TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalNa Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Goodbye (Ferret)
There once was a boy called Kevin McSomething, who ventured out into the world, looking to swap his soul for something shiny and hollow. The old witch who lived in the dumpster in back of the abandoned Blockbuster Video offered him half a pack of stale cookie dough bites and a VHS copy of Turner & Hooch, but Kevin said, “Oh, I bet I can get MUCH less than that!” and on he skipped, tra lee, tra la, until he came upon the Republican Party.
(As ever, links and the shiniest of colors await those bold enough to click here: https://showercapblog.com/na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-hey-hey-hey-goodbye/)
The rest, sad to say, is history, and if literacy is still a thing when we come out the other side of this shitshow, the textbooks will remember Speaker McCarthy as perhaps the single bootlickingest stooge in the craven cabal that sought to sell American democracy to a game show host who regularly brags about passing a cognitive test. Ask not for whom the face-eating leopard yowls, Kevin; it yowls for thee.
Under the terms McCarthy shrewdly negotiated with those unmatched leadership skillz of his, the Speaker serves at the pleasure of the skeeviest attention whore in his caucus, so Matt Gaetz pulverized a couple Viagra tablets, snorted ‘em off Andy Biggs’ ass, and dispatched his boss to a farm upstate, where he’ll have plenty of room to run around and play with the other “Young Guns.”
Naturally, the Party of Personal Responsibility™️ blamed Keville Chamberlain’s defenestration on Democrats, who were supposed to bail their election-denying, default-threatening, sham impeachment-pushing, fascism-enabling asses out “for the good of the country.” Why, the mewling “moderates” who cave to the radical fringe every. single. motherfucking. time. are even squawking about quitting the Problem Solvers Caucus.
GASP!
Not…THE PROBLEM SOLVERS CAUCUS!
(I assume you have fainted and recovered by now. Moving on.)
Kevin kicked off his Speaker Emeritus phase with all the class and dignity we’ve come to expect from him, ordering his buffoonish placeholder replacement to evict Nancy Pelosi from her office, while she attended Diane Feinstein’s funeral in California, so he could move in. Go for it, bro; you’ll always look two inches tall in her shadow.
Now he’s talking about fleeing Congress altogether. Good. May you pass the remainder of your days in sandpaper underpants, you spineless chickenshit.
Anyway, now begins the assclown slap fight for the worst job in Washington. Who will emerge from the morass as the next Grand High Turd of the Kooky Kakistocrat Kaucus? Will it be Steve “David Duke Sans Baggage” Scalise? Gym “Feel Free to Molest Wrestlers in the Cloakroom” Jordan, who earned the coveted endorsement of Inmate P01135809? Or possibly Kevin “Also a Congressman, Apparently” Hern?
Better vote quick, campers, cuz George Santos could be hauled off to prison at any moment, especially now that his former campaign treasurer has taken a plea deal, and implicated him in campaign finance fraud.
John Kelly confirmed all those stories about the Velveeta Vulgarian calling our troops “losers” and rubbing his butt on the graves of the fallen and whatnot are totally true, a revelation that will surely cost him electoral support with an evangelical base that’s notoriously as repelled by disrespect for the military as they are by lying, stealing, inciting violence, and illegally paying thousands of dollars to conceal extramarital affairs with porn stars.
Barred from all the really cool one-percenter clubs after falling off the Forbes 400, Off-Brand Orbán aimlessly wandered the streets of New York until he stumbled, purely by chance, into one of the many courtrooms where he’s on trial. He lingered for a few days to antagonize the judge, which is the sort of thing only the very stablest of geniuses do.
He earned himself a gag order, for dropping Judge Engoron’s principal law clerk in his loyal murder mob’s crosshairs, (with an assist from the shrieking heads at Fox Nooz) as part of his ongoing campaign to terrorize the justice system into submission. Beyond that, he mostly just whined about not getting the jury trial his own equally stable, equally genius lawyers declined to request.
Say, if there’re any spare gag orders laying around, maybe somebody can get this goon to stop blabbing our nuclear secrets to every foreign billionaire and Russian intelligence officer that wanders by? Probably wouldn’t hurt to discourage the Hitler-y language, while we’re at it.
Meanwhile, the Dotard dropped his retaliatory lawsuit against Michael Cohen, rather than sit for a deposition under oath, amidst the customary cavalcade of legal setbacks. (With more to come, given the inanity of the week’s fresh filings.)
“How many voters does it take to screw in a lightbulb,” asked Greg Gutfeld, Fox’s resident comedian. “Trick question, elections don’t work, try civil war instead!” Greg’ll get his very own sitcom in the Reich to come, about a single dad trying to raise a couple of (white) kids on a concentration camp guard’s salary, called Who’s the Gruppenführer?
In a desperate bid to get someone to pay his legal bills, outstanding taxes, and tab at Four Seasons Total Malt Liquor, Rudy Giuliani announced he’s suing the President, alleging Biden ruined his reputation. Unless you’ve got footage of Joe donning a hyper-realistic, Mission: Impossible-style Rudy mask right before every single one of your public appearances over the last five years, I don’t like your chances, kid.
Speaking of unpaid bills, seems the pillow money finally ran out, leaving Mike Lindell lawyerless before the voting machine companies he’s been so vigorously defaming. In the end, Dominion may have to settle for Fox’s $787 million plus a coupon for 20% off a shitty comforter.
It’s actually been a banner week for stories about shitbags going broke, which brings us to Lil’ Ronnie DiSappointus, who finds himself with barely enough cash on hand to cover the funnel cake budget on the state fair circuit. Pro tip to any GOP megadonors reading this: next time, maybe check to make sure your boy can approximate human facial expressions before investing too many millions.
Plus, rumor has it the state of Arkansas may soon file for bankruptcy, under the crushing weight of Governor Sarah Huckleberry Slanders’ $20,000-a-day podium habit.
Busloads of antifas descended upon Vivek Ramaswamy’s car in Iowa, seeking to tear the prattling gadfly limb from limb for loving America too much. Okay, admittedly, that didn’t technically “happen,” but I heard it from this furry kid who was shitting in a litter box, so I reported it anyway.
New Jersey State Assembly candidate Joseph Viso is sorry about that one time he smeared feces on that one children’s daycare center, he was simply upset because “Obama came into office the year before.” How Obama was responsible for Viso’s 2016 conviction for conspiracy to distribute Methylone was unclear at press time.
So, some prime specimen of MAGA masculinity got arrested for carrying a handgun in the Wisconsin Capitol, while shirtlessly seeking an impromptu audience with Governor Tony Evers, which is the sort of thing that happens every day now, in our exceptionally healthy democracy. I only bring it up because as soon as the little freak posted bail, he returned to the Capitol, this time with an assault rifle. Alas, the dude was hospitalized before he could complete the trifecta, with a nail gun or a Sherman tank or whatever.
Well, it took the full fury of the dastardly deep state, but Lara Trump’s cover of Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” has been successfully cheated of its rightful place as our next national anthem. When you look the song up on Spotify, Dr. Fauci shows up at your front door and administers a special, ivermectin-proof variant of the Covid vaccine that beams Hillary Clinton speeches directly into your mind via 5G.
Speaking of Hillary, she triggered Cult45 again, by calling them a cult, which is what they are. WHY, IT’S THE BASKET OF DEPLORABLES COMMENT ALL OVER AGAIN, they screeched…from their basket.
Okay, that’s about all I can stand for one week. If you’re still readin’, and you want to support the blog, I’m rebuilding the following on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter @john_luzar, in addition to the email list at showercapblog.com, plus there’s always room for another 6 pack in the ol’ beer fridge. Until we meet again, you stay safe out there, chum…
Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Goodbye (Ferret)
There once was a boy called Kevin McSomething, who ventured out into the world, looking to swap his soul for something shiny and hollow. The old witch who lived in the dumpster in back of the abandoned Blockbuster Video offered him half a pack of stale cookie dough bites and a VHS copy of Turner & Hooch, but Kevin said, “Oh, I bet I can get MUCH less than that!” and on he skipped, tra lee, tra la, until he came upon the Republican Party.
(As ever, links and the shiniest of colors await those bold enough to click here: https://showercapblog.com/na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-hey-hey-hey-goodbye/)
The rest, sad to say, is history, and if literacy is still a thing when we come out the other side of this shitshow, the textbooks will remember Speaker McCarthy as perhaps the single bootlickingest stooge in the craven cabal that sought to sell American democracy to a game show host who regularly brags about passing a cognitive test. Ask not for whom the face-eating leopard yowls, Kevin; it yowls for thee.
Under the terms McCarthy shrewdly negotiated with those unmatched leadership skillz of his, the Speaker serves at the pleasure of the skeeviest attention whore in his caucus, so Matt Gaetz pulverized a couple Viagra tablets, snorted ‘em off Andy Biggs’ ass, and dispatched his boss to a farm upstate, where he’ll have plenty of room to run around and play with the other “Young Guns.”
Naturally, the Party of Personal Responsibility™️ blamed Keville Chamberlain’s defenestration on Democrats, who were supposed to bail their election-denying, default-threatening, sham impeachment-pushing, fascism-enabling asses out “for the good of the country.” Why, the mewling “moderates” who cave to the radical fringe every. single. motherfucking. time. are even squawking about quitting the Problem Solvers Caucus.
GASP!
Not…THE PROBLEM SOLVERS CAUCUS!
(I assume you have fainted and recovered by now. Moving on.)
Kevin kicked off his Speaker Emeritus phase with all the class and dignity we’ve come to expect from him, ordering his buffoonish placeholder replacement to evict Nancy Pelosi from her office, while she attended Diane Feinstein’s funeral in California, so he could move in. Go for it, bro; you’ll always look two inches tall in her shadow.
Now he’s talking about fleeing Congress altogether. Good. May you pass the remainder of your days in sandpaper underpants, you spineless chickenshit.
Anyway, now begins the assclown slap fight for the worst job in Washington. Who will emerge from the morass as the next Grand High Turd of the Kooky Kakistocrat Kaucus? Will it be Steve “David Duke Sans Baggage” Scalise? Gym “Feel Free to Molest Wrestlers in the Cloakroom” Jordan, who earned the coveted endorsement of Inmate P01135809? Or possibly Kevin “Also a Congressman, Apparently” Hern?
Better vote quick, campers, cuz George Santos could be hauled off to prison at any moment, especially now that his former campaign treasurer has taken a plea deal, and implicated him in campaign finance fraud.
John Kelly confirmed all those stories about the Velveeta Vulgarian calling our troops “losers” and rubbing his butt on the graves of the fallen and whatnot are totally true, a revelation that will surely cost him electoral support with an evangelical base that’s notoriously as repelled by disrespect for the military as they are by lying, stealing, inciting violence, and illegally paying thousands of dollars to conceal extramarital affairs with porn stars.
Barred from all the really cool one-percenter clubs after falling off the Forbes 400, Off-Brand Orbán aimlessly wandered the streets of New York until he stumbled, purely by chance, into one of the many courtrooms where he’s on trial. He lingered for a few days to antagonize the judge, which is the sort of thing only the very stablest of geniuses do.
He earned himself a gag order, for dropping Judge Engoron’s principal law clerk in his loyal murder mob’s crosshairs, (with an assist from the shrieking heads at Fox Nooz) as part of his ongoing campaign to terrorize the justice system into submission. Beyond that, he mostly just whined about not getting the jury trial his own equally stable, equally genius lawyers declined to request.
Say, if there’re any spare gag orders laying around, maybe somebody can get this goon to stop blabbing our nuclear secrets to every foreign billionaire and Russian intelligence officer that wanders by? Probably wouldn’t hurt to discourage the Hitler-y language, while we’re at it.
Meanwhile, the Dotard dropped his retaliatory lawsuit against Michael Cohen, rather than sit for a deposition under oath, amidst the customary cavalcade of legal setbacks. (With more to come, given the inanity of the week’s fresh filings.)
“How many voters does it take to screw in a lightbulb,” asked Greg Gutfeld, Fox’s resident comedian. “Trick question, elections don’t work, try civil war instead!” Greg’ll get his very own sitcom in the Reich to come, about a single dad trying to raise a couple of (white) kids on a concentration camp guard’s salary, called Who’s the Gruppenführer?
In a desperate bid to get someone to pay his legal bills, outstanding taxes, and tab at Four Seasons Total Malt Liquor, Rudy Giuliani announced he’s suing the President, alleging Biden ruined his reputation. Unless you’ve got footage of Joe donning a hyper-realistic, Mission: Impossible-style Rudy mask right before every single one of your public appearances over the last five years, I don’t like your chances, kid.
Speaking of unpaid bills, seems the pillow money finally ran out, leaving Mike Lindell lawyerless before the voting machine companies he’s been so vigorously defaming. In the end, Dominion may have to settle for Fox’s $787 million plus a coupon for 20% off a shitty comforter.
It’s actually been a banner week for stories about shitbags going broke, which brings us to Lil’ Ronnie DiSappointus, who finds himself with barely enough cash on hand to cover the funnel cake budget on the state fair circuit. Pro tip to any GOP megadonors reading this: next time, maybe check to make sure your boy can approximate human facial expressions before investing too many millions.
Plus, rumor has it the state of Arkansas may soon file for bankruptcy, under the crushing weight of Governor Sarah Huckleberry Slanders’ $20,000-a-day podium habit.
Busloads of antifas descended upon Vivek Ramaswamy’s car in Iowa, seeking to tear the prattling gadfly limb from limb for loving America too much. Okay, admittedly, that didn’t technically “happen,” but I heard it from this furry kid who was shitting in a litter box, so I reported it anyway.
New Jersey State Assembly candidate Joseph Viso is sorry about that one time he smeared feces on that one children’s daycare center, he was simply upset because “Obama came into office the year before.” How Obama was responsible for Viso’s 2016 conviction for conspiracy to distribute Methylone was unclear at press time.
So, some prime specimen of MAGA masculinity got arrested for carrying a handgun in the Wisconsin Capitol, while shirtlessly seeking an impromptu audience with Governor Tony Evers, which is the sort of thing that happens every day now, in our exceptionally healthy democracy. I only bring it up because as soon as the little freak posted bail, he returned to the Capitol, this time with an assault rifle. Alas, the dude was hospitalized before he could complete the trifecta, with a nail gun or a Sherman tank or whatever.
Well, it took the full fury of the dastardly deep state, but Lara Trump’s cover of Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” has been successfully cheated of its rightful place as our next national anthem. When you look the song up on Spotify, Dr. Fauci shows up at your front door and administers a special, ivermectin-proof variant of the Covid vaccine that beams Hillary Clinton speeches directly into your mind via 5G.
Speaking of Hillary, she triggered Cult45 again, by calling them a cult, which is what they are. WHY, IT’S THE BASKET OF DEPLORABLES COMMENT ALL OVER AGAIN, they screeched…from their basket.
Okay, that’s about all I can stand for one week. If you’re still readin’, and you want to support the blog, I’m rebuilding the following on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter @john_luzar, in addition to the email list at showercapblog.com, plus there’s always room for another 6 pack in the ol’ beer fridge. Until we meet again, you stay safe out there, chum…
He Shall Be Known Henceforth as Kevin McLeadership (Ferret)
Remember, this is the Republican Party when they’ve had plenty of time to prepare. A presidential primary debate. The impeachment hearing they’ve dreamt of since Biden first whooped their boy’s ass. As we gather here to gape at ineptitude that simply should not be possible at this rung on the evolutionary ladder, never forget…they are sending their very, very best.
(Some technical difficulties tonight, but links await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/he-shall-be-known-henceforth-as-kevin-mcleadership/)
Our expectations of Speaker McCarthy have crumbled to the point where it qualifies as breaking news whenever he manages to navigate a basic procedural vote without lighting his own scrotum on fire. Seriously, I got a CNN push notification this morning: “Holy crud, took him a week, but the little dweeb actually managed to open debate on his doomed continuing resolution!”
I suppose it’s marginally more impressive when you note he pulled it off with Matt Gaetz nipping at his heels, (and you’ll want to get any bites checked out by a medical professional right away, Kev) gleefully plotting his overthrow.
Anyway, Kevin was permitted scarcely a moment to bask in the triumphal push notification glow before twenty-one members of his feral caucus torpedoed the CR, sending Gaetz once more a-braying before the assembled cameras.
However, anticipating failure, McCarthy had previously dispatched Jims Comer and Jordan on a last minute mission to make the American public believe their government is so gobsmackingly fucking stupid that none of us will ever be safe until it’s shut down forever. And if they didn’t quite pull it off, well, it wasn’t for want of trying.
It’s baffling that anyone anywhere expects success from these clowns at this point, isn’t it? We’ve been watching James Comer drop bowling ball after bowling ball on his own groin, from increasingly great heights, since January. Who on Earth imagined this overmatched clod could pull an impeachment inquiry off?
Honestly, whether you were amused or appalled that he called witnesses who testified that there’s no evidence supporting impeachment, you certainly weren’t surprised. Of course, no one expected Jimmy to clear the “impossibly high bar” of actually proving his asinine claims.
Indeed, after numerous traumatic collisions with reality, the would-be impeachers retreated to their alternate reality safe space on Hannity, where there are no pesky journalists or former Ukrainian Presidents to debunk their bullshit.
Coming to theatres this Xmas, from the director of My Son Hunter: DEAD GRIFT WALKING, the heart-rending tale of one con man’s family business receiving the “corporate death penalty” following years of brazen, unrepentant fraud. Starring Sean Penn as the Trump Organization, and Louise Linton, who’s garnering Oscar buzz as some sort of hot, evil nun.
Hey, speaking of the death penalty, the 45th President of the United States and current Republican frontrunner celebrated Mark Milley’s retirement by publicly calling for the outgoing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs’ execution, part of his election season ratcheting-up of the ol’ stochastic terror apparatus.
(Maybe that’s what the Glock was for, but alas, the indicted are prohibited from purchasing murder machines, so the Dotard narrowly avoided a 92nd charge there. Ah well, he wouldn’t have been able to fire it anyway, with those stunted, ineffectual phalanges.)
Equally executable (with an emphasis on CUTE) are pop diva Taylor Swift and her rumored new beau, extra-fancy football man Travis Kelce, who earned Cult45’s wrath by virtue of being successful, and vaccinated. Oh, and I guess Travis has done Bud Light commercials, so he’s just perfect for the Two Minutes Hate.
Now Th’Federalist says Swift’s music is responsible for the downfall of western civilization, granting hip hop and unwed mothers a welcome respite. Various creeps n’ incels proclaimed her “homely” and a “gold digger.” And yes, Stew Peters would like to see the happy couple put to death. It’s all very healthy and normal.
For reasons that’re far from clear, Nikki Haley and the However Many Dwarves gathered at the Ronald Reagan Memorial Wiffle Ball Field to bicker over who gets to give the last concession speech in the humiliatingly-not-even-about-the-veep-slot-anymore “Republican primary.”
Tim Scott suggested “Johnson’s Great Society” was harder for Black families to survive than slavery, which I’ll grant was expertly targeted pandering, and if he can figure out how to get over the more, ahem, obvious hurdles in his path, Tim might just have a future in this white nationalist resentment cult.
Beyond that, outside of some controversy over an alleged epidemic of teachers fornicating, the evening primarily involved the purgatorial torment of time spent with Vivek Ramaswamy. Shoot, it wasn’t till almost 70 minutes in that anybody noticed Bobby Jindal had somehow snuck onstage and offered an immigration plan.
Republican donors apparently found this display of grating futility so discouraging, they’re once again indulging in fantasies of Glenn Youngkin appearing on the horizon, leading a cavalry charge that magically delivers the GOP from a decade of cowardice and shitty choices. Great plan, you guys. I bet it works.
Maybe they should draft Jennifer Petersen, the stay-at-home mom who devotes her ample free time to reading books (yay!) so she can ban them, (boo!) unless maybe Kim Davis is available?
Recently convicted Trumpworld dingleberry Peter Navarro bemoaned the treacherous “pimp ladies” assailing poor, put-upon feminist icon Donald J. Trump, (the “J” stands for “Just lost in court to E. Jean Carroll again”) suggesting as a solution hanging a great big No Girls Allowed sign on the door in the Reich to come.
Scott Hall became the first co-defendant in the Georgia election interference case to take a plea deal, yet another legal setback for the career crook who had to renegotiate his prenup because his wife was worried the lawyers’d wind up with everything.
Incidentally, while I was drafting tonight’s post, Tangerine Idi Amin gave an extra-fashy speech in California, complete with calls for extrajudicial violence, and a Paul Pelosi joke, both big hits with the assembled wingnut donors. No wonder Republican voters see him as “a person of faith.”
In contrast, Joe Biden somehow managed to get through the whole week without celebrating one single act of political violence, instead joining striking auto workers on the picket line, and delivering another stem-winder on the general awesomeness of democracy. Oddly, Fox seems mostly interested in covering his dog.
Okay, I’m gonna grab a beer and watch the government shut down. If you enjoyed this post, you can support the blog by joining the email list, following @john_luzar on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, or kicking in a buck or two to keep the mini fridge stocked.
I Saw Hoodie Fetterman With the Devil, and Other Crucible Jokes That Don't Quite Work (Ferret!)
Historians will surely mark this week as the precise moment American decline became irreversible, as John Fetterman presided over the United States Senate wearing pasties and a g-string, while Susan Collins go-go danced in a shark cage suspended above Josh Hawley’s desk. Indeed, at this point, the only thing preventing the total collapse of the nation’s economy is David Brooks’ drinking habit.
(You know the drills. Links n’ shininess here: https://showercapblog.com/i-saw-hoodie-fetterman-with-the-devil-and-other-crucible-jokes-that-dont-quite-work/)
Kevin McCarthy was far too busy stepping on rakes and running crotch-first into furniture corners to meet with Volodymyr Zelensky, so he vetoed a proposed joint congressional address, which spared the Ukrainian president the embarrassment of getting molested by Lauren Boebert, anyway.
On a certain level, it’s not really fair to ask McCarthy to lead the House through a shutdown crisis. It’s like asking an emu to quarterback the Dallas Cowboys. But bless his heart, Kevin somehow always manages to blow right past my frankly cruelly low expectations.
I don’t mean to minimize the challenges inherent in corralling a horde of preening hyenas, but when you spend a week watching this clod repeatedly fail to coax his Republican majority into even opening debate on a freakin’ defense appropriations bill, you can’t help but think, “Hey, who let that emu out on the field? And how’d they get those cleats on him?”
Gonna be a ride, folks. Don’t plan on visiting any national parks any time soon.
Indicted co-conspirator Jenna Ellis stuck with Inmate P01135809 through murderous pandemic mismanagement and bloody insurrection, but when he refused to pay her legal bills, suddenly she noticed he’s a “malignant narcissist.” Welcome to the party, Jenna. Help yourself to some horse paste, we picked it up just for you.
Ellis is now widely expected to flip on her old boss, joining former aide Molly Michael, who told federal investigators the Dotard used classified documents as scratch paper for to-do lists and such. No doubt there’re plans for military strikes on Iran with lewd little missives to Ivanka scrawled in the margins.
We’re told Wee Donnie One-Term has grown increasingly anxious about the prospect of doing serious prison time, and no wonder, since he just torpedoed his own last-ditch legal defense on Meet the Press. Not only are you absolutely destined to pass the remainder of your days in “one of those jumpsuits,” bro, they’re tailoring yours for a guy who’s 6’3” and 215 pounds.
Following his criticism of Florida’s six-week ban, anti-abortion activists complained the Velveeta Vulgarian sold them out like they were, I dunno, our Kurdish allies in Syria or somethin’, but what’re they gonna do about it, back DeSantis?
The pre-mortems are already rolling in, as Ron has fallen to fifth place in New Hampshire, behind Nikki Haley, Chris Christie, and a surprisingly strong write-in campaign for Kevin Sorbo. Team DiSappointus’ steadily plummeting ambitions have already landed on “finishing a strong second in Iowa,” en route to the inevitable “securing a decent seat at Scott Walker’s monthly euchre game.”
On the eve of Mark Milley’s retirement, The Atlantic took us on a whimsical stroll down memory lane through his tenure as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the Fall of the Turd Reich, recounting such timeless anecdotes as Yes, Mr. President, Guam is Part of America (And Therefore We Should Not Let North Korea Nuke It), and Wounded Veterans Sure Are Gross, Huh?
And hey, Chuck Schumer even managed to sneak Milley’s replacement past Tommy Tuberville, by distracting the Alabama Senator with that trick where you make it look like you’re pulling the top half of your thumb off. He screamed and passed out.
Merrick Garland thought he could get away with using taxpayer dollars to sponsor Hunter Biden’s Naked Bike Ride in Support of the Criminalization of Catholicism™️, but against the veritable wad of Columbos comprising Gym Jordan’s House Judiciary Committee crew, he never stood a chance.
Well, the cricket-infested Texas Senate officially granted cartoonishly corrupt attorney general Ken Paxton the license to commit all the crime he likes, which’ll certainly come in handy on his eagerly anticipated revenge tour. Now, Paxton’s making obscene squawks about a primary challenge to Senator Cornyn, a helpful reminder of the one fundamental truth of Republican politics: somehow, they always, ALWAYS find someone even shittier.
Son of Skidmark’s Xwitter account got hacked, almost certainly because his password was something ridiculously easy to guess, like “12345” or “password” or “Whydoesn’tdaddyloveme?”
Incidentally, I wonder what Elon’s blaming on th’Jews this week? Oh, nothing much, just “the destruction of western civilization.” Off-Brand Orbán, in contrast, targets only the liberal Jews, which is downright moderate of him. Shana Tovah, everybody!
Rupert Murdoch announced he’s stepping down as Archbishop of Propaganda to spend more time with the ravenous demonic entities that come into focus a little more clearly each day as the contract he signed at that crossroads outside Melbourne approaches maturity. Full disclosure: I haven’t seen Succession yet, so I will be unable to fulfill audience expectations for the duration of this paragraph. As always, you may return any unused portion of this blog for a full refund.
While Missouri State Senator and Republican gubernatorial candidate Bill Eigel wasn’t actually burning books in a viral video, he expressed openness to burning books in the future, “on the front lawn of the governor’s mansion,” which would be a pretty shitty thing to do to the groundskeeper, on top of the, y’know, fascist overtones.
Seems Amerikkka’s Mayor was so ensorcelled by the atmosphere of impending mob violence on January 6th, 2021 that he simply could not refrain from groping Cassidy Hutchinson. Forgive me if I’m unable to muster any sympathy for the longtime lawyer Giuliani apparently stiffed, by the way. Get in line, pal, behind the Georgia election workers Rudy harassed and defamed.
New reporting yet again revealed Clarence Thomas’ brazen corruption runs even deeper than previously known, and I already used the gag about cutting and pasting a paragraph into future blogs to save time, didn’t I? Dangit.
Speaking of brazen corruption that runs even deeper than previously known, perhaps if we all chipped in for a gold bar or two, Bob Menendez could be enticed into early retirement. Tired of this jag fartin’ up the air on the moral high ground, y’know?
Bob’s indictment is, of course, merely a DoJ plot to create the illusion of impartiality, just like the Hunter Biden charges, and especially the charges Ray Epps just pleaded guilty to. That wily deep state’ll sneak right up on ya, if you’re not careful.
Amidst yet another round of layoffs, Project Veritas announced the indefinite suspension of all operations, and that’s certainly wonderful news, but I feel like karma still owes us some hemorrhoids and wasp stings here.
Anyway, to get back to the genuinely important shit, I do believe that United States senators should adhere to a fairly formal dress code, but as a body double replacement, obviously this wouldn’t apply to “Senator Fetterman.” That’s just common sense.
Well, assuming the emu’s shutdown doesn’t disrupt the alcohol supply chain, I should be back next week…though it might not hurt to restock the beer fridge, just in case. As always, I appreciate your kind support. Stay safe out there, m’lovelies…
(Still working to rebuild the following at the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, where I can now be found @john_luzar)
Romney Retires; Boebert Jacks Guy Off in Public (Ferret!)
Back in September, 2012, on the very night the famous 47% video leaked, I was approached by a man claiming to be a time traveler from the future, who snickeringly insisted I’d miss Mittens when his career in electoral politics finally ended. Naturally, I dismissed this as the raving of a lunatic, owing in no small part to the bathrobe and luchador mask the man wore.
(The preceding gag makes more sense on my site, as will most of this post: https://showercapblog.com/romney-retires-boebert-jacks-guy-off-in-public/)
But now, as Willard rides off into the sunset, with the family dog strapped to the roof of his horse, a dumbfounded nation wonders just how the fuck it landed at a point where a dressage horse-owning vulture capitalist retiring from the Senate would be considered anything but wonderful news.
I’ll leave the complexities of his legacy to the thinkpiecesmiths at the fancy magazines, but for tonight, I’m willing to focus on what unites us, like shared disdain for taint remoras like Josh Hawley and JD Vance.
Kevin McCarthy was on the hottest streak of his speakership. But then, the House’s six-week summer recess ended, and he had no choice but to clock back in at the job he does so very, very poorly. Hope we survive.
Watching Kev’s Kooky Kakistocrats go about their business is like watching turds knife-fight in a burning dumpster. Extrapolating conservatively from the week’s events, it’s reasonable to assume that by the time you read this, Kevin will be stumbling around the Republican cloakroom with his face stuck in a plunger, emitting muffled cries for aid, while Chip Roy crawls on the ceiling like the Trainspotting baby, hissing periodically.
Poor Keville Chamberlain figured a baseless impeachment hearing would serve as a suitable Sudetenland substitute for the let-it-all-burn corner of his caucus, but as usual, he was wrong. (Because he’s a fucking idiot, you see.) When a skeevy little crotchrash like Matt Gaetz can casually stroll onto the House floor to threaten you in the broad light of day, one thing you are definitely not is in charge.
Near as I can figure, the plan is to shut down the government unless everyone agrees to replace the Constitution with This One Wet Dream Grover Norquist Had After Huffing Ether With Steve Bannon, and accepting anything less earns McCarthy a one-way ticket to the Old Speaker’s Home upstate, where he’ll be spoon-fed soft foods, and pass his remaining days staring off into empty space alongside the defeated, expressionless husks of Paul Ryan and John Boehner.
On the impeachment push, I think the emergence of Ken freakin’ Buck as the voice of reason demonstrates how far down the rabbit hole we’ve fallen. Marjorie Taylor Greene has denounced Ken as a commie RINO traitor for spoiling the fun by drawing attention to the lack of supporting evidence, and she’s now proposing legislation to commandeer the Jewish space lasers to deal with his heresy.
Incidentally, the most pro-terrorist member of the U.S. House of Representatives celebrated 9/11 by once again calling for secession, but what Joe Biden did was way worse, marking the anniversary in some foreign shithole called, like, “Alaska,” I wanna say?
Succumbing once more to his losing-in-court kink, Off-Brand Orbán filed a motion seeking Judge Tanya Chutkan’s recusal from…from…oh hell, one of the trials, who can keep ‘em all straight? Chutkan couldn’t possibly preside fairly, y’see, given her well-documented anti-terrorism bias.
He’s suing one of the other judges, too…the fraud trial, maybe? My scorecard is completely fucking illegible at this point. And now I see Jack Smith’s asking him to kindly refrain from terrorizing witnesses and potential jurors, a request he has handled with his customary grace and dignity.
Also, the Velveeta Vulgarian sat down with Megyn Kelly, to chat about Santa’s inherent whiteness, and to helpfully confess to several of the crimes he’s been charged with. Kelly, to her credit, managed to get through the whole hour without any blood coming out of her wherever. Hopefully they can do a follow-up, where they get to the bottom of precisely who gave Dr. Fauci that presidential commendation he signed.
Pootie Tang wants the mean ol’ American justice system to stop persecutin’ his little buddy, and maybe he’ll find time to issue another statement to that effect once he’s done begging Kim Jong-un for ammunition. You wouldn’t happen to have any spare submarines lying around, wouldja, comrade?
I, like tens, if not hundreds of millions of Americans, slept soundly for the first time in goodness knows how long, secure in the knowledge that the nation’s most notorious falsifier of ATF form 4473 would finally face incict-y, special counsel-y justice. I’d like to thank all those brave patriots who made this day possible, by threatening the prosecutors and FBI agents on the Hunter Biden beat; America is finally great again, nice work.
Seems free speech absolutist Elon Musk has been “throttling” the New York Times like it was, I dunno, a Ukrainian sea drone headed for the child-murdering Russian fleet or somethin’. He probably just doesn’t want anything distracting folks from his posts parroting the Chinese Communist Party line. Or the anti-Semitism. Anyway, it’s the ADL’s fault.
Meanwhile, Wisconsin Republicans continued their authoritarian assault on democracy, and also their other authoritarian assault on democracy.
Ronnie DiSappointus attempted to reverse his collapse into nonexistence by circling back to vaccine disinformation, that old chestnut, during the latest Covid surge. Yeah, killing off the handful of folks still paying attention seems like sound strategy, Governor. Proceed.
Elsewhere in the shared delusion some insist upon referring to as a presidential primary, Nikki “the Normal One” Haley added failed Senate candidate/furry litter box detective Don Bolduc as her New Hampshire campaign chair, while Chris Christie pledged to dog the Dotard’s heels, where’er he may roam, presumably to fetch his McDonald’s. And Doug Burgum shot a man, just to watch him die. Possibly. Who would know?
Foghorn Leghorn, down on his luck in this age of CGI and AI, has been reduced to phone sex work, the latest tragic…hang on, I’m receiving a correction…I see, yes. My mistake, that was actually Louisiana Senator John Kennedy, during a Judiciary Committee hearing.
Ron Johnson thinks windmills are somehow “killing the whales.” With sound. Windmills emit sinister, whale-destroying noises, according to the (checks notes) three-term U.S. Senator. Sigh. As always, this installment of the smash hit segment Stupid Fake Shit Ron Johnson Believes is brought to you by Acme brand horse paste, the paste your horse (and also your cousin who never left home) craves most.
Should future denizens of DeSantistan, brains rotted by PragerU videos, select Marco Rubio for enshrinement in the Capitol rotunda, he will surely be depicted furiously waving a copy of Sound of Freedom, probably on VHS, in commemoration of his heroic struggle to restore a couple of cancelled military screenings of the QAnon favorite. Truly, giants walk among us.
Word on the street is Kristi Noem and Corey Lewandowski have been making the beast with two backs and no brains. And it would be so great if that was the grossest thing we had to talk about tonight.
However.
Two hours ago, I thought the following paragraph would sufficiently serve this blog post’s needs:
“Lauren Boebert staged her own, personal microriot at the Buell Theatre in Denver, vaping next to a pregnant woman, and attempting to overturn the “Jump in the Line” scene of Beetlejuice: the Musical, alleging it was “rigged.” Fortunately, she was thwarted before she could storm the stage and bear-spray the actor portraying Otho.”
But there’s been a late-breaking update to the story. So late-breaking, in fact, that I’m unable to compose an accompanying gag, but it’s not like I could hope to improve on Boebert Appeared to Fondle Date’s Penis in Packed Theater as She Put His Hand on Her Breasts.
Looking forward to all the devout family values types demanding her resignation for handjobbing a dude in a room full of families with children, aren’t you?
…I get why Mitt would walk away, is all I’m sayin’. And I think the one thing I’d say to him tonight would have to be FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, TAKE ME WITH YOU. But I doubt there’s room in the car elevator, so I’m stuck here. At least there’s beer. And with that ever-so-subtle rattle of the tip jar, (now accepting Venmo and PayPal!) I’ll sign off for now. You stay safe out there, friend. And yeah, join me on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, @john_luzar if you’re so inclined.
"People Doing Poems on Aircraft Carriers" & Other Atrocities (Ferret!)
Well, the Republican Party continues its mad, manic spiral into authoritarianism, white supremacy, and violence, but on the other hand, Joe Biden is old, so y’know…both sidez, y’all. This is Chuck Todd, filling in for Shower Cap. And now, the news:
(You know the drill, links version here: https://showercapblog.com/people-doing-poems-on-aircraft-carriers-other-atrocities/)
The GOP’s presidential front-runner was found liable for defaming the woman he was previously found liable for sexually assaulting, and yet again I find myself shamed by the dazzling moral purity of the religious right. I repent of my heathen beliefs, that lying and rape are wrong. What a fool I’ve been.
And Off-Brand Orbán’s DiMaggio-esque getting-whooped-in-court streak rolled on with no signs of slowing, as Marm-a-Lago IT guy Yuscil Taveras flipped on him, joining the ever-growing list of co-defendants coming to the eminently reasonable conclusion that going to prison for a conspiracy of dipshits who won’t stop publicly confessing doesn’t make a lick of sense.
Oh, and Ann Coulter called him a “gigantic pussy.” I bet Ivanka still won’t fuck him, either.
Animatronic Chuck E. Cheese rat granted a hideous approximation of life by a monkey’s paw Ron DeSantis refused to meet with President Biden during the latter’s visit to hurricane-damaged Florida communities, calculating that a little petulant cowardice might reverse his freefall in the polls.
Bro, that ship has sailed, sunk, and been excavated during a live National Geographic special titled What’s Realer: Atlantis, or Ron DeSantis’ Chances at Ever Getting Elected President? It is 31 flavors of over, son.
Then again, perhaps the death cult can be enticed with the prospect of extralegal violence targeting migrants? Why not swing on down, take in a little of the culture the Governor has built in Florida? Ok, tell you what, how about taxpayer-funded PS5s and Disney tix for homeschoolers? No? I understand. Ron’s personality defects were clearly pander-proof from the beginning.
Anyway, Nikki Haley & the However Many Dwarves spent the week trying and failing to generate attention, and I bet it would save time if I simply cut and paste this sentence into every blog between now and Iowa.
After obliterating 90% of his expensive new toy’s value in less than a year, Elon Musk found himself in dire, desperate need of a scapegoat. But after making so many epically fucking stupid decisions in full view of the entire world, how could even the richest man alive, equipped with (the tattered remnants of) his own, personal social media platform, hope to deflect culpability?
Inspiration struck like a thunderbolt. “By Jove, I’ve got it! I shall blame…the Jews!”
And blame the Jews he did, visions of reclaiming his squandered billions by suing the Anti-Defamation League dancing through his otherwise pudding-filled noggin.
We also learned Elon sabotaged a Ukrainian military strike on the Russian fleet, thereby enabling months of murderous missile launches, because he truly is what he appears to be: the bad guy from the eighth installment of some irritatingly labyrinthine James Bond fanfic where they kept casting George Lazenby.
Former Grand High Proud Boi (Who Pulls Up His Own Pants and Everything) Enrique Tarrio won a 22-year reprieve from stressful decisions like “should I go someplace today” and “when will the lights in my bedroom go on and off,” such are the wages of seditious conspiracy. Well…bye.
Of course, nothing pisses Cult45 off quite like watching terrorists pay for their crimes. I haven’t seen Sarah Palin this upset since the last time one of her shitsack kids got arrested.
Watch out, America, if 2024 doesn’t go Mike Huckabee’s way, he’s gonna gather all his pedophile pals and large adult sons together and start shootin’ up the joint! Like so many Republicans, Mike’s caught Civil War Fever, but don’t worry, it’s nothing a few doses of horse paste can’t fix.
Wisconsin Republicans have no intention of allowing a trivial inconvenience like the clearly stated will of the electorate to interfere with their minoritarian stranglehold on political power, so they’re looking into impeaching newly elected Supreme Court Justice Janet Protasiewicz before she hears a single case. You give the plebs an inch of self-determination, they’ll take a mile, y’know.
Ordered to redraw their hellaciously racist congressional gerrymander to include a second majority-Black district, Alabama Republicans instead exhumed George Wallace’s skeleton and left it, middle fingers fully extended, on the courthouse steps, so an additional judicial spanking has been administered. Boy, good thing John Roberts realized racism is over and gutted the Voting Rights Act, huh?
Senator Sherlock Tuberville uncovered the dastardly deep state plot to feminize and woke-ify the U.S. military via “people doing poems on aircraft carriers,” so the Illuminati had to act fast to contain the damage. At press time, doctors were uncertain Tuberville would recover from the 3-6 new assholes Navy Secretary Carlos Del Toro tore him on CNN.
Well, whaddya know, Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis actually declined to prosecute a number of prominent traitors, despite grand jury recommendations, including ascendant American fascism’s yappiest lapdog, Senator Lindsey Graham.
And you’d think Lindsey would look upon the smoking wreckage of what was once Jim Jordan, and simply express gratitude at managing to stay out of Hurricane Fani’s path, but it’s just not in his nature. Kissing Donnie Dotard’s ass sure is, though.
During a rare break from decorating Trump mugshots with his seed, Jesse Watters stumbled out in front of his prime time Fox audience to ask, “Is the government controlling the weather with laser beams?” so if you thought the $787 million Dominion defamation payout would slow the Marjorie Taylor Greenification of the wingnut media bubble…think again.
Speaking of Marj, Rolling Stone took us “Inside MTG and Kari Lake’s ‘Death Race’ To Become Trump’s VP.” If you’re wondering what such a race entails, see, Jason Miller puts a paper bag over each participant’s head, and then they wait to see who wanders into traffic or starves to death first.
JD Vance thinks schoolchildren who don’t want to catch preventable, potentially lethal diseases are sissies, and that maybe they’d toughen the fuck up if we mandated wedgies and swirlies instead of masks.
Republican strategists have apparently deluded themselves into believing they can rebrand their way out of the electoral consequences of stealing bodily autonomy from millions of American women, so they’re looking for a snazzy replacement for the old, stale, “pro-life” label. Coming soon: Diet, Caffeine-Free Patriarchy! With Splenda! It’s LIT!
Peter Navarro finally earned the coveted Trump Scout “convicted of a federal crime” merit badge, but at least he made a new friend. Meanwhile, Mark Meadows lost his bid to move his Fulton County case to federal court, while remaining largely friendless.
Turns out Jeffrey Clark is more than just the fashy little bureautwerp who volunteered to rubber stamp any edict necessary to facilitate the destruction of American democracy, he’s also a religious weirdo, who denounced the Burning Man festival as “a neopagan ritual.” Well, depending on how the election goes, Jeff’ll be either in prison, or some cabinet-level Minster of Culture post, can’t wait to find out which!
In an earth-shaking Newsmax exposé, Megyn Kelly revealed the Obamas secretly shadow-puppet Joe Biden via a Being John Malkovich-style portal into his rapidly decaying old man brain. Michelle handles the lion’s share of the puppetry, which frees up Barack’s time for hobbies like crack smoking and having sex with con men. Santa’s still white, too, incidentally.
Meanwhile, the world trembles before the fearsome might of Czar Vladimir’s mighty Russian empire reborn…or it will, anyway, assuming his groveling session with Kim Jong-un goes well enough to secure enough dusty, Soviet-era ammunition to go on slaughtering children for a few more months.
It’s enough to drive a man to drink. Oh hell, it looks like Chuck Todd raided my beer fridge, but anyone who feels like chipping in on the restock can do so now via PayPal or Venmo,PayPal or Venmo, if you didn’t already know. No worries either way. I’ll see you in a week, you stay safe out there till then. Oh, and I’m still trying to rebuild the ol’following on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, where I can be found @john_luzar.
Hey, Did I Miss Anything? (Ferret? FERRET!)
Well, hello there. Been a minute. Let’s see if I remember how to do this. Orange Man…good? Do I have that right? Anyway, I’ve returned from summer vacation, ready to resume the fight to take the country back from the busloads of socialist groomer antifas, and make America so goshdarn great again.
(As ever, https://showercapblog.com/hey-did-i-miss-anything/ is where you click t’get links n’ overstimulating colors)
Hmmm. Might be a bit rusty. Well, I’ll figure it out. Have you lost weight, by the way? Your ass looks great in those pants.
Hope I didn’t miss anything too important. Like maybe an unceasing cycle of increasingly inane culture war thinkpiece skirmishes over some rando’s country song? Or, I dunno, some former President and his dipshit co-conspirators getting indicted on a whole buncha felony counts?
I confess, despite years of reading and writing about these dorks, I was unprepared for the intensity of the shitfit the Children of the Candy Corn pitched at the sight of that mugshot. What a delightful meltdown. Historically, it has been necessary to procure a golden ticket to the Wonka factory to witness such wonders.
Jesse Watters dry-humped the photo in Tucker Carlson’s old chair, moaning ecstatically about how “good” and “hard” inmate number P01135809 looked, in addition to super-convincing proclamations of his own “unblemished record of heterosexuality,” before inviting RFK Jr to join him in a rousing game of “soggy mugshot.”
Dinesh D’Souza thinks it makes the Dotard “the ultimate gangsta.” Laura Loomer expressed the agreed-upon view that getting booked in what she refers to as “the blackest jail (in) the state of Georgia” magically delivers the Black vote on a silver platter, which I think demonstrates the intellectual prowess of the white nationalist movement rather elegantly.
Yeah, I bet that’s what happens, Laura. I hear Jim Clyburn’s gonna switch parties and endorse at the next Unite the Right rally.
Now Sarah Palin wants a civil war, and I think if we agree in advance to provide humanitarian aid, in the form of a few Hereford ranches’ worth of dewormer, we can leave the rest to natural selection.
Mugshot merch is all the rage, of course. Gotta have the latest t-shirt on while you’re chanting “lock her up” alongside all the other rubes, right? “Hillary for Prison” is so 2016.
Still, I grudgingly congratulate the guy for weighing in at a svelte 215 pounds at the time of his arrest. (Stormy Daniels swapped gigs with Daniel Dale to provide fact-checking on that claim. And though I’m generally a Dale fan, I suggest you pass on his end of that bargain.)
Anyway, Tangerine Idi Amin hoped to delay his many trials until such time as Elon could make good on that promise to deliver brain-swapping technology, (so THAT’S what Eric is for!) but, as in all his endeavors, from denuclearizing the Korean Peninsula to taming the wily umbrella…he failed.
And so we have a trial date. March 4th. rIGhT BeFOrE suPeR TuESDaY, so primary season in the land of bomb threats targeting libraries just got even zanier, which makes me extra grateful that so many of the Very Proudest of Boyz will be spending this election cycle (and the next one and the next one and the next one) in time out.
He’s just worried he’ll miss Chris Christie’s concession speech; and sure, “just DVR it,” you’re thinking, but imagine how difficult it must be to operate a remote control with those stunted, ineffectual phalanges. You heartless bastards.
When Team DiSappointus named their super PAC “Never Back Down,” you knew there was no fucking way the universe’s many hubris-abhorring gods were gonna let that shit slide, and sure enough, they’re already pulling door-knockers from key states. Too busy harassing nosey 15-year-olds, y’see. Roomer has it the candidate will be dropping out soon, anyway.
DeSantis worked hard to transform himself into the sort of fellow who gets booed at a vigil for victims of a hate crime, because you can’t get anywhere in Republican politics without being the sort of fellow who gets booed at a vigil for victims of a hate crime, but possessed as he is with the inescapable gawkiness of birthday clown on the sex offender registry in the uncanny valley, Ron finds himself losing ground to the more personable bigots.
Which brings us to the latest belle of the MAGA ball, who, owing to the front-runner’s cowardice, had the braying jackass lane all to himself at the first debate. Vivek Ramaswamy blathers endlessly on like a chatbot that’s been fed nothing but Breitbart op-eds, Ashley Madison profiles, and low-quality meth, so naturally, an increasing number of Republican primary voters want to invest him with the authority to launch nuclear strikes.
Ramaswamy spouts so much stupid, stupid shit, even Fox has started calling him out. His foreign policy ramblings have been proclaimed “criminally stupid” by no less an authority than Marc Thiessen, who was undoubtedly thrilled to find himself on the other end of that designation for a change.
Devastatingly, in the midst of this increased scrutiny, Ramaswamy will no longer be permitted to lose himself in either the music or the moment on the campaign trail, because he doesn’t own it, Eminem does, and it seems Mr. Mathers is understandably less than eager to see his work associated with a fashy little twerp’s bid for power.
Just a heads-up: if Vivek compensates by debuting a karaoke rendition of Rich Men North of Richmond, I’m retiring. Anyway, though denounced as a false Slim Shady, he still managed to procure the coveted O.J. Simpson endorsement.
Couldn’t help but grin at the headline “Super PAC mounts major effort to carry Burgum back to the debate stage,” because that was actually the backup plan for Sisyphus, if it turned out he was somehow really into rolling boulders uphill.
Meanwhile, Kevin McCarthy’s trying to bribe the Chip Roy wing of his feral caucus with the prospect of an impeachment inquiry he lacks both the evidence and the votes for, but Chip won’t bite, saying he believes not shutting the government down will give his dog autism.
Yes, here in the most advanced nation in human history, damn near 40% of the dog-owning public thinks “vaccines could cause cognitive issues in dogs and may lead them to develop autism,” because it’s not enough anymore to simply take that suicide dive from our perch atop the food chain, we’ve got to drag everybody else down with us.
Tennessee House Republicans voted to silence the previously expelled, since reelected Rep. Justin Jones, in case anybody thought previous outbursts of racist authoritarianism were outliers brought on by spoiled fish in the Capitol cafeteria.
What else, what else….CPAC and Project Veritas are rotting to death from within, and Mike Lindell had his line of credit cut off, but somehow the Consequences Fairy still has time to visit the Giuliani household damn near every day. Santa’s a cuuuuuuuck.
I find myself envying future generations the experience of reading the inevitable multi-volume Rudy Giuliani biography. What a satisfying ride that will be. Book One: Rudy Fucks Around charts the rise of an authentic American monster, as he attains wealth and power, and worse, acclaim and admiration. By the time he’s Time Magazine’s Person of the Year and presidential front-runner, the reader will be grinding their teeth at all the unchecked fuckery.
Then along comes Book Two: Rudy Finds Out, which picks up at Four Seasons Total Landscaping, and delivers 500-or-so pages of sweet, slapstick comeuppance. “But Grandpa, there’s no way the Borat thing really happened, right?” and I’ll just smirk a little smirk and unwrap another Werther’s Original.
Anyhow, Rudy’s been found liable for defaming a pair of Georgia election workers, and word is Jack Smith may charge him with operating an autogolpe with a blood alcohol concentration over the legal limit, oh, and also he was possibly compromised by Russian intelligence, according to an FBI whistleblower.
I do enjoy watching traitors squirm as the law closes in. Been a good week for that. Eastman, Meadows, Navarro…keep ‘em comin’, says I.
Well, I made myself write out “I will take the high road regarding Mitch McConnell’s health struggles” on the blackboard 5,952 times, but what ultimately enabled me to persevere was my long-standing determination to resemble the ghouls who hang out with Laura Ingraham as little as possible.
Hey, filthy communists! If you want Ted Cruz’s Real Murican beers, which are definitely not Bud Lights, COME (to Cancún) AND TAKE ‘EM! They are manly, explicitly anti-woke beers, and he will be drinking WAY MORE of them than two a week, no matter what Fauci mandates! TED WILL NOT COMPLY*!
I see Clarence Thomas finally fessed up to being Hitler-collecting American oligarch Harlan Crow’s sugar baby, allowing him to return, with a clear conscience, to the important work of imposing Harlan’s policy preferences on an unwilling public.
If anybody needs me, I’ll be camped out in front of whatever venue winds up hosting the first debate of the Arizona Republican Senate primary. Blake Masters vs. Kari Lake? Dear lord. What’re they gonna argue about, the date JFK Jr. finally comes back?
Well, missed a few stories, might take me a couple weeks to get back into the swing of things, but it’s a start. Cap’s back, bay-bee!
Hey, I’m running behind, so I’m not going to be as eloquent as I’d like, but I do want to thank everyone who reached out with a message of support after the ol’ pre-hiatus breakdown. I read every word, two or three times over, and I can’t express how much they meant, at a time when I really fuckin’ needed the encouragement. And the beer, of course.
The time away was, as I’d hoped, rejuvenating, and I suppose I’m as close to working my shit out as any of us ever are, so let’s get back to work. Ascendant American fascism isn’t gonna shovel itself onto the ash heap of history, y’know…
Oh, and I’m making a half-assed attempt to rebuild the following on the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter, ahead of some comic book activity. @john_luzar if you’re interested.
*Unless you insult his wife and father first.
Friends, It's Time For a Break (Ferret)
Well, Walt Nauta and his boss got indicted, so I guess there’s a civil war now? Being American is so fucking embarrassing sometimes.
(U know u want the links version: https://showercapblog.com/friends-its-time-for-a-break/)
Because wide swaths of the wealthiest, most advanced nation in human history have been overrun by aggressively overcommitted LARPers who refuse to go home and shower, life in these United States remains dangerous in all sorts of dumb, irritating ways.
It’s hard to watch a cut-rate carny like Kari Lake do her carny damndest to incite mob violence without resenting the sheer mediocrity of this fucking movement, isn’t it?
GO HOME AND SHOWER, YOU DORKS. You’ve been sweating farm-grade ivermectin into your cosplay headdresses for seven years now, and you smell weird. I get that you’re upset about the indictments, but it’s not my fault the nincompoop you chose to worship turned out to be such an inept criminal. The warning signs were always there, y’know.
Off-Brand Orbán kicked off his defense as any innocent man would: by feeding the prosecutor’s wife’s name to his loyal murder mob. Made sure to take care of that before tending to insignificant details like replacing the lawyers who quit upon discovering he’d lied to them about the whole “stealing classified intelligence” thing.
See, the lawyers weren’t telling him what he wanted to hear, (in this case, “well of course secret war plans are your personal property!”) so he went in search of something vaguely lawyer-shaped that would, and he found Tom Fitton. Tom has a B.A. in English and some zany misapprehensions about the Presidential Records Act, so I bet he’ll fit right in at Sidney Powell’s weekly poker game.
Anyway, the Dotard celebrated this latest round of felony charges by skipping out on the check after tricking some of his most faithful followers into thinking he’d pay for their lunch. Hey, if you’re still falling for this crap at this late date, you don’t deserve lunch.
Of course, Joe Biden’s done tons of stuff that’s way worse than hiding stolen defense secrets in the bathroom where Eric touches himself to anime porn. And while Chuck Grassley and James Comer can’t technically back up their wild allegations with anything you’d call “evidence” per se, they’ll be launching impeachment proceedings just as soon as they hear back from this one guy who heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who read it on a bathroom stall door in the Pizzagate restaurant basement.
Joe’s perpetratin’ all sorts of tyrannies, actually, including, as Ted Cruz notes, “murdering children dressed as the devil under a full moon while singing Pat Benatar.” Noot Gingrich blew the whistle on the Biden Administration plot to “force every American to drink Bud light and shop at Target,” while Ben Shapiro obtained a leaked copy of draft legislation that would replace grade school math and reading with “Bert and Ernie in assless chaps in the Sesame Street pride parade."
Chaps are inherently assless, Ben. It’s like saying ATM machine.
DeSantistan Attorney General Ashley Moody says, "I believe at this point the Biden administration is coordinating with the cartels,” no doubt to clandestinely smuggle the missing ass portion of the chaps for some nefarious, grooming-related activity.
Ronward himself vowed to rename some military bases after dead losers, looking to pander to the MAGA base, which is comprised entirely of future dead losers.
Asa Hutchinson asked the RNC to kindly add a Does Not Apply to Convicted Felons, Obviously addendum to the loyalty pledge you have to sign to get on the primary debate stage, and the RNC said, “lol what part of ‘suicide pact’ is unclear to you, bro?”
The Republican Party appreciates your concern, Asa, but they’re not quite done debasing themselves on behalf of this particular game show host. From Jim Jordan to Lil’ Marco to Lindsey Graham to…to…
…and it was here, my friends, as I was trying to craft a gag that would pair with a link to Tom Nichols’ latest evisceration of J.D. Vance, that I got hit with what I’m fairly certain was a real motherfucker of an anxiety attack.
Had ‘em before, but never the feels-like-a-heart-attack variety, so I freaked the fuck out and went to the hospital, hence the lack of a Friday nite post. Womp womp. They assured me nothing’s seriously wrong, and we’re doing some more tests next week.
Anyway, in the waiting room, I’m scrolling through Twitter, and I see Jesse Watters is trending, for, it turns out, a casually dehumanizing diatribe targeting the homeless, and it occurs to me that maybe pouring evil into my skull 24/7 isn’t the healthiest choice.
Folks, I need a break. I’ve been feeling burned out for some time now, but I don’t think I’ve been honest with myself about the toll seven years of this shit has taken on me. I need to unplug for a bit. Smell some flowers. Spend a few summer evenings in my favorite Chicago beer gardens, talking about anything but the latest turd to fall from Marjorie Taylor Greene’s mouth.
How long a break? I dunno. Off the top off my head, Labor Day seems like a good target. Gonna percolate on it for a spell. I will let you know.
I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate the hell out of everyone who’s supported this blog over the years. You changed my life. Saved it, probably. I stumbled into this thing backwards, just as I was coming to grips with the fact that my theatre degree was not, as I initially believed, a one-way ticket to fame and fortune.
Anyway, I’m grateful. Thank you. I will back, recharged and rejuvenated. Until then, as ever, you stay safe out there, my friends.
PS - In the interest of completeness, here’re some links to stories I wasn’t able to write jokes for, thanks to my stupid brain chemistry:
Career women in right-wing media tell young girls to give up their dreams at Young Women's Leadership Summit
E. Jean Carroll can pursue $10 million lawsuit against Trump, judge says
Why a South Carolina high school decided to censor Ta-Nehisi Coates
Incidentally, if your kink happens to be Berlusconi obits that double as think pieces about the roots of Trumpism, I imagine every wall in your house is sticky right now.
Mummy, the Indictment Fairy Came BACK! (Ferret)
Boy, nothing enrages the shittiest people alive quite like Donald Trump getting indicted. HEY, YOU CAN’T ARREST THAT GAME SHOW HOST, I WAS WORSHIPPING THAT GUY! They want to insurrect again so badly, only they’re afraid they’d fuck it up like the last one. And they would, of course. They’re idiots.
(Always makes more sense with links: https://showercapblog.com/mummy-the-indictment-fairy-came-back/)
Lookit Mark Levin. Like a cyst about to burst. Because Donald Trump wasn’t allowed to steal national defense secrets. I think Clay Higgins needs a wellness check, by the way. I believe I saw Andy Biggs digging a trench.
Yes, despite the best efforts of the pool boy, Donnie One-Term made history as the first former President to face federal charges, because he stole a bunch of classified shit and refused to give it back, which is against the law for all sorts of good reasons.
37 counts in all. Violations of the Espionage Act. Conspiracy to obstruct justice. 31 counts of willful retention of national defense information. These are not small crimes.
Hey, I don’t know who needs to hear this, but stealing is still illegal. You know how you’re not allowed to take gum from the grocery store? It might be helpful to think of nuclear secrets as really special, important gum.
They obtained a warrant, and raided his house, where they found a bunch of stolen documents. They obtained his former lawyer’s notes through the crime-fraud exception to attorney-client privilege. They’ve got testimony from everybody from Meadows to the Mar-a-Lago Secret Service detail.
The closest thing he had to a defense was pretending to believe he had the power to declassify stuff with his mind, (well, he did pass that one cognitive test) but it turns out there’s even a recording of the doofus trying to impress people with his rad classified document collection.
All I’m saying is, for a deep state hoax perpetrated to distract the public from Hunter Biden’s plot to fill all the furry kid litter boxes with rainbow fentanyl, they certainly did their homework.
Walt Nauta, the Dotard’s adorable teen sidekick, got indicted, too, for conspiracy to obstruct justice. Which, yeah, is about what you’d think would happen when you conceal subpoenaed documents from the government and lie about it.
Oh, and couple more lawyers quit. Which opens up some intriguing possibilities. MAH GOD, THAT’S RUDY GIULIANI’S MUSIC!
Now, if I were looking to pry my political party from the suicidal clutches of a loser death cult, this would seem like a golden opportunity to finally stand tall, and proclaim, in clear, ringing tones, “Perhaps the fellow who commits crimes all the time shouldn’t be in charge,” but the GOP only has the one spine to pass around, and Willard’s hogging it.
Ken Buck’s right, though, when he says all this law enforcement gives Trump “credibility” with the fash-curious Republican base. Yes, Ken, your party rewards crime and lionizes criminals. Your mom must be proud.
Can you dorks just take the fucking off-ramp? At long last?
No, somehow the consensus remains that only the mob-inciting sex criminal who stole “information regarding defense and weapons capabilities of both the US and foreign countries, US nuclear programs, potential vulnerabilities of the US and its allies to military attack” will do. As President of the United States.
And y’know what? I disagree. I’m leaning Biden. (Gonna give Cornel West a hard look, though, or maybe No Labels, because I’m a FUCKING MORON.)
Anyway, there’s still Fani Willis to hear from yet. Plus Jack Smith’s investigation into January 6th, which has progressed to the point where investigators are willing to risk physical proximity to Steve Bannon, a step few take lightly.
Kevin McCarthy not only fucked up a procedural rules vote that hasn’t been fucked up in more than twenty years, but in the process of fucking it up, managed to lose control of the House floor to eleven colicky Freedom Caucusers. Gave up, cancelled votes for the week, went home. Right now, Chip Roy is swinging from a chandelier, while Matt Gaetz rubs his butt on all the desks.
Kevin covered himself in all this glory, by the way, over a trolly messaging bill destined to be laughed out of the Senate, granting full citizenship rights to gas stoves or some shit. What this means for Marjorie Taylor Greene’s bill mandating clearly defined and labeled genitalia on all Potato Head products is anybody’s guess.
Just prior to this debacle, McCarthy’s old colleague Mick Mulvaney published a column titled “Is Kevin McCarthy just really that good at his job?” Well. Asked and answered.
An indeterminate number of stale marshmallow Peeps officially entered the Republican presidential primary this week. Pence managed to get through a town hall without anybody building a gallows, so he’s surpassing expectations. The fantasy of Chris Christie as some sort of tragically heroic suicide bomber persists. And did you know that North Dakota has its very own governor?
Elsewhere in the field, Nikki Haley promised not to execute women who have abortions. RINO.
Meanwhile, Ron DeSantis is still cruising to victory…inside Rich Lowry’s head, anyway. Ron actually had his best week in months, primarily because he failed to draw much attention to himself, beyond defending his opponent’s many crimes, and sharing “apparent AI-generated fake images of Trump and Fauci” on Twitter. Impressive man.
Oh, and he’s already pissed 16.7 million taxpayer dollars away on legal fees related to his various culture war shitfits, with no end in sight. Well, you can’t argue with the results.
Congratulations, Alabama, your congressional gerrymander was too racist for John Roberts. That’s like the Mendoza Line for institutional white supremacy, by the way. Remember when Jeff Sessions was too racist to be a judge? And then Alabama elected him to the Senate for decades? Yeah, that’s why we need a Voting Rights Act, John.
Clarence Thomas needs more time to finish his homework assignment, America. When an oligarch finances so much of your extravagant lifestyle, you can’t be expected to total up the receipts overnight, can you? Plus, a bunch of stuff is technically on loan from Harlan’s private Hitler collection.
The feminized liberal nanny state says smoke inhalation is bad for you, but thanks to my ivermectin-fortified constitution and the Manhood™️ bestowed upon me by the certificate of completion at the end of Josh Hawley’s book, I understand my God-given right to fill my lungs with ash. I march tomorrow, under General Pirro, into battle ‘gainst the invading Canadian air. Courage, mom.
Apparently, one of Jim Jordan’s FBI “whistleblowers” was suspended for leaking sensitive information to Project Veritas. I’m sure this “one-eyed mole” that’s got Jesse Watters and Anna Paulina Luna all hot n’ bothered is totally legit, though.
Tucker Carlson spared no expense for his big return to the right-wing rage-o-sphere, poaching the set designer from the fanciest community theatre in town, you know, Jody, who does all the Neil Simon shows at the high school. Definitely not Marty, that pretentious hack who butchered Fiddler at theatre in the park last summer.
Take some pride in your work, man. You’re embarrassing your partners in Russian state media.
Ah, but now Fox says Tucker breached his contract! Enough foreplay, rip each other to bits, you evil fucks. Tucker n’ Elon vs. the Murdochs, for the rotten hearts and rigorously laundered minds of the most bilkable rubes that e’er drew breath. Gonna be one uuuuuuuuuugly little fight.
I’m all for it. I am the wingnut circular firing squad’s hottest cheerleader. Bannon and MTG are feuding? What a marvelous idea. Everybody take sides and start making bomb threats.
A DNA test cleared professional wrestler “Sweet” Stan Lane of the slanderous allegation that his genetic material was responsible for Lauren Boebert’s defective brain. Lane expressed relief that his restored reputation could once again rest on all the terrible, terrible things he used to do to Ricky Morton.
I see the journalist-dismembering House of Saud bought golf. I feel like Paddy Chayefsky would have something to say about that.
Kari Lake released a “protest song” called 81 Million Votes, My Ass, easily the carniest act yet of her carnier-all-the-time decline period. I just bought a ticket to the parking lot behind CPAC 2028 so I can watch Kari bite the heads off chickens.
I bet Chris Licht winds up on the same Trivial Pursuit card as Liz Truss. I bet he cancels his Atlantic subscription, too.
Turns out George Santos’ lawyer was at the Capitol Riot, but only for networking purposes. Maybe he can represent the guy who attacked cops with bug spray.
…or the guy from my all-time favorite sketch comedy show? Goddammit, someone whose work has delighted me for years joined a terrorist mob. Boy, that is fucking disheartening.
I gotta get offline before I find out one of my beloved high school English teachers turned into a Proud Boy den mother. Fuck. I require several beers. You stay safe out there, friends. Gonna be a wild ride.
Joe's Gonna Start Complaining About the Lack of Competition (Ferret)
Say, for such a young feller, this Biden kid’s got some chops.
(You know the drill: https://showercapblog.com/joes-gonna-start-complaining-about-the-lack-of-competition/)
Yet another too-good-for-Fox-to-spin jobs report, on top of the nobody-gloat-till-the-vote-closes fleecing of poor Keville Chamberlain. Hey, House Republicans, if you’re wondering where Joe’s pants are, check a couple inches north of the boot up your ass.
It’s never fun, making concessions to the Republican Party, but the debt ceiling kerfuffle was quick and relatively painless, and anything that makes Chip Roy this mad is okay with me.
This was the best Chip Roy shitfit yet, because you got to watch him figure out, in real time, that he never actually had the power he was promised. Yeah, Chip, Biden did roll McCarthy, but McCarthy rolled YOU.
Kevin seemed quite pleased with his fistful of shiny beads, though. Anything that takes less than fifteen tries goes on the fridge at the McCarthy household. Man, the rest of the caucus did all that reading for nuthin’.
Apparently, Jack Smith has a recording of the Dotard admitting he doesn’t have the magical declassifying powers he invented for himself upon getting caught with stolen nuclear secrets. And that’s a tidy little piece of evidence, if a touch unnecessary.
“My client holds a deep, profoundly sincere belief in these imaginary powers, Your Honor.”
“Yes, well. They remain nonexistent. Got anything to say about any real laws?”
“I do not.”
“Ok, then.”
Also, the document discussed in the recording is still missing. Nothing super important, just plans for war with Iran. Maybe he’s holding onto it as part of some revenge scheme targeting Milley. Maybe he sold it to the highest bidder. Maybe he drew a hamburger on it and ate it.
Wouldja believe turmoil has arisen within the fetid tangle of bottom-feeding grifters that comprise Donnie One-Term’s “legal team?” Infighting, even. Perhaps they are not, as I once envisioned, a somber assemblage of top-tier legal minds, united by noble purpose. Perhaps they are hogs, battling for spots at the trough before the NFT money runs dry.
In honor of Pride Month, the woke mind virus paraded its freshly assimilated corporate drone: Chick-fil-A! Look, Real Americans, you’re simply not calling in enough bomb threats to Target. Major League Baseball now requires teams to hold on-field grooming festivals during the seventh inning stretch because YOU let your bomb threat game get soft! Do you sheeple even WANT a country?
If Ron DeSantis truly hopes to get elected President, at a certain point, he’s going to need to figure out how to at least approximate human behavior. I can’t be the only one who sees a self-loathing Conehead who’s had extensive cosmetic surgery.
He even bullies the press awkwardly. He’s aiming for “macho MAGA strongman,” but hitting “bratty libertarian dweeb.”
The sloppy doofus can’t even decide how to pronounce his own name. Not quite done focus testing it with Proud Boys and Three Percenters, y’see. “Which way sounds more foreign?” “Would you be more likely to kidnap a Governor Duh-Santis or a Governor DEE-Santis?”
I’d like to thank Rich Lowry, for immediately delivering on that running gag I predicted last week. Lowry is Ron’s own personal H.A. Goodman, which is suitably embarrassing, I think.
Anyway, DiSappointus is a wad of gum rapidly losing flavor, destined for the underside of the Starbucks counter of history, so forget him, forget, if you’re able, the unsettling echo of his inhuman laughter; the new n’ improved savior of traditional, apple-pie-and-warning-labels-on-rap-cds conservatism is none other than…Chris Christie!
Don’t laugh. Please clap.
“He’s a fighter! Why, Chris Christie once slew seven Marco Rubios with one blow! He’ll meet Trump down in the pig shit and he’ll wave his hands and do the Rubio trick and the high priesthood of the death cult will pass to him!”
(What actually happens is, at the first debate, Christie spends 45 minutes trying to muscle in some workshopped one-liner, at which point the reality television host backhands him with a fat joke straight off the third grade playground, and the feral audience goes apeshit, then a couple of ‘em jump Christie in the parking lot afterwards. Spoilers.)
Riding a wave a Pencementum on the news that he won’t be charged for mishandling classified documents unlike some people we could mention, Mother’s Little Man announced the announcement of his own presidential campaign, wherein he will attempt to gain the support of an electorate that once sought his public execution.
Nobody seems to’ve bothered to prepare a Mike Pence will save us! think piece for the occasion, because why would you? Somebody actually signed their name to a column titled Why I believe RFK Jr. will be the 2024 Democratic nominee, which is more favorable overage than Pence could muster.
Anyway, Nikki Haley & the However Many Dwarves spent the week trying and failing to generate attention, and I bet it would save time if I simply cut and paste this sentence into every blog between now and Iowa.
I confess, I didn’t know there were so many Texas Republicans in the deep state until they impeached Ken Paxton. Hey, if these creeps want to rip into one another over a turd like Paxton, I say proceed. Feels a little Bakhmut-y to me, but I suppose that’s not the worst thing, under the circumstances.
Actually, we may be entering a golden age of wingnut circular firing squads. Project Veritas is suing James O’Keefe, for example. May their struggle be long and financially burdensome. Why, even the white nationalist terror orgs can’t seem to get along anymore.
I see Kayleigh McEnany got flash-excommunicated this week. I imagine that is a sobering experience. One day you’re directing the hate mob, the next, you’re the target. Well, this is why we don’t join authoritarian movements, Kayleigh.
The Failing New York Times gave us a delightful peek behind the curtain at Fox News, as they lost the Dominion lawsuit. You should read it. It’s basically consequences porn, which I am addicted to. Please don’t tell Josh Hawley.
Tommy Tuberville officially descended into the Gosar Zone, where your own family feels compelled to publicly denounce your hatefulness. Lost his top military advisor, too, over the ongoing promotions tantrum. Tommy also has lots of thoughts to share about “inner city” teachers, who’re almost as bad as U.S. Senators who can’t correctly identify the three branches of government.
Speaking of the Gosar Zone, which I made up in the preceding paragraph, I see the princess finally dropped daddy’s name, ouch. Guess it’s hard to sell knockoff designer shoes when your brand evokes sexual assault, violent insurrection, and bragging about passing a cognitive test for literally years.
Elon Musk keeps finding geniusy new ways to drive Twitter’s value lower, like boosting paid users’ hate speech, and promoting Matt Walsh’s anti-trans “documentary.” It’s like watching a guy shit into an ice cream maker. An ice cream maker he paid forty-four billion dollars for.
Well, the QAnon Shaman, having paid his debt to society, has opened an online merch booth. That’s American history, unfolding before our eyes. My god, I capitalized “Shaman,” like “QAnon Shaman” is a title or something. I wonder if he takes Trump Bucks.
Russia wants to arrest Lindsey Graham, and I think that should be part of any opening offer at potential peace talks. Hell, why not kick things off with a gesture of goodwill?
Vlad’s war is still going great, though. Sure, he’s driven waves of his nation’s best and brightest away, but he’s gained Tara Reade. Somebody’s been studying The Art of the Deal.
Lordy. No wonder Dark Brandon’s running circles around ‘em.
Okay, that’s enough stupid for one week, I’m gonna go drink beer and watch John Frankenheimer movies now. You stay safe out there, folks.
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