’s pause to appreciate the fact that the entire institutional Republican Party has debased itself and abandoned every principle for a drooling manchild who honestly seems to believe that our stealth fighters are literally invisible. Like Wonder Woman’s plane.
Onetime Whistleblower Advocate Rand Paul now devotes himself full time to outing, stalking, and otherwise harassing the alleged whistleblower in the Ukraine affair. Rand wants to out the whistleblower like that one rabbit wants a big fat fuckin’ bowl of Trix, y’all. Rand Paul broke into the whistleblower’s house, opened the fridge, stuck his dick in the ranch, and then left a note on the fridge reading “I stuck my dick in one thing in your fridge, but I won’t tell you which one, Mister Whistleblower Man, HAPPY HUNTING!” Stuck the note to the fridge with the whistleblower’s favorite magnet, a souvenir from REDACTED, too. Ass.
For those who follow the news cycle ‘round the clock, there was a fun little stretch Thursday evening when retiring Senator Lamar Alexander teased everyone that, free as he now is from the burdens of electoral politics, he might just behave honorably and provide a key vote to hear witnesses in the impeachment trial. Lamar chuckled to himself at the futile hopes of the peasant classes, before taking his evening constitutional along the banks of the Potomac, tossing a pillowcase filled with newborn puppies into the river, as is his custom. Tell you what, next time you feel like waiting for Lamar freakin’ Alexander to do the right thing, I’ll wait for Godot, and we’ll race.
Indeed, Alexander busted out the special occasion, artisanal, straight-from-the-doomsday-prep-bucket-he-bought-from-Glenn-Beck salt to rub into America’s wounds, saying, “We don’t need to see witnesses because the House totally made their case; Tangerine Idi Amin did everything he’s accused of, I just don’t give a fuck, and I’m a Senator and you’re not, serrrrrrrrrrrfs!”
To be clear, Lamar’s spin here is that while illegally withholding congressionally-appropriated military aid from a besieged ally in order to blackmail them into fabricating dirt on a domestic political foe does indeed register on the Noot Gingrich Naughtiness Scale, it does not qualify as an “impeachable offense.” See, an impeachable offense would be like if Barack Obama changed lanes without using a turn signal, or if Donald Trump ordered the Air Force to drop a nuclear bomb on Boston. Maybe not that second one.
Marco Rubio took the craven cowardice even further (truly, he is a master of the form, the Da Vinci of Disappointment, the Stravinsky of Sycophancy, the Botticelli of Crawling on his Belly) mumbling something about how just because a presidential crime spree is technically impeachable doesn’t mean the cheap thug president should actually be removed, I mean, what if he LIKES committing crimes and extorting allies? Anyhow, it turns out that the Florida state Constitution doesn’t actually stipulate that their Senators must legally possess vertebrae, so I guess Marco’s safe for now.
But the Gaslighting Gold goes to Lisa Murkowski, who voted against a fair trial because, she claimed, the trial wouldn’t be fair. Seriously. Zombie George Orwell crawled out of his grave and shambled over to her office just to shake her hand for that one. Yes, Murkowski, having spent the past three years observing, and frequently assisting her colleagues as they’ve assaulted the fundamental structures of American democracy with sledgehammers and power saws and, ahem, tiki torches, now expresses shock and outrage that our institutions have failed. Gosh. Lisa should write her fucking Senator.
“Let the Voters Decide (Not the Black Ones, Obviously)!” some Republicans cry, invoking Federalist No 22.65, which states “Oh fuck yea, the President can commit all the crimes he wants in an election year, or, y’know, the year before an election year, or really whenever, so long as your whole party is a hopelessly corrupt flock of traitors.” Anyway, they know their excuses are bullshit, they just don’t care. They have a massive multimedia propaganda-and-smog-spewing machine doing their bidding; millions of Americans haven’t heard a shred of the evidence against Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot; instead, they’re getting fed memes of Adam Schiff’s face on a donkey’s butt or some shit.
It’s not even party before country. It’s Oozing Pile of Festering Pubes Pulled From the Bathtub Drain Plus There’s a Tumor in the Center before country. All available polling, and there was a fuckton of it, showed overwhelming public support for calling witnesses, the kind of numbers you usually only see for secret Beyoncé album drops and new marshmallows in Lucky Charms. These fucks understand they don’t have the will of the majority of the American public; they’re going with other tactics now. Gerrymandering, voter suppression, poll taxes, foreign interference, disinformation campaigns...and there’s no reason to imagine they’ll stop there.
...you’d hate to see, like, the world’s eighth-greatest deliberative body, right? Like, the Lord of the Flies kids have gotta be in the top ten, by the standards we’re using. But the joke’s on you, Republican enablers! Since you’re too lazy to even put a show trial (outworked by the North Koreans? Embarrassing!) actual exoneration is impossible! All you’ve accomplished is getting the stench of Shart Garfunkel’s corruption all over yourselves...and it never washes out, campers. “Trump stooge” will be the lead in every one of your obituaries.
You have to wonder if future generations of Americans will debate the ethics of traveling through time to smother Baby McConnell in the crib, or at least leave some ethics-based children’s books nearby.
And the Bolton leaks just keep on coming, like poo squirts from a genocidal diaper. Tearing down the mile-high walls of bullshit being constructed by desperate Republicans, what we ultimately have in John-John is an eyewitness to a vast criminal conspiracy operating out of the Oval Office, the biggest scandal in American history, and thanks to procedural loopholes and parliamentary shenanigans, Senators are legally allowed to refuse to hear his testimony. NEAT. We also discovered that Pusillanimous Pat Cipollone isn’t just the lawyer for the Hair Club for Traitors, he’s also a co-conspirator!
...I’m still not buying your fucking book, jackass.
But Murderstache isn’t the only one thirsty to testify. Lev Parnas is apparently stumbling around D.C., offering armloads of evidence to anyone who’ll listen, including a recording of him chillin’ with the Marmalade Shartcannon himself, and folks, if a third-rate goon like Parnas can record the President of the United States, the issue isn’t whether the pee tape is real, it’s whether the pee tape isn’t merely the (yellow snow) tip of the iceberg when it comes to blackmail-worthy recordings of the Kompromat Kid.
Brexit was today too? Lordy. It’s the Year Zero of a whole new dirtbag white boy calendar.
And just to take one last dump on today’s turd sundae, I see President Crotchvoid is bringing land mines back. Fucking LAND MINES.
Pretty shitty day, folks, one of the darkest in American history. We’ve known all along the Senate GOP was gonna drive Fat Q*Bert’s getaway car, but it’s still quite something to watch the fucks sell out their country in real time. Can’t say I’m a fan.
So, here we are. We’re the only party that believes in the foundational principles of the United States of America. Fuck, we’re the only party with principles of any kind. It's gonna be one helluva fight, friends. Still, we have literally 100% of decent folks on our side, and that's not nothin'. I dunno about you, but I really feel like kicking a white supremacist hate cult’s ass right now. So here’s the plan:
Take their power away.
Never give it back.
(And if you’re looking for something to help you unwind as you battle for your nation’s soul, why not buy...MY COMIC BOOK? Yeah, it’s an inappropriate time, but I’m gonna shill my shit. Sue me.)
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost?
At the Dawning of the Age of Impeachment, a Murderstache Shall Guide Them! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
I tell you what, friends, a trial in a culture where the people inhabit two separate realities is the best idea Lewis Carroll never had. It would be fascinating if it weren’t for the whole Hey Maybe We Don’t Have a Functioning Constitution Anymore aspect of it, which really shits in my beer, y’know? Well, Happy Monday anyway, let’s chronicle this garbage.
(And yes, as always, you can get this post WITH news links, at: http://showercapblog.com/at-the-dawning-of-the-age-of-impeachment-a-murderstache-shall-guide-them/)
In a bit of laughably disingenuous pre-coordinated bullshit the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Brooks Brothers Riot or the Bowling Green Massacre, Senate Republicans engaged in a little theatrical whinging, sort of the political equivalent of every over-serious audition-room rendering of On My Own. The idea seems to be that Adam Schiff, in referencing last week’s widely-reported “head on a pike” story during his closing statement, hurt their senatorial fee-fees so much that they’re now basically allowed to ignore the House’s entire flawlessly-constructed case, and also have their moms take them out for ice cream.
Oklahoma’s Jaggy Jim Lankford practically tripped over his own feet in search of the first available television personality to somberly inform that he was indeed “visibly upset,” by Schiff's line, a totally normal bit of human speech to describe a totally normal bit of human behavior. I myself was audibly repulsed by Lankford’s phony posturing, by which I mean it led me to release an unusually exuberant fart. My cat, it must be stated, was forced to briefly leave the room.
Did any of these mortally offended Senators express the slightest bit of outrage and indignation when news of Pikegate initially broke? Oddly, not one of them uttered a peep. Weird that the story only became offensive once they found a context to weaponize it against Dems and impeachment, isn’t it?
Almost as weird as the sudden swell of senatorial silence when Hairplug Himmler used his Twitter platform to insult, and indeed, threaten America’s Handsomest Patriot Man, Mr. Adam Schiff. Decorum, it seems, is for play-acting in front of the teevee cameras, not for the real world, with all its messy stochastic terrorism and whatnot.
You could be forgiven for missing Team Treasonweasel’s opening arguments in the impeachment trial. Basically the lawyers belched up a few tired, half-hearted, lies, and then Jay Sekulow took a dump on the floor and Pat Cipollone sculpted the turd into a little poo snowman, stuck some googly eyes on it and proclaimed it the God of Exoneration, and bellowed that it told them Littlefinger was innocent, and then Sekulow and Cipollone sacrificed their dignity and their reputations to the Turd God in thanks.
Truly there is no better messenger for Trumpism than Paula “Give me your January salary, no really, just give it to me, no, you won’t get anything back, I would just like a pile of free money please” White, Tangerine Idi Amin’s “spiritual advisor.” (By the way, you are super-shitty at that job, Paula. The old bastard’s spirit is a cancer-ridden cockroach marinating in hooker piss) White made the extremely Christian prayer for God to terminate any and all “satanic pregnancies” whatever those are. Now, I’m sure Paula spends no small amount of her time fantasizing about wielding the power to choose precisely which pregnancies are sufficiently godly as to be allowed to come to term, but yeah, we’re at the “evangelicals praying for mass abortion” stage of the ride, and I would very much like to be let off now, thank you.
While we’re on the subject of religious loons, Demented Faux Christian Hate-Monger Rick Wiles’ “TruNews,” a nutjob site famous for its anti-Semitism and also its further anti-Semitism, got press credentials from the Shart House itself to “cover” President Crotchrot’s annual Embarrass the Fuck Out of America trip to Davos. Y’see, the Grand Wizard Grifter wasn’t making an offhand remark when he referred to the white nationalist Charlottesville marchers as “very fine people;” it is in fact one of his few deeply-held core beliefs.
Malicious, Manic, Moody, Mobster Mike Pompeo apparently felt America had paid insufficient attention to the juvenile tirade he unleashed on NPR’s Mary Louise Kelly, and so he doubled down (presumably Pompeo’s duties as Secretary of State are being handled by a ficus while he focuses on this tantrum), releasing a childish little follow-up statement, accusing Kelly of lying (she had receipts, of course) and even going so far as to suggest she had failed his famous Point At This Unlabeled Map I Keep Around at All Times to Pick Fights With Because I’m Emotionally Stunted test, and confused Ukraine with Bangladesh. Yes, this is same Mary Louise Kelly with a degree in European Studies. From Cambridge. And the same Mike Pompeo who believes in the rapture. If we’re having an intellectual pissing contest, that is.
Lordy, Pompeo has now gone so far as to kick a different NPR reporter off the flight for his upcoming Europe trip, as well as rescinding all NPR staff’s invitations to his birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese’s, where there’s gonna be Skee-ball and three different kinds of cake. Gettin’ sick of loser fascism, here. Anyway, what does the Bible say about being a petty, vindictive, lying, brat, Mikey?
The Bowing and Scraping event at the 2020 Olympics is certainly going to be competitive, with all 53 GOP Senators looking like strong contenders, and that’s before factoring in dark horses like Jefferson Beauregard Sessions th’Third, desperately seeking his old job on a “Donald Trump fed me shit for two years before finally firing me, and I’m begging you for the opportunity to gorge myself on turds again, vote Sessions, spines are liberals!” platform.
But don’t sleep on Arkansas Senator Tom Cotton, though, defenestrating his fellow veterans with nary a nanosecond’s hesitation, all to back up Strawberry Shartcake’s vile dismissal of service members’ traumatic brain injuries as Wuss Wounds. When Tom runs for president someday, and he will, make sure voters remember his cowardice and stoogery during this time when America desperately needed leaders.
And then there’s the Tale of John Bolton and the Smoking Stache. Yes, Bolton’s forthcoming book, which he desperately wants folks to buy but which we will not buy, because fuck you you genocidal maniac is why, reportedly contains a passage saying hell yeah, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot told Bolton directly that he was withholding military aid from Ukraine until Zelensky and co. agreed to personally check both under the bed and inside the closet for the Big Bad Biden that frightens him so. And Republicans are frankly exhausted, because goalposts are big and heavy, and they really thought they’d get to leave them at “well, we haven’t heard from anyone who heard quid pro quo directly from Trump, so NOTHING MATTERS HAW HAW HAW,” at least for a while, and now they have to start spinning new bullshit excuses for betraying their oaths and their country.
...and suddenly the field for those Bowing and Scraping medals got even more crowded. Missouri’s Roy Blunt isn’t going to let a silly ol’ thing like Still More Damning Evidence Confirming All of the Previous Damning Evidence get in the way of his life’s work, which is now nothing more than Helping Donald Trump Get Away With Crimes, Mamma Blunt must be so proud of her boy. Even shiny new Senator-by-appointment Kelly Loeffler got into the obsequious disinformation game, popping her gaslighting cherry faster than any GOP official to date. And Joni Ernst couldn’t stop herself from giddily snickering that the impeachment trial gave Government Cheese Goebbels just what he wanted; a platform to spread malicious, debunked, propaganda about Smilin’ Joe.
But the Bolton evidence remains, and the American public knows about it, so I’m not sure what the Senate GOP imagines it’s getting away with by blocking his testimony. Just another smoking gun to throw on the pile with all the other smoking guns, I suppose. Seems like I have to shovel smoking guns off of the driveway every six hours or so, just to get the car out.
Ken Starr stood on the floor of the Senate to rail against impeachment, and I’m starting to understand that while modern conservatism offers little in the way of policy solutions for any of America’s urgent problems, it does seem to promise freedom from shame, and I kinda get that; I probably would’ve signed right up if they’d recruited me with that pitch that one time in high school when I absentmindedly starting singing along, out loud, to “Sweet Transvestite” on the bus on the way to the bowling alley for gym class. Trumpian shamelessness sure would’ve come in handy that week.
Starr insists there’s just too dang much impeachment these days. It’s like Starbucks, you drive by a dozen different impeachments on the way to work. He’s right, too. I recently impeached an oatmeal raisin cookie I accidentally purchased, believing it to be a chocolate chip cookie, but I couldn’t get the votes for removal because Roger Wicker is a fucking puppet for Big Raisin.
And Pam Bondi, who is literally famous for taking a bribe from Donald Trump, used her time to push out-of-date conspiracy theories that even Pizzagaters would admit were beyond stale. I didn’t pay much attention, honestly, but I think the gist was that Hunter Biden killed Christ, or maybe JFK, whatever. Also, nepotism is apparently bad, except, as article 6.2 of section Q of the Constitution clearly states, when the president’s son-in-law sells state secrets to the Saudi government in order to pay off family debts.
Anyway, today, the legal team representing the President of the United States unashamedly parroted Russian propaganda, to Putin’s delight, in defense of that very President, in case you’re wondering why the Lincoln Memorial is weeping tears of blood.
What happens next? Trapped as we are in this Turd Circus, who the fuck knows? It’s looking more and more like there could actually be enough GOP votes to call Bolton as a witness, but the Cowed Accomplice Caucus keeps making noises about calling retaliatory witnesses of their own, a list which may or may not include Joe Biden, Hunter Biden, Huey, Dewey, & Louie Biden, Adam Schiff, Barack Obama, Joe Biden But With a Goatee (from the Mirror Universe), A Honey-Baked Ham, Whoever It Was Who Told Ted Cruz He Looks Good With That Beard, Banana Fana Fo Fiden, Aquaman, and Oh Let’s Say Moe Biden.
And look, we even got an additional treacherous teaser for Bolton’s book, just as tonight’s draft was nearing completion.
But don’t buy Bolton’s book, BUY MINE. Yes, the Kickstarter for Cap’s very first comic is still live, (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) and we’ve attracted quite a little audience of Resisters! Get in on it, friends, your support thus far has already been amazing, and I can’t wait to share the finished product with you!
If Paul Simon Wrote a Song About GOP Senators, It Would Be "53 Ways to Fail Your Country" (Ferret)
Hey everybody, I almost hate to interrupt whatever filthy, steamy, sex fantasies y’all are no doubt having about Adam Schiff right this very minute, but I figured we should round up the news real quick before disappearing back into his righteous embrace...ohhhhhh Adam, you’re so...thorough, oh...Um. Excuse me. Anyway, the blog:
(You want the blog with the links? Click here: http://showercapblog.com/if-paul-simon-wrote-a-song-about-gop-senators-it-would-be-53-ways-to-fail-your-country/)
The thirty-four American service members diagnosed with traumatic brain injuries in the aftermath of Iran’s recent missile strikes will no doubt be pleased to learn from their draft-dodging Commander-in-Chief that their injuries are sissy, girly, injuries that do not count, so please keep it down about the whole “lifetime of pain and other challenges” thing you’re facing. For a dude who lacks the courage to so much as sit for an interview with a real journalist outside the right wing dumbassosphere, the Bonespur Buttplug demonstrates unseemly confidence in judging the Americans who risk their lives defending his right to golf every weekend at taxpayer expense.
At Davos, during a break from being ignored by people who don’t have to lie about their wealth, the Candycorn Skidmark confessed to, and even bragged about, obstructing Congress, which is of course one of the very articles of impeachment against his treasonous ass. This shit must drive legitimate criminal masterminds nuts, y’know? Imagine you spent months pulling off the perfect, brilliant, heist, some real Steven Soderbergh shit, but you can’t ever tell anybody how you did it, while this mushbrained dolt gets to strut around, squawking, “We have all the material cuz I didn’t turn it over ME AM SO SMRT” just because he has 53 pet Senators.
Perhaps worried that the three-day-long, televised, deep dive into his many crimes would render him TOO popular, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot decided, unprompted, to remind America that, like a children’s cereal mascot who can’t wait for the poors to just die off already, he’s just Cuckoo for Entitlement Cuts. In the end, for all his flaws, I have to concede that Donald Trump is perhaps the most effective anti-Trump messenger available to the Resistance.
Tulsi Gabbard continued her pursuit of her bizarre What if You’re Kind of a Democrat But You Hate Democrats and Also Luv Dictators brand (it’s kinda like Goop, but angry), announcing a big ol’ frivolous lawsuit targeting Hillary Clinton. Really looking forward to regular updates on this case on the Tucker Carlson White Power Hour.
And then there was the whole “impeachment trial” thing, I suppose I should mention that. Democratic impeachment managers made you proud to be an American, and prouder still to be part of the sole major American political party that still believes in honesty, decency, the rule of law, constitutional separation of powers, and I’m pretty sure I heard Mike Pence say “Apple pie sucks” the other day. Shit, next to the shrieking mendacity of the likes of Pat Cipollone and Gym Jordan, just the competence is fucking inspirational, and you can’t help but appreciate the work our team has put into laying out their case, clearly and concisely.
Of course, Senate Republicans are awfully pissy that they have to sit through all this meddlesome “evidence” and “proof of their shameful complicity,” because it’ll undermine their ability to go on pretending they’ve been too busy to keep up with the biggest political scandal of their lifetimes. Of course, “I was asleep when that particular damning bit of evidence was mentioned,” remains a viable copout, along with “I was in the cloakroom,” and “I was flat out reading a fuckin’ book instead.” Ah, if only there had been fidget spinners in the days of Ancient Rome, Nero wouldn’t have needed to learn to fiddle.
Historians will mark this as the week when the Most Susan Collins Thing Ever occurred. In the middle of the the impeachment trial, Susan heard something from Democratic impeachment manager Jerry Nadler that shook her to her useless, pearl-clutching, core; no, it wasn’t any of the evidence of Hairplug Himmler’s crimes or betrayals, it was that Nadler was a big ol’ meaniepants in pointing out the Senate GOP is assisting the Trump Administration’s coverup JUST BECAUSE the Senate GOP is assisting the Trump Administration’s coverup. And so she tattled to Chief Justice John Roberts. Leave it to Susan Fucking Collins to haughtily whinge about decorum while her party conspires to end democracy in America. Sara Gideon’s first term can’t start soon enough.
One excuse, pardon me, one “argument” Republicans are taking out for a test spin is that the Shart House will simply invoke executive privilege if witnesses are called, potentially drawing out the trial for months, when they’d really much rather get back to the important work of ignoring the hundreds of bills Nancy Pelosi and the House have sent them. It’s a bullshit argument, of course, but I suppose they can’t quite bring themselves to utter the real truth out loud, but wouldn’t it be something to watch, say, Josh Hawley sneeringly proclaim, “Yeah, we’re letting it all ride on our brainwashed rube base! We’re hopin’ to squeeze at least one more term out of the dying gasps of white supremacy! Shit, Fux Nooz isn’t even broadcasting the trial, we can say whatever the fuck we want and they’ll still love us and hate you! Nothing matters! BYE!”
Lindsey Graham doesn’t want any additional witnesses at the impeachment trial, instead preferring a quick acquittal, even* in the face of overwhelming evidence of Dorito Mussolini’s guilt. What he DOES want is an official government investigation into the President’s political rivals, based on widely-debunked conspiracy theories. This is because Lindsey Graham is a fascist, working to destroy our Constitutional democracy in order to ensure his party stays permanently in power, whatever the will of the people. Jokes will return in the following paragraph, this one is just for ugly, horrifying, truths.
Marsha Blackburn, who has become a United States Senator despite a career more or less indistinguishable from That One Guy Who Sets Up a Microphone on Campus to Scream at Everyone Who Walks By That They’re Going to Hell, embraced some casually fascist tactics of her own, impugning the patriotism of Purple Heart recipient and impeachment witness Alexander Vindman. I suppose there are two ways of looking at this; either you believe America is America, or you believe America is a dirtbag game show host who stole money from charity to buy an ugly-ass painting of himself. There. Both sides. Chuck Todd would be proud.
Word is, the Treasonweasel Administration has threatened the already thoroughly-cowed Senate GOP Caucus to continue enabling the Emperor of Hemorrhoids’ every criminal whim, or “your head will be on a pike.” Whatever. Not like there’s anything worth preserving in those 53 empty craniums.
Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag became the latest prominent conservative goon to slip a quarter in the self-owning machine we call Picking a Fight with Greta Thunberg, demanding the teenager procure an economics degree before bothering bought-and-paid-for climate deniers like himself with her pesky facts. Yes, this is the same Steve Mnuchin who thinks the Trump tax cuts paid for themselves, and that his horrible wife didn’t marry him for his money.
Huge embarrassment in Shartopia today, as a heretofore unknown recording of Donnie Two-Scoops’ failed Sopranos audition surfaced, and boy, is it ev-excuse me, what? The tape is actually real, and it captures the President telling Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman, “Take her out,” apparently referencing Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch? ZOUNDS.
The more charitable voices in the news interpret this as a command to fire Yovanovitch, which might make sense if he gave it to whichever sycophantic peon happened to be acting chief of staff at the moment, rather than a room full of cheap thugs, many of whom are currently facing some rather significant criminal charges. Shit, even Mulvaney would need further clarification. “Get rid of her? Like, GET RID OF HER get rid of her?”
Upon hearing of this new bit of documented thuggery, John “Yes, Wyoming gets two Senators even though we have fewer voters than Coachella has hipsters” Barrasso, shrugged, “There will be new evidence every day. There will something new that comes out every day,” as though this was a reason to dismiss the charges against the Offal in the Oval, rather than investigate further. There’s SO much evidence of criminal wrongdoing we should let the man get on with his crimes, is the idea. It seems. This is real life, folks. I know it feels sometimes like we’re trapped in a nightmare George Orwell is having after losing a spicy-hot-wings-eating contest, but it’s real fuckin’ life.
Seems Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo does not enjoy the press, with all their uppity demands for “answers to questions” and “accountability,” as demonstrated by the petulant tantrum he threw at an NPR reporter. To me, Mike is the scariest member of the entire Turd Reich; no, he’s not as wily or effective as Bill Barr, but he possesses the zealot’s conviction that God will stay on his side through whatever atrocities he may perpetrate, and is, if anything, a little irritated with him for holding back up to this point. Look in his eyes when he’s facing the press; this is a man fantasizing about camps and gallows.
And now I see the Velveeta Vulgarian literally stole the fucking Starfleet insignia from Star Trek as the logo for his idiotic “Space Force,” and we really need to get rid of this clown before he starts appointing Ninja Turtles to the cabinet.
Alright, everybody, that’s what I got. Steer clear of exotic new viruses this weekend! Oh, and please donate to the Kickstarter (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost )for my very first comic book! All the cool Resisters are doing it, y’know!
*especially
Warning: Literally Every Conceivable Impeachment Trial Drinking Game Will Quickly Prove Fatal (F/SC)
Well, my shit-kickin’ Resistance chums, the impeachment trial is finally here! Never has the stark divide between our bleeding nation’s rival realities been clearer. We have the truth, honor, decency, and justice on our side, but sometimes I confess I’m a little jealous of the drugs they’ve got over there in Shitty Wonderland; it looks like a really intense, if angry, high. Okay, let’s round this shit up, shall we?
(As usual, you can find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/warning-literally-every-conceivable-impeachment-trial-drinking-game-will-quickly-prove-fatal/)
Missed this one last time out, but didja see where the National Archives blurred images from the 2017 Women’s March that contained criticism of a certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor, in the latest Dirtbag Orwell Theatre attempt to pretend maybe the point of the whole dang gathering was to protest Netflix losing Scrubs or some shit? I mean, if we’re editing out anti-Shart content now, future generations are gonna think the period between 2016 and 2021 produced nothing but beer commercials, K-pop, and movies where white people belligerently insist upon “saving” jazz.
Lots of folks think Hairplug Himmler is a recklessly impulsive toddler, careening from crisis to crisis without reason or rhyme, not only incapable of thinking six moves ahead, but mostly just interested in seeing how many pieces he can fit up his nose; in fact, he’s already planning for his post-presidency, trying with all his tiny-fisted might to reverse laws banning bribes to foreign governments, on account of how fiercely anti-corruption he is, you see. Hey, when your name is your brand and both are synonymous with incompetence, stupidity, and snarling hatred, bribery is pretty much all that’s left, especially when you’re in the market to pull off a real estate scam or two, preferably in a country without an extradition treaty.
Devin Nunes hasn’t been in shit this deep since his poor mamma first caught him stickin’ his willie in the family hog back on the old farm. With the Pez Dispenser Only With Evidence Instead of Chalky Candy known as Lev Parnas linking Devin and his staff ever more tightly to the Trump/Giuliani Ukrainian extortion ring, America’s most treasonous Congressman didn’t even get invited to join Fat Q*Bert’s impeachment defense team, leaving Gym Jordan and Mark Meadows all the fun that apparently comes with humiliating yourself in front of the entire world on live television. (I think it’s weird, but it’s a different culture, and we shouldn’t judge. Maybe it’s a sex thing.)
You’ll be pleased to learn that the newest branch of the military is ready to defend ‘Murica in the jungles of outer space. Yes, the first Space Force uniforms are an avant-garde rebellion against the traditional notion of “camouflage,” seemingly designed to make our fighting forces stand out as much as fucking possible on the battlefields of the final frontier, perhaps on the theory that any alien invaders would be moved to take pity on our primitive, dumbass, society.
Kid Kompromat’s top Russia advisor, a bad-guy-in-a-movie-set-in-a-prep-school-lookin’ fuck called Andrew Peek, was escorted from the Shart House amidst a security investigation, with plenty of rumors swirling that this grade A dipshit actually fell for the old “honey trap” bit and got his fucking phone stolen by spies. “The best people” was always a sick, sad, joke, but after three years of scandal-driven turnover, we’re well past scraping the bottom of the barrel; we’re harvesting the fungus from under the floorboards in the room where the barrel’s stored, and giving it top secret security clearance.
Ahead of the impeachment trial, Richard Shelby, who I am told is a United States Senator, and not, as it would seem from casual observation, a Marm-a-Lego steward tasked with licking Sultan Spraytan’s golf shoes clean, excused the President’s many, extremely-well-documented, crimes by saying, “things happen.” Well, yes. Things do happen. Like, I keep forgetting to buy shampoo, right, and I was almost out of shampoo, so I went to to Target specifically to get shampoo, and I got dishwasher detergent and paper towels and those strawberry-flavored marshmallows I like so much, but of course I was halfway home before I realized I’d left without the fucking shampoo, but it was late and cold and I didn’t feel like going back and sure enough the next day in the shower, I ran completely out of shampoo and I didn’t know how I was gonna wash my hair so what I wound up doing was illegally using congressionally-appropriated foreign aid to extort a vulnerable allied nation* into picking up the shampoo for me and delivering it to my apartment. Things happen.
Well, I assume everybody loved White Boy GI Joe Cosplay Day in Virginia, as the March of the Subpar Yet Heavily Armed provided its annual glimpse into the lives of those emotionally stunted man-children who, for whatever reason, find it very important to let the world know they’re too insecure to leave the house without their comically-obvious penis substitutes. Of course, Sharty McFly tried his best to stir the pot with some fear-mongering tweets, perhaps hoping to inspire a little bloodshed. Fortunately, in this, as in most of the endeavors of his pathetic, crooked, life, he failed.
I feel like Kellyanne Conway’s entire career is basically one enormous ongoing dare to God to strike her down with a bolt of lightening. Maybe that’s why she was flying a kite with a key on it when she claimed Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would surely be standing alongside her Turd Emperor today, hollering “fake news” and sharing stale McDonalds, were he only alive to do so.
Mitch McConnell is so committed to aiding Baron Golfin von Fatfuk’s coverup, he’s practically one of the Dotard’s ill-fitting suit jackets. I assure you, Mitch McConnell sees all the polls showing the American people want a real, fair trial, that they want to see evidence and hear from witnesses; Mitch McConnell simply does not care, for he holds the power and you, you peons, with your quaint little ideas about “justice” and “the rule of law,” do not.
Yertle heard somebody say “Democracy dies in darkness” and thought “holy shit that is SUCH a good idea!” and so he hatched** a sneaky little plot to condense the trial so much that much of it would take place literally in the middle of the night, because Americans can’t be appalled by what they sleep through, right? However, his cowardly, indecent, scheme went too far for even his cowed caucus of stooges and sycophants, and he backed off a bit. We did that, Resisters, by flooding the Senate with calls; we’ve already beaten him once, and we can, and must, do it again.
Anyway, Adam Schiff dropped a few dozen 20-megaton truth bombs on the Senate GOP while Tangerine Idi Amin’s banned-from-the-children’s-party-clown-circuit-for-being-creepy legal team wheezed and screeched their way through a litany of long-ago debunked lies and horseshit talking points, another painful reminder that President Crotchrot’s lone hope for political survival is the total obliteration of objective truth in this country, and that it’s a price he’s positively giddy to pay, though of course, as is his custom, he’ll be sticking the rest of us with the bill.
Then Chuck Schumer made a modest proposal; no, it wasn’t to ask the Senate caterer to add Irish children to the impeachment lunch buffet, but simply to subpoena the Treasonweasel Administration for documents and witnesses related to, y’know, that whole Ukraine thang. The idea, near as I can figure it, was that Senators, as jurors in the trial, would be best served by seeing all the relevant evidence, but alas, poor Chuck forgot that formerly uncontroversial things like “honesty,” “intellectual rigor,” and “impartial justice” are totally partisan now, and every single Senate Republican voted to keep their heads firmly in the sand, thank you very much, it’s really quite cool and refreshing down here.
And so we finish where we began; with two competing realities. I’m sure on Fux Nooz, the barely-coherent blather of Sekulow and Cipollone is being spun and praised as the greatest thing since Hannity shoved an entire watermelon up his ass. Here in the real world, we’re just amazed that Republican Senators, supposedly among the world’s most powerful people, can behave so cravenly without their spines spontaneously bursting from their bodies in search of worthier hosts. Ah well, such is life. Apparently. Fuck.
And that’s all I got for y’all tonight. The Kickstarter for my lil’ comic book project is still live (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) , and I continue to thank you, from the bottom of my dark little heart, for all your support. Y’all are the best readers a drunken fake superhero could hope for!
*Norway, if you absolutely must know.
**GET IT?!?!?
Donnie Cracks While Lev Talks Smack and Flynn Backtracks as McSally Cries "Hacks!" (Ferret/ShowerC)
So I took most of the week to focus on launching my little comic book project (more on that later), and I have to say, diving back into the news cycle after a couple days off, GREAT BALLS OF PURE FUCK WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON IN THIS COUNTRY? It’s like suddenly seeing it all through the eyes of a newborn; I suppose it’s nice to know I haven't been making it up when I say, for example, “shit be cray,” but seriously, friends...shit be cray.
(As usual, if you wanna read this post WITH the nifty news links, click here: http://showercapblog.com/donnie-cracks-while-lev-talks-smack-and-flynn-backtracks-as-mcsally-cries-hacks/)
Well, the articles of impeachment have, at long last, been delivered to the Senate, and while there weren’t as many floats or acrobats in the procession as I’d have liked, at least there were plenty of clowns waiting on the receiving end. GOP Senators solemnly swore an oath many have already publicly pledged to violate, though I suppose if their constituents have yet to notice that the likes of Lindsey Graham and Rand Paul are mendacious, power-crazed, crudsponges, one more lie isn’t likely to move the needle.
Susan Collins, proudly showing off her new “Most Loathed Senator in America Yes Even More Than Mitch Wow I Must Really Suck” badge, hemmed and hawed and harrumphed and whined that her position on witnesses at the trial had been “misunderstood,” before offering a “clarification” made up of that familiar blend noncommittal, bet-hedging, argle-bargle that we have all come to associate with her particular brand of so-called moderation. Perhaps in her (imminent) retirement, she can join the board of some dairy company, and push them to develop some new, frustratingly bland and instantly forgettable take on vanilla ice cream.
Usually, when you see an enormous, last-minute, advertising push for a blockbuster, it means the studio knows they’ve got an absolute dud on their hands, and they want to recoup as much of their investment as possible before the word of mouth spreads, but I have to say, the Lev Parnas evidence dump actually lived up to the hype! Honestly, I’m already hoping for a sequel, maybe a trilogy. You could call it The Smoking Gun Saga.
There’s lots of new shit confirming and strengthening the case that’s already been laid out by House Democrats, which pairs like a fine wine* with the total lack of exonerating evidence or testimony from Team Treasonweasel. And there’re plenty of new insinuations, implicating the most powerful figures in Shartopia, up to Bill Barr and Mike Pants himself. See? Plenty of material for Episode II: For a Few Plea Bargains More.
So I guess Rudy Giuliani’s stooge brigade was surveilling Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch? Even by the standards of a news cycle so scandal-ridden you almost have to wring the grease out of your morning paper, that’s some sinister shit, y’all. Anyway, “Is the President and/or his personal attorney involved in a plot to assassinate an American diplomat” is now the sort of thing that we can’t just automatically dismiss as ridiculous, so personally, I think this is a gauntlet thrown down in front of Tom Clancy; step up your game bro, there’s a new competitor in town, and his name Reality.
I confess, I truly didn’t believe there was room for this conspiracy of dolts to get any dumber, but goddamn if this new Robert Hyde character didn’t prove me wrong. That dude makes Carter Page look like James Bond and Sam Nunberg seem like the calm, steady, sort of fellow who could be entrusted to perform brain surgery, or maybe even be the guy who picks which wire to cut when there’s a bomb in a movie. Dear lord, is there even farther to travel down this path of self-sabotaging idiocy? What lies at the end? Eric Trump accidentally forwarding secret family recordings to Washington Post reporters, all the while striking himself in the left temple with a tack hammer?
Anyway, big ol’ congratulations go out to President Crotchvoid, you finally got Ukraine to open an investigation into the American government’s corrupt behavior! Of course it’s YOUR corrupt behavior; It’s like you sat on a monkey’s paw 50-some years ago, and it’s been wedged up your ass ever since.
So, Mike “the Turkish Delight” Flynn wants to rescind his guilty plea, having replaced his previous, semi-normal, legal team with a mason jar full of bathtub gin, pop rocks, and a single gerbil suffering from dementia. To be honest, Mike Flynn getting terrible legal advice that will inevitably lead to a rather large box of shit blowing up right in Mike Flynn’s face is not exactly the sort of news likely to lead to the shedding of tears in the Shower Cap household.
History will assume I was simply drunk out of my mind when I wrote this (and history will be absolutely fucking right about that, but that doesn’t negate the fact of the matter), but the honest-to-goodness truth is, on the eve of impeachment, buried in scandal and crisis, Hairplug Himmler could think of no better use for his time than to stand before a modestly-sized crowd of angry, stupid, white people, warm liquid shit running down his leg like a butter sculpture of Garth Brooks melting in the summer sun, bloviating incoherently about dishwashers for awhile. No, this is not the work of the typographical imp denizens of the early 21st century called “autocorrect,” I really fucking mean “dishwashers,” because the old fop really is that fucking crazy.
Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo’s State Department cancelled a scheduled briefing on embassy security at the last minute, which is probably fine, it’s not like any of our embassies have been stormed lately. On the other hand, maybe the lesson they learned from last week’s Mike Lee explosion** is that it’s better to simply sit on bad news in the hopes that it magically goes away than to tell anyone the truth. I bet that works out well.
No better evidence of the 1984 Coloring Book Somebody Spilled a Wine Cooler On world we’re all trapped in than the news that the non-partisan Government Accountability Office dropped by to tap us on the shoulder to say, “For the record, Donnie Dotard officially broke the law JUST by withholding congressionally-appropriated aid from Ukraine. Never mind the cover-ups or the quid pro quo, this, all by itself, is a crime, and actually a fucking gigantic one, seriously, how is this cheap crook not in jail right now?” and it’s barely even a fucking story because everyone’s all, “WE KNOW HE’S A CRIMINAL WE’RE JUST TRYING TO WORK OUT WHETHER OR NOT THAT MATTERS.”
...and you know that the minute there’s a Democratic President again, Republicans will call for impeachment if the Department of the Interior exceeds its break room instant coffee budget.
After months of senselessly stomping on the American economy’s crotch, the Shart of the Deal signed “phase one” of a new trade agreement with China. He didn’t get anything he wanted, or promised, because, and let’s never lose sight of this, while he’s generally sub-competent at everything from international diplomacy to dressing himself, he is especially, catastrophically, awful at making deals. So after months of mindless economic damage, with billions in tariffs pissed away like so much hooker urine on a Russian hotel bed, with the manufacturing sector in recession, and a horrifying spike in farmer suicides, we’re expected to celebrate the fact that the doddering old twit has at least stopped making shit worse on purpose. Party at your place, I guess.
If you’re feeling down about your own day-to-day struggles, turn ye to the tale of Martha McSally, and understand that one can attain the awesome heights of United States Senatorship, and still remain deeply, hilariously, pathetic. Now, admittedly, McSally has problems; appointed to an open seat before the loser stench of her failed 2018 campaign had even begun to dissipate, she is the least legitimate member of the World’s Ex-Greatest Deliberative Body (We Had to Change the Name Because of McConnell). Unpopular and unaccomplished, she’s staring down the business end of a challenge from Democrat Mark Kelly, who is effortlessly out-raising and outclassing her (ok, so that second part is a low bar to clear). With no actual record to run on, Martha opted, via a sad, staged, little confrontation with a journalist, to aim for MAGA stardom by attacking the free press. Anyway, I just set my DVR to record her concession speech.
With the All-New, All-Blue, state government in Virginia enacting some light, common-sense, gun control laws in order to, y’know, maybe save a few folks from getting shot to death, a mob of angry idiots is massing to threaten to shoot people to death, because gun nuts are so terrible at making their case that they tend to...to...oh fuck, I shouldn’t say it...somebody fucking stop meeeeeee...they tend to, dare I say...shoot themselves in the foot? But seriously, is a crowd of armed maniacs threatening violence supposed to be an argument AGAINST gun control? Really?
Anyway, the NRA-backed rally has attracted exactly who you imagined it would, including a trio of literal Nazis who just got arrested for plotting to use the event to stage a terrorist mass shooting. Holy fuck, I am sick of Nazis. To the organizers of this little shitshow: hey, congratulations on throwing the type of party Nazis want to attend. Personally, I know I’d do a little soul-searching if Nazis showed up to my shindig, even if they weren’t coming to commit mass murder but only wanted to taste my famous fruit salad (the trick is, I use pears, because nobody puts pears in fruit salad, which I think is weird because pears are fucking great).
Bloomberg reports that Strawberry Shartcake’s scam tax bill handed $32 billion of our money to the biggest banks in the country, because POPULISM! Billions and billions to Goldman Sachs, and you’re still trying to make us rube taxpayers pay for your stupid wall? Fuck you sideways with garden weasel, man.
If you’re looking for that one specific daily newspaper to slap your smug, “both parties are the same,” friend across the mouth with, you could do worse than today’s. On the one hand, you have the aforementioned bluer-than-ever Virginia legislature finally passing the Equal Rights Amendment, pretty awesome news, right? But damn near simultaneously, down in Florida, Dead-Eyed Hair Gel Receptacle Ron DeSantis sneeringly spiked the football over the state’s Supreme Court upholding his despicable, disenfranchising, poll tax, proclaiming “voting is a privilege,” and not one he plans on extending to folks who didn’t have the good sense to be born white, if he can help it. Yeah, totally the same. Totally.
Ahead of the impeachment trial, the Adderall-Addled Assclown proudly announced his legal team, and while it’s interesting he decided to select for creepiness rather than competence, I certainly won’t stand in his way as he self-immolates. Alan “I didn’t inhale...on my buddy/client Jeffrey Epstein’s private sex trafficking island” Dershowitz? Pam “I literally took a bribe from Donald Trump” Bondi? Ken “What I’d really like is to be remembered forever as a comically hypocritical partisan hack” Starr? Seriously, why NOT let Rudy-Roo join this rancid scumbag clown car?
I guess there’s yet another new book coming out documenting some fresh new ways Weehands McNodick is a dangerous idiot, recklessly captaining the ship of state as it spirals down the toilet bowl, while Putin, laughing, plays a little game where he tries to pee on it. I read this shit, and I’m like, “God, grant me the confidence of this mushbrained rich boy, who doesn’t know what Pearl Harbor was, who possesses a sub-grade-school understanding of geography, but still feels comfortable calling the nation’s highest-ranking military leaders ‘dopes and babies.’” Imagine failing at the casino business and calling anybody else a “dope.” I can make my cat bite her own tail, and even she couldn’t bankrupt a fucking casino.
Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot, Prince of Pettiness, marked Michelle Obama’s birthday by proposing rollbacks to the school lunch/breakfast nutritional standards she championed, because feeding his obsessive hatred of his more-accomplished, more-loved, predecessor, while simultaneously undermining the health of an entire generation of American kids is the sort of two-for-one deal that Putin’s Personal Pet President just can’t pass up.
And disgraced former Republican Congresscrook Chris Collins got sentenced to a cool 26 months in prison for the BULLSHIT reason that he committed crimes and got caught, just the latest battle in the War on Not Letting Conservatives Get Away With Shit. Expect a whinging Hannity monologue any minute now.
Ok, folks, I’m calling it here. Any other insanity outbreaks will just have to wait ‘till Monday.
Now, I will write more on this topic soon, but let me wrap up tonight with a great big fat fucking THANK YOU to everyone who has backed the Kickstarter for my first comic book. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and I made this first book with this blog’s audience in mind, hoping some of y’all would be interested. I was unprepared and delighted by the wave of support, which exceeded not only my expectations, but my wildest hopes. So...thank you. And if you haven’t seen the Kickstarter yet, there’s plenty of time, all the cool kids are doing it, the fuck are you waiting for? (Click here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost)
*Y’know, the kind that comes in boxes. The GOOD stuff.
**The Mike Lee Explosion is currently touring casinos and state fairs throughout the Midwest.
Ah, the First Shitstorm of the Year! Delightful! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Last week, I was driven right up to the edge of madness, a perfectly reasonable reaction to all the vag candle news and whatnot. If anything pushes me all the way off the cliff, it’s learning that there’re somehow folks who look around our poor, hurting, world, from the Australian wildfires to the daily assaults on the pillars of American democracy, and decide to funnel their emotional energy into yelling at Burger King for saying “damn” in a commercial. Anyway, don’t tell One Million Moms about this blog, I don’t think they could handle it.
(As always, find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/ah-the-first-shitstorm-of-the-year-delightful/)
If Matt Gaetz were anyone but Matt Gaetz, I’d feel bad for him. After three years as one of Team Treasonweasel’s most devoted stooges, parroting every talking point, attacking every enemy, spreading every lie, all while gorging himself on the scraps from Shart Garfunkel’s table, Matty begged permission to buck the party line once, just one little ol’ vote, one time. Like a Death Eater asking Voldemort to spare his pet hamster, Gaetz only wanted leave to back House Democrats’ war powers resolution; it was an inconsequential vote in the grand scheme of things, and surely nobody could begrudge him this one, teensy-weensy principle, this single, nigh-microscopic, gun to stick to? HA HA NOPE, the excommunication from Cult45 was swift and brutal, and all past service was entirely forgotten as the Trumpist media dogpile eagerly devoured their new target. “I betrayed everything decent about myself and my country and all I have to show for it is this shitty, made-in-China, red ballcap,” right?
It’s certainly surprising to watch a walking colon tumor take credit for fighting cancer, but in lieu of actual accomplishments, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has indeed taken to bragging about a drop in the cancer mortality rate, as though he had one fuckin’ thing to do with it, as though he hasn’t done his damndest to cut federal funding for cancer research. Old bastard’s one bad news cycle away from claiming responsibility for you grandson’s B+ on his fractions test, is all I’m sayin’.
The wealth might not be tricklin’ down in Donald Trump’s Amerikkka, but y’know what is? SHITTINESS. Take, for example, former-Mrs.-Florida-turned-Trumpy-pundit Karyn Turk, on her way to prison for stealing her Alzheimer’s-afflicted elderly mother’s social security checks, like any good Christian would. Like so many of her ilk, Turk attempted to cast herself as the victim of some nebulous anti-conservative witch-hunt, right up until admitting she was caught red-handed, and pleading guilty. Anyway, I look forward to Karyn winning at least three or four states in the 2024 GOP presidential primary.
Relations with Iraq continue deteriorating at the predictable pace of all things touched by Dorito Mussolini’s tiny, inadequate, hands, as the Put-Allies-in-One-End-Watch-‘Em-Come-Out-as-Enemies-on-the-Other Pipeline known as the Trump Administration diplomacy shop has progressed in its response to Baghdad’s “Your troops don’t have to go home but they can’t stay here” request from “MAKE US” to “MAKE US AND ALSO WE WILL CUT OFF ACCESS TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNTS IF YOU TRY.” Wow, an occupying forces that blackmails you with your own money? It’s like colonialist bingo.
In an interview with Just Put The Uniform On Already We All Know You Want To Telefascist Laura Ingraham, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot bragged extensively about transforming the U.S. military into a mercenary force, apparently for sale to the highest bidder. Somebody’s checking to make sure these payments are going into the Treasury and not some offshore gilded-toilets-and-extra-strength-golf-pants fund, right?
As for the Soleimani strike itself, I feel like I can’t even cover it here; I’m sure the bullshit rationale for the assassination offered by the Shart House will have shifted more than once between the fleeting moment in time when I compose this sentence, and the point, hours into the far-flung future, when you actually read it.
I’ll tell you one thing, though: if Barack Obama had ordered the killing of a high-ranking foreign government official on the grounds that it was necessary to prevent imminent attacks on multiple embassies, only to have his very own Defense Secretary say, on live television, “Uh, nope, that particular intelligence seems to have been pulled directly from the presidential ass,” half the GOP Senate caucus would’ve sustained serious injuries in the ensuing stampede to get in front of a camera to condemn that shit, and call for impeachment, if not outright civil war.
Of course, now we’re learning the Bonespur Buttplug, egged on by the bloodthirsty likes of Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo and the Genocidal Mustache Symbiotically Attached to John Bolton’s Upper Lip, actually approved the killing months ago, and was just hangin’ around, waiting for an “imminent” excuse to manifest itself. You know, I’m starting to believe these people are somewhat less than trustworthy.
Anyway the point is, our Commander-in-Chief, a doddering old nitwit who was never very smart to begin with, and who is now experiencing such rapid mental decline that what’s left of his brains is all but leaking out of his ears, basically reserves the right to murder anybody anywhere for any reason, how fun!
Well, the gibbering, incontinent, cowardly, septuagenarian toddler hailed as a beacon of strength by a millions-strong cult of critically-unperceptive white people spent most of the weekend doing the one thing he does truly well: whining. He thinks it’s profoundly unfair that he finally got himself into some trouble that daddy’s money can’t buy him out of, and the “stigma” of impeachment is now attached to his name, a name which is already synonymous with racism, stupidity, tyranny, mendacity, failure, sexual assault, financial crime, bullying, stealing money from charity to buy paintings of yourself, inability to tie a necktie or close an umbrella, operating concentration camps full of terrified children on American soil, stochastic terrorism, and treason, but sure “impeachment” is the bit that’s harming the brand.
Meanwhile Nancy Pelosi, with a playful jingle of the thimble she keeps on her desk, in which she’s stored Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops’ wee testicles since the 2018/19 shutdown fight, reminded him, impeachment is FOREVER, old man. Seriously, Shartboy, “stigma” doesn’t begin to cover what history is going to do to you. The books will be printed on scratch n’ sniff paper, to more accurately capture the festering outhouse stench of your loathsome, despised, reign.
Because it’s just the sort of thing you do when you live in Hell, everybody pulled their hair out for a couple of hours, attempting to decipher the meaning of a message from the official Shart House Twitter account celebrating the “first snow of the year” on a lovely, 70 degree, and naturally, snowless evening in D.C. Was this merely the latest bit of tragicomic incompetence from the Clowncar Full of Rectums mismanaging our poor nation, meaning we should worry somebody maybe left the keys to a couple of nuclear missile silos on the counter at Starbucks? Or was it a sinister elevation of the administration’s incessant gaslighting, claiming the authority to rewrite reality to the point where they demand rejection of the evidence of your very senses? Is Kellyanne Conway just playing a prank on her husband, as part of whatever kinky sex thing they’ve been working out? We may never know.
And the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits unleashed an even batshittier-than-usual Tweetstorm (my god, wasn’t life nicer before we understood what that word meant?), as though he felt it necessary to remind America, ahead of the impeachment trial, that he’s super-stupid, super-vile, and super-bigoted. We remember, bro. Really we do. We don’t hate you for no reason, y’know.
Anyway, we’ve arrived at the point when Strawberry Shartcake can no longer properly spell even his favorite slurs, so anyway, big congrats to Messrs. McConnell and McCarthy, as well as their respective caucuses, for hogtying their reputations to a dude who’s basically What if the Titanic was Really Dumb Rich Guy in Silly Balloon Pants.
With no tactics left to fall back on beyond Fooling Some of the People All of the Time and Hoping the Fools are Adequately Concentrated in the Rust Belt, the Marmalade Shartcannon is now attempting to cast himself as the one true champion of protecting health care coverage for folks with pre-existing conditions, even after pissing away most of his political capital in 2017 on a bill that would’ve shredded those protections; indeed, even as his administration fights in the courts to destroy judicially (but not until after the election please and thank you) what he failed to annihilate legislatively. Maybe he’ll try to run against his ENTIRE record, and the debates will just be two candidates agreeing Donald Trump is a malicious, incompetent, buffoon, only one of them is Donald Trump wearing a fake beard.
Another victory for Sultan Spraytan in the never-ending mine’s-bigger-than-yours competition with his predecessor that gnaws away at his decomposing brain day and night; regrettably we’re talking about the annual deficit. Back over $1 Trillion, huh? Heckuva job, Fuckwad.
Well, we’ve got plenty of dangling plot lines looking for resolutions, don’t we? Will the Senate allow witnesses at the impeachment trial? What’s in the documents the Department of Energy has just agreed to release, regarding all things shady and Ukrainian? How long will Chris Collins be a burden on the correctional system*? What’s in the bundle o’ evidence Lev Parnas is turning over to Congress? Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? Tune in next time, same Shower Cap time, same Shower Cap channel!
...and until then, how ‘bout giving me a hand with my VERY FIRST COMIC BOOK? The Kickstarter launches TOMORROW MORNING, unless you’re reading this blog in the morning, in which case it launches MORE OR LESS RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT. You can read more about the book here; (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/the-worth-and-the-cost) it’s designed for a Resistance audience like YOU, because I am NOT ABOVE PANDERING.
Seriously, I wrote it with y'all in mind, and I think you'll dig it. There are some fun rewards on the Kickstarter for readers of the blog, available in limited quantities, so act fast!
PS - I am absolutely missing some late-breaking stories, for which I apologize. It’s a big night ahead of the big launch, so bear with me, and I’ll catch up on everything later in the week!
*I almost wrote “penal system,” but I don’t trust you immature fuckers.
We Almost Went to War with Iran This Week, But it's the Gwyneth Paltrow News That's Got Me Shook
Y’know, it’s been one of the bat-shittier weeks of the entire Shart regime, but I really thought I could handle everything and persevere with my madness-chroniclin’ duties, but then I found out about Gwyneth Paltrow’s vag-scented candle, and...that did it, folks. That one broke me. Any paragraphs that are not pure gibberish tonight are simply the last gasps of a dying brain.
(As always, you can find this post, with all them nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/we-almost-went-to-war-with-iran-this-week-but-its-the-gwyneth-paltrow-news-thats-got-me-shook/)
The House and the Senate continue their slap fight over the impeachment trial. Nancy Pelosi would like Mitch McConnell to behave as though the Constitution were some sort of legally binding document, while Wrinkly Gamera would prefer to move past all those pesky stories of the Senate GOP’s complicity in Il Douche’s treasonous crime spree and get back to focusing on the work of transforming drooling right wing idiot bloggers into federal judges.
Visibly-Decomposing Propaganda Spigot Lou Dobbs has had it up to his jowls with ungrateful Americans who don’t understand their “obligations” to Emperor Turdmaggot, because he is Hawt 4 Fascism. Gotta say, Lou, I checked the Constitution, and my only “obligation” to your cheap conman overlord is to tell him precisely where he can stick his shitty, loser, wannabe dictatorship.*
We all know Squeezably Soft Telefascist Sebastian Gorka is a lying goon, a faux intellectual, and a basement-dwelling internet troll’s idea of an “alpha male,” but did you also know he’s pervy old creep who likes to sneer and joke about teenage girls’ bodies? Honestly, it would be quite surprising if ol’ Seb ever demonstrated a single non-repulsive personality trait, wouldn't it?
Well, Tuesday night sure was fun, as Iran’s inevitable retaliation for the Suleimani killing, in the form of missile strikes on U.S. bases in Iraq, kept us up all night worrying about whether one blithering manchild's fragile ego would really launch another senseless, bloody, forever war.
Anyway, after a good night’s sleep and apparently taking All the Drugs in the World, President Crotchrot gave one of his trademark rambling, sniffly, teleprompter speeches Wednesday morning. He blamed everything on Obama, and claimed credit for totally, 100%, defeating ISIS, which’ll be news to all the ISIS fighters he got released from prison in Syria, all the while slurring his speech like a Cubs fan singing the seventh inning stretch, but at least he didn’t fuck shit up as much as he could have, so if Lindsey Graham feels like giving that sad, barely-coherent, rant a five-star rating on Yelp, I’ll just chuckle and say, “Hey, hope you a least got a round of golf out of this latest humiliating debasement, kid.”
Now, I know most of my readers are lefty commie pinko types, so it is my sad duty to request that y’all kindly stop luvving terrorists so dang much. Stop taking terrorists to the movies and pulling the I’m-yawning-no-wait-I’m-actually-putting-my-arm-around-you bit. Stop taking them to malt shops and looking longingly into their eyes over shared strawberry milkshakes. And stop booty-calling ISIS in the middle of the night for Pete’s sake! Patriotic Republicans like Doug Collins, Kevin McCarthy, and Nikki Haley are tired of your terrorist sympathies, Democrats, and they’ll keep on making the same old totally-in-good-faith-wink-wink arguments until you break up with your al-Qaeda boyfriends!
Anyway, you could be forgiven for losing track of all the different bullshit excuses the Treasonweasel Administration has offered to justify the Suleimani assassination, because the story changes from hour to hour and liar to liar. It was either retaliation for the recent death of a contractor or an emergency intervention necessary to prevent an imminent attack and no we absolutely cannot provide any evidence whatsoever to back our shit up but how dare you impugn our integrity when have we ever lied to you except every single fucking day since taking office? To hear it told, either Iran was about to blow up every American embassy in the world (sure they were, Shart-Shart), or maybe some minor diplomat just stink-palmed Mike Pompeo at the U.N. last year.
Vice President Mike Pants insists there’s special super-secret intelligence backing up whatever crap Boss Shart happens to be spinning (nine embassies and a Steak ‘n Shake outside Indianapolis by now, surely) but us plebes can’t see it on account of how special and super-secret it is, and lordy, you jagoffs have pulled this shit so many times we’ve beaten the Canadian Girlfriend gag to death. Y’all are the shitshow that altered a weather map with a goddamn marker. No, you do not have secret intelligence. No, we don’t believe you. While we’ve got your attention, no, you’re not a real Christian, either, and also the potato salad you bring to every GOP potluck tastes like moldy ass.
The utter ridiculousness of the administration’s lazy bullshit was enough to make Utah Senator Mike Lee briefly manifest his long-absent spinal column, calling out Team Fuckhead for their insultingly shitty “intelligence briefing,” and even threatening to support the Democratic war powers resolution, a rare assertion of “Hey, we are so a co-equal branch of government, the Constitution sez so!” from a party increasingly defined by bootlicking sycophancy. Lee’s principled rebellion lasted almost an entire day, before he returned to his customary groveling.
Of course, at the risk of cutting through the crap for a minute, the Wall Street Journal, that fake nooz liberal rag, reports Shart Garfunkel ordered the strike in a desperate attempt to bribe an unknown handful of GOP Senators into looking the other way on the whole “high crimes and misdemeanors” thing. Seems like a totally legit reason to toss a sackful of badgers and firecrackers into the Mid East powderkeg, doesn’t it? He really would burn the entire world to cinder for just one solitary scoop of ice cream for himself, y’know.
Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag has been lying low since a series of embarrassing photo ops with his Duchess of White Privilege trophy wife, but he’s resurfaced with a bold new plan for an American economy that benefits everyone, not just the already-wealthy, and JUST KIDDING he’s apparently spending his time these days doing all he can to hide the cost of Strawberry Shartcake’s weekly golf vacations to the Secret Service from the American public, i.e. the poor suckers footing the fuckin’ bill. Real meaningful life you’ve got there, Steve. Congratulations.
Meanwhile, the Die Peasants Die Administration is trying take your cake and eat theirs too, asking the courts to kindly delay any Obamacare-destroying activities until after the 2020 election, so they won’t be held electorally accountable for, y’know, condemning millions to unnecessary suffering, bankruptcy, and death. They still want to kill a bunch of Americans, understand, they just want their votes first.
It wouldn’t be a week in Shartopia without the Wayne Gretzky of Losing in Court losing in court again, and sure enough, the Sunny D-Bag’s feeble attempt to dismiss E. Jean Carroll’s defamation lawsuit went the way of the overwhelming majority of his legal endeavors: straight down the judicial crapper, and also he noticed too late that there is no toilet paper in the stall. When Littlefinger dies, the one thing I will miss is watching him lose in court.
While we’re on the subject, yet another right-wing conspiracy theory has collapsed under the weight of reality, as the Justice Department finally wrapped up their investigation into that always-obviously-horseshit Uranium One nonsense, concluding that you can’t prosecute Hillary Clinton for totally made-up reasons, no matter how much you really, really, want to. Of course, in the lunatic far-right media bubble, this will no doubt be greeted not as a grudging exoneration of HRC, but as still more evidence of the fearsome might of the deep state pedophile pizzagate Muslim Brotherhood Democrap libtard cabal, and how fun is it that millions of our fellow citizens have been so thoroughly brainwashed/radicalized**?
Dang, that’s gonna disappoint Bronco Billy Barr, who already has enough on his plate with his Please Help Me Make Up Shit About Joe Biden, If He Wins I’m Going to Jail world tour, and now the New York City Bar Association is asking Congress to formally investigate his ongoing efforts to turn the Department of Justice into a partisan cudgel, wielded on behalf of a dirtbag cult of shitty white supremacist losers. Did I say “shitty white supremacists?” Because that’s redundant. Anyway, fuck Bill Barr.
As he usually does when he needs a little break from the daily grind of failing at everything, Government Cheese Goebbels hosted another one of his little Klan rallies, because stoking the resentments of the shittiest white people in the world is just what he does to unwind after a long day of stealing taxpayer money and fucking up literally everything he can get his tiny, inadequate, little hands on. He seemed oddly obsessed with Adam Schiff’s neck this time, as though his own doesn’t resemble a manatee’s scrotum. Oh, and he described Democrats as “vicious, horrible people,” which is a funny way for a President to talk about the majority of his constituents, if you ask me.
And the How Is It Even Possible to Suck This Much Administration formally revoked the earlier “Fine, you want us to leave, we’ll leave, fine. FINE!” letter accidentally sent to Iraq, issuing a new “We’re staying whether you like it or not WE’RE A FORCE FOR GOOD” statement, what could POSSIBLY go wrong? Everybody loves an occupier, right? That’s like, a proverb or some shit, surely. Greeted as Liberators, Invited to Weekly Game Night as Occupiers. Surely.
Whew. After a week overflowing with that much hot bullshit, I bet everybody could use a little good news to purge that lingering turd taste and start your weekend off on the right foot. I am delighted to find myself in a position to offer y’all just such a figurative breath mint.
In my home state of Kansas, for example, shiny new Democratic Governor Laura Kelly struck a deal with Senate Republicans to expand Medicaid, bringing health care coverage to more than 100,000 residents of the Trust Me We’ve Already Heard Your Wizard of Oz Joke state!
You want more good news? Ok, that’s a little greedy, but how about the New York Senate passing an automatic voter registration bill? How about the all-new, all-blue government in Virginia standing up to maniacal militia types and passing some common-sense gun control bills?
Look, you’re gonna fill up on good news, and you won’t want your supper...I should stop, but HOLY SHIT RBG IS CANCER-FREE, Y’ALL! I’ll drink to that all fuckin’ night long! Shit, I’ve been celebrating that news so hard, it’s a miracle I sobered up long enough to write this blog!***
In return for this Pepperidge Farm gift basket of good news, I do have a favor to ask. I'm launching the Kickstarter for my very first comic book, The Worth & The Cost, this coming Tuesday, and I could really your help. It’s a nifty little Resistance fable, a stand-alone sci-fi story about getting off of the sidelines and onto the front lines, and I think you’ll really dig it. If y’all can help me spread the word, or even chip in if you’re able, well, I’d just be happier than a Trump in a beauty pageant dressing room!
Learn more about my comic here: http://showercapblog.com/the-worth-the-cost/
P.S., the Kickstarter will feature some really fun rewards for fans of the blog, in limited quantities, so sign up for updates and don’t miss ‘em!
*Up his ass, is the implication here, if that was somehow unclear.
**SO fun, right?
***I did not, in fact, sober up before writing this blog.
Profile Information
Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 07:48 PMNumber of posts: 632
