TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalWho Put the Fun in Non-Fungible Tokens? (Ferret)
It’s been said there’s a sucker born every minute, though scientists currently estimate that number may be as high as 4.39. The question is, after three years of guzzling horse dewormer, how many are still alive to buy NFTs?
(As ever, links aplenty and colors a-shiny await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/who-put-the-fun-in-non-fungible-tokens/)
Donald Trump is like some Dickensian avatar of chiseling for chiseling’s sake. And we made him President of the United States, where one of his big accomplishments was wringing piss money out of the Secret Service. I’ve said this before, but I guarantee you the pockets of every ill-fitting suit in the guy’s closet are stuffed with tiny fistfuls of restaurant mints.
But Jesus Christ, what do you even say about a con petty enough to make Mike Flynn and Steve Bannon feel cheap? Except that it WORKED, that the almost tauntingly shitty “digital trading cards” sold out within 24 hours?
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good polling-induced Dotard tantrum as much as the next fellow, but until Ron DeSantis has a legion of fevered drones he can bleed for millions of dollars whenever the fancy strikes him, they’re not in the same league, at least as far as the GOP’s cultified politics are concerned.
Of course, Ron-Ron managed to identify the one godforsaken patch of the wingnut fever swamp from which someone could potentially out-crazy/outflank Donald Trump with the maniac MAGA base, and guess where he’s decided to set up camp? Gonna win the primary by pandering to anti-vaxxers, what a fun, healthy strategy that is.
Wouldn’t want to interrupt your very serious postmortem of what historians are already calling the Inflation Sucks But Y’All Ain’t Right in the Head midterms, I’m sure Blake Masters’ insight is both thrilling and valuable, but maybe stop trying so hard to be the party of unhinged dipshits?
How are these lessons still so fucking unlearnable? How am I still reading shit like, “Rick Scott says Herschel Walker will continue to be a leader in our party for years to come?" Why would you want that? Why would you buy another ticket for the Herschel Walker ride? What about that experience are you so eager to repeat?
You’ve got Marjorie Taylor Greene stumbling around, shrieking about butt plugs, defiantly spouting the sort of violent rhetoric that led to her censure, and you’re talking about putting her on House Oversight? To be the face of your party during all these televised hearings on Dr. Fauci and Hunter Biden’s pee-pee and furry kids using litter boxes in school?
How do y’all imagine that’s gonna work out for you? I think you’re overestimating the number of persuadable voters who spend their free time pacing the aisles of toy stores, muttering furiously about diversity trends in the American Girl doll line. Most of us don’t have the luxury of caring about such stupid, stupid shit.
But in conservative politics, the loudest asshole is King. Speaking of which…
The hardest part of writing about Elon Musk is the constant need to find fresh synonyms for “pathetic.” The man is on a cringe bender, hemorrhaging credibility and billions of dollars as he stomps his way down the well-worn path trod by every mewling MAGA mediocrity that just. won’t. shut. the. fuck. up.
There’s nothing in the world more tedious than a freshly blackpilled dude. That desperation to paper over personal failings with conspiracy theories and victimhood…nobody wants to go to that party, Elon. Nobody that doesn’t suck, anyway. “Groomer rhetoric and replacement-level shitposting, BYOB.” Ah jeez, as amusing as it’s been, watching you wiggle your ass for likes from the Q crowd, I’ve, uh, got a thing that night.
But congratulations on discovering pronoun jokes, kid. You’re right on the cutting edge. I bet you shout “Lerooooooy Jenkins” every time you have to sell another brick of Tesla stock. You’re the hippest cat in class, you only get booed when you appear in public because everybody’s jealous of how awesome you are.
I mean, who doesn’t love a really rank hypocrite? Self-Professed “Free Speech Absolutist” Deplatforms Journalists Who Cover Him, you say? Insufferable Twit Whines About Doxxing Days After Former Employee Flees Home From Twit-Sicced Mob? What a walking skidmark you are, Elon. Pay your bills, dickwad.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure smiting critics on the social media site you paid the full rube markup rate for provides a nice respite from failing in front of the whole fucking world, but it only feeds the loser doom loop you’re trapped in. Pro tip: people won’t stop laughing at you until you stop punching yourself in the groin.
I hope Mark Meadows’ phone winds up in the Smithsonian, y’know? I’m told that if you hold it in your hands, you can almost hear the institutions of democracy rotting. Personally, I think the writers are getting a little heavy-handed with the “Marshall Law” stuff and the NFTs and the vaccine quackery; like, ok you guys, they’re idiots, WE GET IT.
The Marshall Law guy is South Carolina Congressdolt Ralph Norman, who is also in the news this week as one of the five intractable turds floating in Kevin McCarthy’s breakfast cereal, (he’s only got a four-vote margin to work with, y’see) which is degoddamnlightful, if you ask me. Live by the insurrectionist weirdo, die by the insurrectionist weirdo, motherfucker.
I guess Brett Kavanaugh attended the creepiest of all possible Xmas parties, but don’t worry, he responsibly brought along his designated apologist, Susan Collins, to excuse/enable any drunken assaults that may have occurred.
Poor Kari Lake. Bet everything on the Big Lie just before the market crashed. Thought she was gonna be Vice President, now she’s just trying to elbow out a halfway decent spot for a t-shirt table on the convention circuit, something close to Diamond and Silk, you don’t want to wind up in the corner with Laura Loomer, believe me.
Oh, if anybody needs Roger Stone, (to pad out your Russian military propaganda, for example) he’s over in the corner, hallucinating about “demonic portals.” Just a heads up.
I trust you’re still enjoying the steady grind of the gears of justice in the background. The Consequences Fairy was extra busy this week, visiting Capitol rioters and Whitmer kidnap plotters and even Rudy Giuliani, and there’s still the January 6th committee’s criminal referral vote to look forward to yet.
Well, that’s about all I can take for one week. Two weeks, actually, NO BLOG NEXT WEEK, as I’ll be traveling for the holidays. You stay safe out there, and please do your damndest to squeeze a little cheer out of these demented times.
It Was a Lovely Constitution. A Shame We Had to Terminate It. (Ferret)
It is with the heaviest of hearts I come to you from Donald Trump’s surprise second term. I’d hoped we’d avoid this scenario, what with that landslide election he lost, but I foolishly forgot about the self-destruct clause the founders wove into the Constitution, triggered, as every schoolchild knows, whenever two idiot billionaires are wrong about the First Amendment at the same time.
(Yeah, yeah, links, etc. here: https://showercapblog.com/it-was-a-lovely-constitution-a-shame-we-had-to-terminate-it/)
And while I feel the leap to terminating the whole dang Constitution was a touch unwarranted here, I suppose this is just how history happens now, driven by the misconceptions of the morons with the richest daddies. Doesn’t strike me as any way to run a railroad, but at any rate, I am legally obliged to inform you the second inauguration was the single most attended event in human history, by several orders of magnitude.
It’s all so stupid and exhausting. I don’t specifically remember a plague of oddly confident dumbasses in the Old Testament story, but maybe God was just saving the good shit for a culture that needed a really special lesson.
I’m starting to understand why Republicans’re demanding so many investigations into Hunter Biden, since they seem to believe his dong is powerful enough to make millions of voters ignore a mismanaged pandemic and a crashed economy, and re-elect the blithering jackass responsible for both, even though he thinks the questions at the end of a cognitive test are “difficult.”
The must be some penis, is all I’m saying.
It would be really cool if anyone involved in inventing or disseminating this breathtakingly dumb narrative cared that they were so completely incorrect about the First Amendment, or “shadow banning,” or the mystical election-granting powers of Hunter Biden’s laptop, but I suppose that would require any number of qualities that’ve fallen out of fashion on the Right: thoughtfulness, humility, decency…I shouldn’t’ve even brought it up.
Anyway, yeah, the 45th President of the United States and frontrunner for the GOP’s 2024 presidential nomination once again used the first, flimsy excuse presented to call for the overthrow of the entire constitutional order, he does that sort of thing from time to time, especially when he’s feeling cornered…sometimes people dress up and build gallows, it’s a whole thing.
Off-Brand Orbán’s casual fascism earned mostly silence from institutional Republicans, though it did get one whole minute on Fox News, and a brief, lonely round of applause from Paul Gosar, who likes to remind us from time to time that there’s a white nationalist dentist with a not-quite-functioning brain serving in the House of Representatives.
Between this and the Ye/Fuentes dinner, Republicans have been offered a steakhouse dessert cart of off-ramps, but I guess they’re watching their weight, though they always seem to find room for one more slice of electoral defeat.
Which brings us to the Georgia Senate runoff, and the most welcome end to the freakiest goddamn election cycle of my lifetime. Oh Herschel, I think I’ll miss you most of all, though I certainly hope you come to no harm in the never-ending war between vampires and werewolves, to which I assume you now return.
The state of conservative thinking has fallen so far that they apparently need debates and postmortems to figure out what went wrong in the 2022 midterms. Yeah, it’s a mystery, fellas.
Perhaps the answers lie in the chemtrails Doug Mastriano has been studying in his newfound free time, or the halo of Charmin-soft light surrounding Kari Lake on her wingnut media tour, or the unceasing parade of weirdos meeting with the drooling fop y’all have, for reasons which have never been quite clear to me, chosen to worship.
Why, in smoky cloakrooms, deep state pubs, and Clinton Foundation organ-harvesting lounges, talk has even turned to candidate quality, a blasphemous assault on a tried-and-true system that rewards those bold enough to paint game show hosts on their lawn.
In Republicans’ defense, the object of their adulation rewards them with a reliable stream of humiliation and defeat, and I think by now, we have to assume they’re into that. The Dotard was already a first ballot Loser Hall of Famer, but I think he’s doing some of his finest work right now. Watching Donald Trump lose is like watching Jordan in the playoffs, while Picasso paints Guernica on the backboard.
How can one man lose so often and so massively without simply dissipating in the wind? Most losers would lose the unlosable midterms and call that a fine day’s work, but not our Donald. Just this week, he faced potential criminal referrals from the January 6th committee, amidst a fresh wave of subpoenas from the new special counsel, to say nothing of the classified documents that keep popping up in his possession or, oh yeah, the seventeen felony tax fraud convictions. It’s like a century of Cubs baseball every three days.
Yes, victories have been hard to come by for the GOP of late, though they did sneak a reversal of the Pentagon’s Covid vaccine mandate into the NDAA, a triumph for the forces that would see more preventable diseases spread through our military, forces that’re surprisingly well-represented on Capitol Hill.
I wouldn’t worry, though, John Bolton will save the Republican Party. He’s gonna jump into the primary y’see, and Trump doesn’t stand a chance against that Hanna-Barbera-but-vaguely-genocidal charisma.
Milo Yiannapolous was fired from Kanye West’s “presidential campaign,” apparently losing a power struggle to Nick Fuentes; fortunes shift swiftly in the grifter game of thrones.
Speaking of which, I confess I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in fantasies of Kevin McCarthy’s yearslong crawl though MAGA sewage ending in one final Coachella porta-potty rather than the speakership; it feels like asking Santa for the shiniest toy in the Marshall Fields window when you know mom and dad can’t afford it…but to sell so much of your soul, only to trip over the likes of Matt Gaetz and Andy Biggs at the finish line…oh man, I would walk out of that movie satisfied.
Not since Fox called Arizona have I seen Cult45 as incensed as that time an American citizen got released from unjust captivity in Putin’s Russia. They’re, uh, not taking the Brittney Griner news well, are they? Ye gods. An unusually ugly tantrum thrown by the ugliest tantrum-throwers in an ugly, ugly movement. Salty, no doubt, from the tears shed over the passage of the Respect for Marriage Act.
Heck, even the House sponsor of DeSantistan’s odious “Don’t Say Gay” law got indicted for wire fraud. Maybe he can share a cell with the election denier who voted illegally nine times. Of course, the real action on the anti-gay Right happens on the grassroots/terrorist level, as we saw in Columbus, and possibly Moore County, North Carolina.
I see we started exporting QAnon at some point, and all the fuckwit terrorist plotting that goes along with it. My apologies to Germany, though you have to admit it’s exciting we got in on the ground floor of the hot, new, global madness economy.
I think we’re going to be a leader in the field for the foreseeable future. That said, I’ve had my fill for the time being, so I’ll sign off here. Don’t lose too much sleep over Sinema, friends. And stay safe; it’s still pretty weird out there, and we need ya.
Kanye. Elon. Trump. Gosh, Where Did It All Go Wrong? (Ferret)
I hope that like me, you’re still enjoying the hey-that-wasn’t-so-badness of the recent midterms, though of course there’s ample fuckery to discuss tonight. On the Right, it is a time of reflection. Or it would be, if anybody’s brain still worked over there.
(Is it even comprehensible anymore without the links? https://showercapblog.com/kanye-elon-trump-gosh-where-did-it-all-go-wrong/)
They’re doing another one of those How in the Bright Twinkling Fuck Did We Blow This autopsies, but they recruited Christian nationalist venture capital ghoul Blake Masters for the “advisory council.” Good luck. Watching the chum from the red wave that wasn’t settle at the bottom of the tank, you cannot but be awed by the pure, incandescent unteachability of these people.
And certainly, the intersection of fascism and failure is not one where top drawer talent tends to congregate, but the future of the GOP looks…hoo. Bit grim.
After failing damn near every test of basic human decency for years, expectations of political courage from the Republican Party are appropriately low, but I feel like the Ye/Fuentes dinner was like the teacher taking pity on the paste-eating kid and giving him a sticker for spelling his name right.
And yet.
So, the former Kanye West’s public breakdown slash Neo-Nazi media tour swung by Mar-a-Lago for a dinner party, with prominent anti-Semite Nick Fuentes in tow. That’s an easy one, fellas. Do you realize how fucked up it is, how warped your party has become, that any of you did anything except condemn it, at the top of your lungs, at the earliest opportunity?
Especially here, in the immediate aftermath of the third consecutive election this idiot game show host’s fashy shenanigans cost you. Cognitive test-passing abilities notwithstanding, he’s not exactly a hot prospect with a bright future, y’know? Can y’all just take the goddamn off-ramp, pick up a fucking bucket, and join the rest of us in fighting the fire y’all started? Please?
No, somehow it took still more vileness from Ye, a stream of babbling bigotry that shocked even Alex Jones, to make the House GOP recant their allegiance to America’s most famous Jew-hater, so that’s another Tootsie Pop we finally got to the center of. Congratulations on barely beating out Parler, by the way.
That’s about where the Republican Party lives these days, just outside Parler, and I don’t think you should need an autopsy report from Blake Masters (though he keeps a couple under his mattress) to figure out how America got so sick of your shit.
Lookin’ at YOU, Arizona Republicans. Goddammit you guys, must we really do this? No off-ramps will be taken by the Republican Party of Arizona, no fit shall remain unpitched, but you can’t make anyone pay attention to your tired act. The brief, feeble rebellion of some rural county whose name I refuse to look up garnered less attention than a frivolous macaroni lawsuit, or Mitt Romney’s all too fleeting beard, but by all means, keep trying to make Kari Lake happen.
Hey, maybe America’s just sick of loud, crazy, hateful assholes, ever think of that?
Look at the way your shitty little movement responded to the mass shooting in Colorado Springs. Look at what Ben Shapiro said. What Matt Walsh said. What Herschel Walker said, on the campaign trail. If your stomach can take it, watch Trump attorney Jenna Ellis’ obscene take.
Loud. Crazy. Hateful. Assholes. When you put it like that, the electoral drawbacks seem clear, don’t they?
Think about that while you wheel Herschel around Georgia Weekend-at-Bernies-style, ducking new abuse allegations and hoping no reporter corners you on the divisive werewolf/vampire issue. Your moms must be so proud of you.
Ah well, I wouldn’t worry, not with Kevin McCarthy’s steady hand on the tiller. He’ll lead you through these turbulent times, he’s real good at leadin’, just give him a minute to finish capitulating to Fuentes associate Marjorie Taylor Greene; she needs her committees back, y’see, if he wants her support for Speaker, and oh yeah, also a blank check from taxpayers to “investigate” every internet hoax she falls for. (And folks, she falls for ‘em all.)
Thing’re gonna change ‘round these parts under Marshal McCarthy, you’ll see. They’re gonna READ THE CONSTITUTION OUT LOUD WHY DON’TCHA CRY ABOUT IT LIBTARD and admittedly it gets a little murky after that, but the Constitution-reading part, that’s down in INK. They’re gonna read the shit outta that Constitution. That and Marjorie Taylor Greene’s committees. Consider it a contract, America.
Maybe the future of the party is Mike Pompeo, who’s bold enough to e’er-so-lightly criticize his old boss, though never ever ever by name, like some Ministry of Magic functionary J.K. Rowling doesn’t want you to respect. When he’s not busy cowering or groveling, Mike enjoys picking fights with teachers’ unions, and deluding himself that doing so will help him get elected President.
While we’re on the subject of Republican leadership, please tell me there are debates in the RNC chair race. Scalpers could charge me whatever they wanted to watch Mike Lindell spar with Ronna Romney? I Don’t See Any Romneys over the issues of the day.
Incidentally, Madison Cawthorn, destined to be remembered as “too big a loser for the McCarthy caucus, ouch” offered some parting wisdom on the issue of masculinity, in case anybody couldn’t get into the Kyle Rittenhouse seminar.
Twitter’s still in rich-kid-smashing-his-new-toy-against-the-wall-wondering-why-it-won’t-work mode. Elon, mobilizing the full capacity of his genius intellect to combat his advertiser flight problem, restored Covid disinformation, as well as accounts suspended for hate speech and inciting violence, including, of course, the Dotard’s, and several prominent global brands were crushed to death in the ensuing stampede to line up to sponsor the entirely predictable wave of slurs that followed.
And while Wee Donnie One-Term would surely love to return to his older, much larger platform, he’s locked into his sad, shabby knockoff, which has somehow failed to achieve cultural dominance under the leadership of cow-vanquished sycophant Devin Nunes. Which is surely unwelcome news for anyone attempting to wring profits from a $44 billion investment in an online playground for blackpilled dipshits. And once again we find ourselves at the limit of the loud, crazy, hateful asshole model.
What else, what ellllllllse…I always like to drift off at night to the slow, steady pitter-patter of Donald Trump losing in court. House Ways and Means finally got ahold of those covetously guarded tax returns, part of a broader trend of cynical stall tactics finally playing out. Oh, and Aileen Cannon’s courtroom is not, after all, a one-stop shop for recently dethroned autocrats who need large, clumsy crimes retroactively legalized.
Speaking of the rule of law, look out, federal prison system, there’s a new subpar softboi gang headed your way, and I hope you’re ready for a lot of tedious arguments about whether or not there’s a constitutional right to have your birthday cake baked in the shape of Mike Pence hanging from a gibbet.
Yes, Stewart Rhodes and his doofus buddies got their cosplay revolutionary asses convicted of some big, fat federal crimes, including seditious conspiracy. Seditious conspiracy. Can’t wait to see what Texas school boards strip from the history textbooks when they get to this year, y’know?
Meanwhile, Joe Biden’s quietly doing Joe Biden stuff: winning elections, creating jobs, and delivering overdue changes to the Democratic primary calendar, all without sharing a single meal with a single Nazi. But by all means, ask Blake Masters to help you unravel the mystery before you. I hope you’re paying him.
I will be conducting my own autopsy, of the craft beer sampler in the fridge, by Sunday at the latest. You stay safe out there, friends. Oh, and the paste-eating kid was me. Obviously.
This Asshole Again (Ferret)
Dunno about you, but I’m still riding high on last week’s wave of catharsis. Making sandwiches from leftover schadenfreude. Knocking ascendant American fascism on its ass gives one a warm, healthy glow, don’t you agree?
(This can’t possibly make sense without the links, so click here: https://showercapblog.com/this-asshole-again/)
I’m sure you enjoyed the steady trickle of election news this week. It was like the closing stages of a night at one of those Brazilian steakhouses where they keep dropping by your table to tempt you with succulent meats. Oh, I couldn’t possibly have one more b-wait, Adam Laxalt lost? I’ll make room. Maybe one last serving of Slate of Trump-Endorsed Weirdos Goes Down in Flames.
That Arizona vote count was exquisitely paced, my compliments to the local deep state. First Finchem, (and if you haven’t already, treat yourself to his Twitter meltdown*) then Thiel’s pet ghoul, and finally, Kari Lake, a crushing disappointment to those who like their autocracy best when it’s lit like mid-period Joan Crawford.
There doesn’t seem to be as much stomach to keep election denialism going this time around, (because of all the losing, probably) but I’m sure Lake is willing to spend as much of Mike Lindell’s money as it takes to keep her face in front of the endlessly bilkable MAGA mob. Her first move was to fly down to Mar-a-Lago to meet with the 45th President of the United States and a pro wrestling promoter, because that’s just how shit works in this, our healthiest of all possible democracies.
Anyway, given expectations, I barely minded when they finally announced that Kevin McCarthy would, in fact, gain just enough rope in the Congress to come to hang himself, heading a tiny, tottering majority, held together with scotch tape, anal leakage, and Marjorie Taylor Greene, (but I repeat myself) assuming he isn’t accidentally killed in some Freedumb Caucus hazing ritual first.
One can’t help but draw comparisons, with one of the most significant and effective House Speakers in history passing the torch this week. Nancy Pelosi’s accomplishments are too impressive to even discuss in my crass little blog, whereas K-Dawg sold American democracy out at every opportunity for the chance to spend two years stage-managing The Hunter Biden Show. And he’s the very best they’ve got.
Honesty, watching the turdpit knife fight taking place in what’s left of the Republican Party, now that we’ve skimmed the last microscopic traces of decency off the top…it’s been a bit nauseating, but I’m generally enjoying myself. It’s not so much an intraparty civil war as the worst human beings alive clawing at one another’s eyes over the keys to a used death cult.
Decisively defeated for the second time this year, Sarah Palin says people should completely stop donating to the GOP, and I suppose I’d feel stranger about thinking, “Sarah Palin is right! Everybody should listen to Sarah Palin!” if I hadn’t spent the last couple years sharing Bill Kristol tweets.
Rick Scott is so used to failing upwards, he actually asked for a promotion after blowing $200 million as head of NRSC with nothing to show for it except a slightly smaller spotlight on Joe Manchin. Didn’t get it, oddly.
Even within a movement defined by big lies and livestock dewormer consumption, Mike Pence stands out as uniquely delusional, and so he’s shuffling around on his sad little book tour, ahead of a doomed Don’t Lynch Me, Vote For Me! presidential run, and I think we’ll all be grateful for the comic relief during the infuckingterminable campaign to come.
Because, as you know, the Once and Future Crotchtumor officially reinflicted himself upon the nation’s politics, in a rambling, unendurable, Stephen Miller-scripted diatribe, titled American Carnage II: Yes I Just Cost You the Senate But I Really Don’t Want to Go to Prison Boogaloo.
The announcement event was, as you can imagine, the bottom-feedingest shindig on the white nationalist social calendar. Like, already-forgotten Hitler youth Madison Cawthorn showed up, but Matt Gaetz sent his regrets. Matt. Gaetz. Good lord, how much loserstink do you have to emit to repel that clout-hungry pervert? Only Donald Trump knows.
But the Republican establishment is gonna stand up to him this time. For real and for serious. Not like Charlottesville or Lafayette Square or either impeachment trial or the Capitol Riot or that time he made Lindsey Graham give MBS a lap dance at Camp David.
It’ll work, too. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Why, the QAnon Shaman was so impressed with Rupert Murdoch’s “Florida Man Makes Announcement” slight in the New York Post, he immediately endorsed Larry Hogan.
Of course, the whole “moderate” Republican plan is to lob the occasional plausibly deniable half-criticism, Mike Pompeo-style, while privately praying shiny new special counsel Jack Smith incarcerates their problems away. Real profiles-in-courage shit.
That special counsel appointment was the cherry on top of a rough legal week for MAGA, between the Weisselberg testimony and the Oath Keepers trial and the former McConnell/Paul aide convicted of funneling Russian money to the Trump campaign and the federal judge blocking DeSantistan’s fashy little “Stop Woke” law and the news about Off-Brand Orbán abusing the IRS to target enemies and laundering foreign bribes through his D.C hotel and I’m setting the newspaper down before this paragraph collapses under the weight of the links.
We also learned Herschel Walker would rather be a werewolf than a vampire, and so long as he’s not a Senator, I say let him do what he wants.
Some news: taking a page from Elon Musk’s playbook, I will be demanding a loyalty pledge from all readers going forward. I’m still futzing around with the language, but I’m willing to accept your tithe in beer, I’m not a monster. Additionally, taking the immediately following page, I will now spend all available time demonstrating my personality defects to the world, at great personal cost, for reasons which I assure you make perfect sense to my therapist.
Okay, folks, I am going to go toast Nancy Pelosi until I can’t see straight. And just a heads up, NO BLOG NEXT WEEK, on account of the Thanksgiving holiday; may you navigate any interactions with Q-curious family members with minimal screaming/bloodshed. See you in December!
*Shower Cap’s Blog is not responsible for any hubris-related service interruptions on any social media platforms, and may not be held liable.
Maybe the Real Red Wave Was the Litter Boxes Our Furry Kids Pissed In Along the Way (Ferrrrrrret)
So, how fucking ready were you for this mood shift? I myself feel refreshed and renewed to a degree seldom seen outside shampoo commercials. And friends, I needed that. I needed it so hard.
(Makes loads more sense with links, promise: https://showercapblog.com/maybe-the-real-red-wave-was-the-litter-boxes-our-furry-kids-pissed-in-along-the-way/)
We last convened amidst the cacophonous obscenity of the Republican Party’s closing argument before the midterms, a hideous mishmash of transphobic hate, threats to poll workers, bolder-by-the-day anti-Semitism, and cackling celebration of an act of terrorist violence targeting a political foe, and the truth is, I’d never been more frightened in my life.
No, not even on January 6th, this felt more…premeditated? This wasn’t We Must Accept This Butthole-Mouthed Thug’s Ugliness to Get Our Tax Cuts, this was Fuck Civilization Let’s DO This Thing Somebody Give the Order C’mon C’mon C’MON ALREADY.
What I’m saying is, I found the “romping Nazis salivating over the power to come” portion of the program unenjoyable. Stressful, even. Watching the little bastards stumble furiously about, running face-first into walls and flinging accusations at each other has been goddamn delightful, however.
Because the “red wave” turned out to be more of a hey-you-should-have-a-doctor-look-at-that bloody piss trickle on America’s shoes; a significant problem, certainly, and a revolting one, but maybe, just maybe…manageable.
The fight is nowhere close to over, and lord knows this wad of weirdos won more power than any truly healthy democracy would allow, but the coalition of the decent showed up, folks. America smacked the bully right in the mouth, mid-hammer joke, and it sure is satisfying, watching him scamper away crying.
When you work so closely with Donald J. Trump, (the “J” stands for “managed to fail at the casino business”) you come to expect a certain amount of mortifying failure, but you’d have to be the Greek god of stepping on your own dick to blow a midterm election in the middle of inflation like this. Fortunately for the future of freedom, we’re talking about a lifelong loser so starved for Ws, he’s spent years bragging about passing a cognitive test.
Yeah, the GOP let it all ride on the idiot game show host, and now they’re busted and trying to talk the pawn shop down the street into taking Stephen Miller for 50 bucks and a case of Heineken. Good. Thank all the gods in all the heavens that your despicable endeavors failed so spectacularly.
We turned back something scary, folks. Or at least gave it a good, sturdy kick in the nards. Something for Republicans to think about before they pursue these mad tactics again.
Because though a distressing number of election deniers won Tuesday, the biggest, darkest play, to seize swing state election infrastructure in the name of the voices in Mike Lindell’s head, flopped. Ring the damn bells. The fewer cultists in the vote-counting room the better, as my grandpappy used to say.
On a purely personal level, I’m thrilled to finally evict so many of MAGA’s skeeviest freaks from my cranium. My god, I won’t have to write about Doug Mastriano ever again, at least not until five years from now when he gets kicked out of a Denny’s for shouting slurs at the waitstaff.
I don’t have to think about Don Bolduc anymore, though I bet I coulda gotten some mileage out of calling him Senator Kitty Litter, had it come to that. I get to forget about Tudor Dixon and J.R. Majewski’s lawn and the television quack and the skull-faced Thiel puppet and I could keep going but I don’t have to anymore so I won’t. I bet the inside of my head even smells nicer now.
Parenthetically, I’d like to congratulate Tulsi Gabbard on her exquisite timing. Enjoy your new team, kid.
Anyway, since we’re in another of those moments of temporary lucidity when Republicans notice what a massive fucking loser Donald Trump is, they’re flailing about wildly for any less suicidal alternative, so I guess we can go ahead and call it: the two-year Criscolump slap fight between the Dotard and Ron DeSantis has officially begun!
Ron-Ron did win big on Tuesday, having catered to the Florida electorate’s lunatic desire to be lied into early graves, so he’s the savior du jour for the go-along gang, with delusionally messianic campaign ads to match.
Looks like Rupert Murdoch is fully aboard the DeSantis train, (no vaccination required, so ya takes yer chances), and even Mikes Pompeo and Pence have the knives out, and I bet the MAGA mob is totally willing to abandon their Turd God at establishment Republicans’ urging this time, that’s a really good plan. He can go by “Ron!”
Heard it all before. And sure, “DeSanctimonious” is weak as fuck; may this moment of smug theatre criticism warm you next time you find yourself sucking cheeseburger crumbs out of the carpet at Mar-A-Lago. “Lyin’ Ted” wasn’t exactly Shakespeare, but it turned a man with one of the most impressive resumés in America into a quivering mound of bologna jello.
It ain’t up to you. It’s up to the mob. You may’ve noticed there aren’t a lot of stories about mobs that spontaneously set down their torches and pitchforks and start listening to old men in suits.
Heck, Tom Cotton’s already abandoned the Unsettlingly Ambitious White Creep lane to Rick Scott and Josh Hawley, purely out of fear of one of those nicknames. A whole party of trembling sycophants, living in mortal terror of a doddering manchild’s playground taunts. Odd it hasn’t worked out.
And since Off-Brand Orbán cleverly backed himself into announcing his third campaign from atop the still-smoking wreckage of his latest debacle, we’ll be kicking off the circular firing squad right away. Wee, inadequate, baby hands notwithstanding, the old prick is pulling no punches; he even figured out a way to lob a racist insult at People Magazine’s reigning Whitest Man Alive, Glenn Youngkin. No doubt the GOP would love it if he’d just slink silently away, but hey, if you haven’t internalized the goddamn snake story by now, I can’t help you.
Anyway, there’s more than enough loserstink to go ‘round, as members of Donnie One-Term’s legal team learned this week, when they were sanctioned for one of their frivolous lawsuits. Can’t imagine that’s the last time we’ll encounter that headline.
I know you’re probably worn out from laughing at Donald Trump, but I need you to dig down deep, and find that second wind, because we have to laugh at Kevin McCarthy now. It’s always tricky business, getting Mephistopheles to cough up those wages, innit, Kev? Well, I suppose you weren’t really doing anything with that soul anyway.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be fun. You were gonna hand Ukraine to Uncle Vlad and kick Dems off their committees and map every mole on Hunter Biden’s ass and crash the whole dang global economy, but now you’re looking at a razor-thin majority at best, and Marjorie Taylor Greene says if you don’t get her one of them Jewish space lasers for her office, she’ll sic the Proud Boys on you, assuming the feral assclowns of the Freedom Caucus don’t get you first. The stakes in authoritarian musical chairs are no joke, lil’ man. You’re the one who insisted on playing.
Oh, and save some listless snickering for Rick Scott, who reportedly shelved what would’ve been an absolutely adorable challenge to Mitch McConnell’s leadership once the full scope of the party faceplant became clear. My condolences to the brownshirt men’s choir that spent six weeks rehearsing “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” for Ricky’s launch announcement.
Still, there does seem to be a bit of a movement afoot to dethrone Yertle for Trump’s failings, to which I say…do y’all need any help? Any at all? I’ve got my own luchador mask.
While largely delightful, the news wasn’t all good, of course; far from it. And there’ll be plenty of time for that, I’m sure Kari Lake in particular has some well-rehearsed bullshit planned for the days to come, but for just this one week, I think we’re allowed to strut a bit. We deserve it.
Because the good news keeps rollin’ on in. Looka here, Alex Jones owes another half billion to the people he terrorized, and I had to stop watching clips of Steve Bannon melting down because the neighbors complained about the giggling.
Meanwhile, the mighty imperial legions of Czar Vladimir the Terrible (At His Job) are doing what they do better than anyone in the world: shambolically retreating. In the background, Elon Musk continues throwing the sort of tantrum one throws when one realizes one spent forty-four billion dollars to inconvenience Kathy Griffin. What a strange coincidence that so many of the modern Right’s icons of masculinity turned out to be blithering nincompoops, hellbent on self-destruction.
Yes, a rough week for fuckheads, asshats, and crotchtumors of all stripes. And I will drink to that, my friends. I am going to crack another Tank 7 tallboy and roast marshmallows in the bonfire Elon’s making of his fortune; you stay safe out there, we’ve still gotta send Herschel Walker packing yet.
More Songs About Cat Litter and Violence (Ferret)
Hey folks, who wants to chuckle nervously as the clock ticks down to the batshittiest midterm election of our lifetime? Happening Here Bingo was a lot more fun back when everybody didn’t black out their card every single week.
(It always makes more sense with the links, so why not click here: https://showercapblog.com/more-songs-about-cat-litter-and-violence/)
The Republican Candidate Refuses to Agree to Accept Election Results square is free, of course. The Election Officials Getting Death Threats square is free. And so is the Terrorist Attack on a Venue That Hosted a Drag Queen Event square, and I guess nobody gets too excited anymore when the caller shouts, “Democratic Candidate Assaulted Outside His Own Home.”
And that’s just the background noise. A single paragraph’s unwieldy bingo metaphor. We’re in the last days of an election cycle, parties and candidates are making their final pitches, and the MAGA GOP’s closing argument is pretty goddamn gross, friends: authoritarianism, anti-Semitism, and big, big lies.
Lies about everything. Lies about basically inconsequential shit, and lies about the most important shit in the world. Lies designed to drive people violently insane, and whenever somebody snaps, and, say, assaults the Speaker of the House’s husband with a hammer, lies about the very victims of their massive, sustained campaign of lies, because we’ve arrived at the Wallowing Gleefully in Our Obscenity stage of this thing.
Healthy stuff, in other words.
Well, the Elon Musk era of Twitter launched on the entirely predictable wave of hate speech, followed by the entirely predictable advertiser and user exodus, followed by the entirely predictable manchild meltdown. From the bottom of the $44 billion hole he dug, Musk attempted to cast the avoidable results of his own pudding-headed decision-making as an assault on fundamental human rights, as has become standard operating procedure for narcissistic billionaire fuckwits the world over.
Elon. Buddy. You built that, bro. You and you alone. As your expensive new toy erupted with slurs, what did you do? You let the world know, in no uncertain terms, that the new boss, a genius, filters information exactly as well as that one kid from high school in your Facebook feed who periodically brags that she’s about to meet JFK Jr.
Your First Amendment rights are intact, kiddo, it’s just that there’s little economic benefit in sponsoring your credulous platforming of a Weekly World News-level hoax about the Pelosi attack. Get your ad revenue out of the drooling maniacs you’re so eager to serve, Mr. Free Speech Champion; that’s how the market works.
Incidentally, I don’t know that the American Right is gonna get a clearer off-ramp than Conspiracy-Addled Asshat Attempts House Speaker’s Assassination, but since taking it would require a thimbleful of decency, they’re opting for another lurch towards fascism instead.
Yeah, that “family values” party sure does find it hilarious that one of their dutifully indoctrinated drones assaulted an 82-year-old man in his home. The gags aren’t particularly funny, but they don’t need to be, when the point is reveling in your power to inflict harm.
Charlie Kirk, chairdork of the junior brownshirt org Turning Point USA, wants somebody to pay the attacker’s bail haw haw haw you could throw him a party with a hammer-shaped cake and you could invite Kyle Rittenhouse how dare they call us deplorable truly it is we who are the Real Victims Here™️.
It is in fact profoundly unjust, as Ronna NotRomney whined, to imply Republicans had anything whatsoever to do with this completely random act of violence, just because the would-be assassin’s social media feed is indistinguishable from an RNC staffer’s, or just because of the GOP’s years of targeting Pelosi with dehumanizing, frequently violent rhetoric, oh look, here’s a Republican Congressman firing a gun next to a #FirePelosi hashtag a few days before the attack, and here’s a pro-Trump insurrectionist talking about how badly he’d like to hang Nancy Pelosi but otherwise this kind of thing hardly ever happens, though I’d consider it a personal favor if you wouldn’t check.
Don’t check anything, actually. Ever. Pay no attention to the fact that Halloween came and went without a single rainbow fentanyl tablet making its way into a single trick-or-treater’s repurposed pillowcase; just stand by, with hammers and nail guns at the ready, while we work out what you’re supposed to be afraid of next.
Maybe it’ll be JD Vance’s imaginary horde of migrants seeking taxpayer-funded “gender reassignment surgeries.” They’re coming in a caravan, I hear. They’re headed to your town on Antifa buses, each bearing as much kitty litter as they can carry, so their furry children have something to pee in.
I have grown so weary of writing about kitty litter, my friends. I shouldn’t have to write about kitty litter this much, this is not a cat blog, though I bet in the alternate reality where I started a cat blog five years ago, I’m significantly more cheerful.
No, I’m stuck with Don Bolduc, who generated multiple litter-based headlines this week, because he will not, by gawd, be made to renounce the Kids Shitting in Litter Boxes Because of Wokeness myth. Did Moses not bear tablets of stone from ‘pon the mountaintop, proclaiming, in the Lord’s own hand, that furry kids shit in litter boxes because of wokeness literally all the time, you heathen deep state commie bastards?
All kindsa wacky laws on them tablets, but of course the big one is We Get To Be In Charge Forever And Ever No Matter What. (It always is.) Not exactly compatible with democracy, and they’re growing increasingly comfortable saying so; for example, Wisconsin gubernatorial candidate Tim Michels, who promises, “Republicans will never lose another election” if he wins, which is pretty much every swing state GOP Secretary of State candidate’s explicit plan as well.
And in Texas, some Republican Party officials have taken their voter harassment campaign door-to-door, adding that essential “we know where you live” element to the climate of fear they’re so meticulously crafting.
Violence and intimidation. Focused assaults on electoral infrastructure. I mentioned the anti-Semitism, yes? It’s only when your violent anti-democracy movement is extra-super-not-even-semi-fascist that it embraces anti-Semitism in the immediate run-up to a national election, right?
With the likes of Kanye and Kyrie hogging that particular spotlight, the Mastriano campaign knew it would need to act boldly to stand out; luckily, Dougie’s wife had a demented, dominionist ace up her sleeve.
Sorry this post is so grim, chums, but this is grim shit we’re discussing. Well, let’s rattle off a few quick gags and land this fucker.
I see Herschel Walker challenged Barack Obama to a resumé competition, and I have to say, if the metrics used in the evaluation are Abortions Personally Financed, or Number of Abuse Allegations, there are definitely some merits to his boasting.
Stephen Miller added his uniquely subpar mewl to the cacophony of mediocre white guy shrieking that constitutes the Republican GOTV strategy, hoping to mobilize the crucial Creepy Middle-Aged Dudes Still Frothing Mad About Some Shit From High School corner of the MAGA coalition. Gross.
Longtime readers know I’m hardly a Donald Trump fan, but I think we should hear him out on this “impeach Mitch McConnell” thing. Stopped clocks, folks.
A labyrinthine plot, worthy of the great antagonists of detective fiction, to shield Trump family assets from New York Attorney General Letitia James’ investigation, by hiding them under sunglasses and a fake mustache, somehow came up short, a rare miss from the whackjob carousel that represents Donnie Dotard in court.
“Trump Organization II,” brought to you by the criminal mastermind behind such classics as, “No One Will Notice the Stolen Nuclear Secrets“ and, “Maybe If Somebody Lynches Mike Pence I Get To Stay President.” How he failed to denuclearize North Korea I’ll never understand.
Welcome news from Brazil, where voters rejected fascism and failure, though given other international election results, the jury is still out on the elusive Is Humanity Capable Of Learning Fucking Anything question.
Anyway, I know nobody reading this needs to me to remind them to VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS, but a man has obligations to his catchphrase. When next we meet, we’ll know a lot more about precisely how scary our neighbors are, that’ll be somethin’ to talk about. Stay safe out there ‘til then, friends.
PS - Hey Elon…I bet if you keep hitting Twitter with a wrench like that, money’ll just fall out. Someday. Cool investment, champ.
The One Where the Guy Tries to Kill Nancy Pelosi With a Hammer (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, the midterms’re just around the corner, and things’ve gone more or less apeshit. Welcome to election season in the madhouse; sure am glad everybody’s so heavily armed.
(O, the links that await ye on my blog site!: https://showercapblog.com/the-one-where-the-guy-tries-to-kill-nancy-pelosi-with-a-hammer/)
So, turns out, when you spend a couple years driving folks violently insane with persecution fantasies, your politics turn a bit screwy. In a lot of ways, it’s surprising it took us this long to arrive at the Hammer-Wielding Assassin phase of the show.
But we’re there, folks. Masked maniacs in tactical gear menacing voters in Arizona. Election policy succumbing to the demented demands of conspiracy theorists in a rural Republican community in Nevada. Election offices hemorrhaging staff under a bombardment of harassment and nuisance requests. Fast-congealing plans to use the coming results in Pennsylvania to test-drive new attacks on the election system, as MAGA gears up for the big one in 2024.
Basically, the mewling white resentment cult we call the Republican Party has declared open season on democracy, and now we get to find out how many furious weirdos answer the call this time ‘round, wheeeeee. I wonder what silly costumes they’ll wear as they attempt to murder us with whatever household tool or small appliance happens to be nearest at the moment their brain finally breaks.
God knows Paul Gosar’s ready to boogaloo. Lookit the way he lights up at the mere mention of shooting immigrants. Nothing semi- ‘bout Congressman Szell, friends. Feels like it should be a bigger story, doesn’t it?
“Oh Cap, that’s just how Republicans are nowadays, they’re angry and racist and growing more authoritarian by the dang minute and they spend their time daydreaming about violence.” I suppose you’re right; I guess I’m just attached to the old-fashioned notion that every single step these freaks and losers take towards fascism deserves to be front page news.
Like, when Kanye showed up to the picnic unexpectedly bearing a tuna casserole and Stormfront-level anti-Semitism, they slid him into the conga line without missing a beat or making a fuss. People do conga lines at picnics, right? Please don’t tell my high school English teachers about this blog.
(Watching the Pelosi story unfold while I draft this post. Hammer Dork spent his life in the wingnut disinformation bubble, you say? Hours flinging all the latest lies around Facebook, you say? Huh.)
As expected, the Pennsylvania Senate debate offered Republicans an irresistible opportunity to once again prove Adam Serwer’s famous hypothesis, and also for dog-torturing telequack Mehmet Oz to opine that abortion decisions really oughta stay between a woman, her doctor, and “local political leaders,” yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikes.
Since they’re to be deputized as Junior Theocrat Rangers in charge of every womb that wanders within 100 yards, let’s check in some of those “local political leaders,” shall we? See what they’re about?
Obviously, Herschel Walker is ready to hit the ground running here, given his extensive, hands-on experience with the abortion issue, which it feels like we’re learning more and more about every day. Anybody have the Tootsie Pop owl’s phone number? I’d like to find out how many abortions financed it takes to get to that elusive candy center where wingnut evangelicals actually hold themselves to those standards they’re always bellowing about.
Anyway, we’re gonna need some clarification on the mechanics. For example, with Marsha Blackburn cavorting with Proud Boys at an anti-trans hate rally, and Marco Rubio’s campaign hiring white supremacist canvassers, we have to ask, does this apply only to elected officials, or would the umbrella extend to any brownshirts in their entourage? Precisely how many militarized incels will be consulted in each individual birthing vessel’s reproductive health decisions?
Will the “local political leaders” all be as craven and obsequious as Blake Masters and JD Vance? And, if so, how will they balance these new slut-flogging duties with their time-intensive day job, tongue-bathing the hindquarters of a guy who’s spent years boasting about passing a cognitive test?
(What’s that? Glenn Youngkin debuted his tight five on the Pelosi attack while her husband was still hospitalized with injuries inflicted by a MAGA terrorist? On the campaign trail, no less? Gee, there’s certainly no culture-wide rot there!)
Maybe we’re just not getting local enough. Let’s check in on the gubernatorial candidates, I’m sure they will prove qualified, trustworthy supervisors to the nation’s assorted whores and jezebels.
The Mastriano campaign was unavailable for comment, as they were far too busy impugning the Jewishness of opponent Josh Shapiro, and spending Gab founder Andrew Torba’s money, but you know Dougie’s always down for a little dominionism.
But you’ll have to speak up if you want Tudor Dixon to hear you over the brain-devouring maggots. Dixon, who we must assume is, as the party’s nominee for governor of the whole state, the very best Republican in all of Michigan, apparently believes Covid-19 was part of a decades-long Democrat conspiracy to reinstate slavery, which, like so many things Republican candidates spew these days, is closer to believing the Trix Rabbit wants you to kill some recurring insurance commercial character than it is to anything real.
(Oh, and I see the Everything I Don’t Want to Believe is a False Flag contingent completed its thorough study of the Pelosi/hammer incident. Say what you will about their conclusions, they’re speedy.)
Really, the only prerequisite to obtain the uterus-policing powers of a Local Political Leader™️is blind fealty to the ever-expanding litany of Crazy Fake Shit MAGA Believes, like “medication designed to deworm livestock will cure a virus” or “Donald Trump, a 239-pound man who cares about ordinary people like me, won the 2020 presidential election.” Shit, New Hampshire Senate candidate Don Bolduc gets pissy when you understate the length of his cult membership.
If anybody’s looking to snap that last thread and go stark raving nuts tonight, may I recommend the article in the Times documenting the mad tangle of pillow money and Mike Lindell’s personal mental health issues fueling the spread of the Big Lie? Don’t read this one over any vats of experimental chemicals, folks.
Boy, if there’s one thing recent American history has taught us, it’s that there’s no practical limit to the damage one emotionally stunted rich prick can inflict with a sufficiently large platform. Good thing nobody’s selling any massive social media platforms to thin-skinned manchildren, huh?
(Hammer Dork shared Lindell’s videos on Facebook, you say? And me without my fainting couch.)
Incidentally, while I appreciate the contribution to the historical record, I fear Bob Woodward’s Trump tapes are hitting the market at a commercially suboptimal moment; I’m not sure anyone’s hoping Santa leaves Hours of Narcissistic Pandemic-Era Whining in their stocking, y’know?
I tell you what, I bet nepotism is nothing to fuck with when you’re dealing with the spawn of the very mouth of ascendant American fascism; anyway, Tucker Carlson named his kid “Buckley,” because fucking of course he did.
I see the Trump/DeSantis softboi slapfight is heating up, and golly, that’s gonna be embarrassing. Two lumps of weapons-grade mediocrity dueling for the MAGA mob’s attention and adulation. Living in history is gross, and I hate it.
With all the grim shit going down, I thought it was right kind of Ted Cruz to waddle out and step on a few rakes for our amusement. In these post-decency days, nothing warms the soul quite like watching people remind an asshole he’s an asshole.
…except maybe watching the gears of justice work their slow n’ steady will on these thugs. Another clock just ran out on Mark Meadows, I always enjoy those stories. Our old pal Jacob Wohl swung by, to plead guilty to felony fraud. Remember Jacob Wohl? Simpler times, man. Nobody was gonna build a gallows because they thought Elizabeth Warren was gettin’ a piece on the side, y’know?
Nowadays the right-wing kooks are more like Albuquerque Head, who earned every minute of his 7 1/2 year sentence at the Capitol Riot. Or, you know, the fellow who broke into Nancy Pelosi’s home with a hammer and sent her husband to the hospital.
So yeah, this was the one where the guy tries to kill Nancy Pelosi with a hammer, and I dunno about you folks, but I’ve never been so excited to VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS. Something about a tornado of malice and violence just makes me feel like standing up to be counted. You stay safe out there, so you can do the same.
Weeks Deep In a Litter Box Hoax, You're So Nuts You Got Banned From Newsmax? I'm Honestly Impressed.
Not that anybody asked, but life trapped inside the shitty Ken Kesey fanfic that is American society is, um, not awesome. I’m gonna leave such a Yelp review when we come out the other side of this madness.
(Makes more sense with the links, promise. And it’s o-so-shiny here, too: https://showercapblog.com/weeks-deep-in-a-litter-box-hoax-youre-so-nuts-you-got-banned-from-newsmax-im-honestly-impressed/)
And we are gonna come out the other side, by the way. Which I only mention because many seem to’ve wandered into one of those of patches of despair n’ defeatism Dems are so fond of wallowing in. I certainly respect such a time-honored tradition, but, y’know…finish up your smoke break, okay? There’s stuff to do.
Because admittedly, Republican batshittery has been accelerating at an absolutely ungoddamnsettling rate. They’re really fuckin’ going for it, the fashy little creeps. One poll goes their way, they get reeeeeeal cocky. Suddenly these platform-averse lightweights can’t stop bragging about their revanchist plans.
It’s not so much a coherent doctrine as a manifesto smeared on the walls in crap. They’re gonna pass a national “don’t say gay” law and hand Ukraine to Putin gift-wrapped and put Fauci on trial and kick Democrats off their committees and then they’re going to make it illegal for Ivermectin to not cure Covid and once that’s all wrapped up, America won’t have any problems at all prosperity forever CHECKMATE LIBTARDS!
Oh, and we can’t forget the debt ceiling. Either Democrats agree to draconian cuts to the safety net, or McCarthy’s gang of incontinent howler monkeys blows up the global economy. I guess we’re pretending there’s some MAGA mandate for Paul Ryan-style austerity? I wouldn’t do that, fellas. If you really wanna try replacing your base’s health insurance with the Hunter Biden’s Laptop Variety Hour, just remember: you’re also the ones that sold them the torches and pitchforks.
Anyway, you better give Marjorie Taylor Greene a really fancy uniform, Kev, with tassels and shiny buttons, oh, and POWER, too, lots of it, or you’ll be sorry. Let’s quote her directly:
“I think that to be the best speaker of the House and to please the base, he's going to give me a lot of power and a lot of leeway, and if he doesn't, they're going to be very unhappy about it."
Ah, the not-particularly-thinly-veiled threat of mob violence. Wonder where she picked up that trick? Nuthin’ “semi-“ about that, folks. That is a bona fide American fascist, and her star is on the rise.
As she ascends in Republican politics, here in the run-up to the midterms, Marj is bringing her particularly unhinged brand of anti-Semitism with her, with plenty of help from Kanye West, and, of course, the Dotard himself. You knew it would come to this, it always does, but it’s still pretty terrifying to witness.
Speaking of Kanye, there’s nothing quite like the wingnut grifter feeding frenzy that descends on a mentally ill rich dude who loses his Twitter account for hate speech. For the eminently reasonable investment of a couple of tacky t-shirts, Candace Owens bailed out her husband’s somehow-even-crappier-than-Truth-Social online bigot gathering hole…anyway, the line to pick this asshat’s pocket forms to the left.
Boy, if there’s anyone anywhere who is decisively not impressive enough to talk about himself in third person, it’s Utah Senator Mike Lee, but there’s a lot of unearned self-confidence in the Republican Party these days, I suppose.
Somehow, despite deploying sophisticated tactics like “pitching a fit at your own witness,” John Durham lost his pathetic excuse for a case, to the consternation of the seething resentment cult that expected him to have Hillary Clinton in irons by now. JFK Jr.’s not coming back either, sorry. It’s hard on their poor, little minds, because the law’s so different here in the real world than it is in the shows they watch on teevee. The…news shows.
Like, there’re people who watched or heard Joe Rogan and Tulsi Gabbard jabber about furry kid litter boxes, and walked away believing they’d gained valuable information about the world around them. I would be mad if they had kids shitting in litter boxes, too. But that’s not actually happening. So.
I’d be super mad if I thought the Democratic Party was a sinister cabal that trafficked children for satanic rituals, but believing that is like believing Duck Tales is a documentary show.
I can only imagine how furious I’d be if I believed half the shrieking horseshit clogging up Lara Logan’s brain. She got banned from Newsmax, folks. BANNED from NEWSMAX. That’s like getting kicked out of a Mike Lindell sex party for being too creepy.
Anyway, the great thing about made-up problems is they can lessen or worsen or disappear completely, depending on the needs of the moment. Should these bastards take power, they’ll run for re-election swearing they made America great again, cuz you never hear about kids shitting in litter boxes anymore.
Probably their very most favorite fake thing to believe is that there’s no conceivable way voters might reject any of the deranged nincompoops they nominate for office. Tucker Carlson is only too happy to platform Kari Lake’s insidious lie that her victory is the only possible legitimate electoral outcome. And surprise, surprise, you’re already seeing voter harassment in Arizona, by self-deputized vigilante nitwits, trained and deployed by prominent conspiracy theorists, like Cleta Mitchell, John Eastman, and Steve Bannon.
Yes, the same Steve Bannon who just received a 4-month sentence for contempt, and the same John Eastman whose emails were deemed, by a federal judge, to’ve triggered the crime fraud exception to attorney-client privilege. Criminals, is what I’m saying. Criminals are organizing their own, personal voter intimidation armies.
Gosh, Cap, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda scary.
Yeah, it does. Lotta folks on the Right are saying and doing some pretty freaky shit these days. I know it’s horror movie season, but if you really want to send a chill down your spine, check out the shit they’re test-driving over at The Federalist. And “Lauren Boebert is honored to be serving during the end times” laps Wes Craven on his best day.
They’re getting restless over there. They want to get to part where they get to hurt people. They want to start locking up the groomers and the sluts and that internet cow that made fun of Devin Nunes and the BLMers and the deep state and I hope you don’t think this stops because it doesn’t.
You see, they have no choice but to impose their values on the rest of us, for we are sinners and they are godly, anyway, another one of their candidates got arrested, for, um, well, for masturbating next to a preschool playground, but I believe we were discussing Republican moral purity, which we can all agree is beyond reproach.
Gotta appreciate Ron DeSantis’ casual corruption in using Hurricane Ian as an excuse to ease voting rules…but only in Republican areas. Another authoritarian strut down the runway, casting flirty glances at the megadonor class. Same lemon-fresh new power grab scent, with a fraction of the fuss.
I had some really witty, insightful things to say about Liz Truss, but I already can’t remember who she was. Liz Tuss, Lizzzzzzz Trussssss…nope, not ringing any bells, though I feel strangely compelled to make lettuce jokes, and I have the same headache I used to get every time I got cornered by a libertarian at a college party.
In Ukraine, Putin’s now just snatching dudes off the street and feeding them straight into the front line meatgrinder, hoping the West runs out of bullets before he runs out of dudes. Oh, and trying to outsource as much of his debacle as possible to Iran, before that regime collapses. Pretty standard superpower shit.
Yeah. It’s a lot. It’s a whole fucking lot, and I get why it’s discouraging, but if it makes you feel any better, the aforementioned real-world legal system has been tap-dancing all over these maniacs’ balls, more or less constantly. From Capitol rioters to saucy subpoena-dodgers like Lindsey Graham, the slow n’ steady law keeps catching up to these fucks.
Especially the chap on the other end of that attorney-client privilege exception. So many depositions and dismissals, people have trouble figuring out where to send the new subpoenas. I guess he stole highly classified state secrets about China and Iran. Just like he stole from the Secret Service. Or from his own foundation. He’s got a pocketful of purloined restaurant mints right now, I guarantee it. He’s a thief, that’s all, and of the pettiest type imaginable.
…and they worship him for it.
Well, that’s my spooky bedtime story, muah hah hah…hoo. Anyway, I’m hearing the siren song of the hazy IPA I picked up yesterday, so I’ll sign off here. You stay safe out there, we need ya to VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS, y’know…
And So Here We Are, Watching a Crazy Man Wave a Toy Badge Around, Calling It "Politics" (Ferret)
If you’re just tuning in, and O how I envy your blissful ignorance if you are, a substantial chunk of the American electorate has gone quite insane, and seems determined to stay that way. They simply will not be enticed from the madhouse, though it is filling with sewage and infested with angry badgers and also on fire. It’s the damndest thing.
(Makes more sense with links, promise: https://showercapblog.com/and-so-here-we-are-watching-a-crazy-man-wave-a-toy-badge-around-calling-it-politics/)
From a certain angle, the United States is a public pool, one we must all share, and I just wish dudes like Kanye West and Elon Musk would stop peeing in it. Or maybe the trouble is the people who like the pee. People who, in fact, only come to the pool at all to get pissed on by fit-pitching celebrity dipshits. Republicans, in other words.
Kanye. Elon. Trump.
That’s what the House Judiciary Committee GOP tweeted out, and since no “name a more emotionally-stunted trio of asshats” follow-up ever arrived, one can only assume their intentions were complimentary. Neither Musk’s Dunning-Kruger diplomacy dress-up, nor Ye’s anti-Semitic freakout seem to have prompted anyone involved to reevaluate this proclamation of allegiance, and all I’m saying is Republicans are bad at choosing role models, and more people should say so.
Take Mike Flynn, for example, recruiting an “army of God” from amongst Christian nationalism‘s most pliable rubes. Or Roger Stone, who certainly sounds tougher salivating to “get right to the violence” than melting down into a puddle of softboi rage when his second pardon fails to materialize.
Or that one guy. Mouth like a butthole. Never quite figured out how pants work. Used to be President, I think. Poor role models, these men.
Somehow, Off-Brand Orbán’s rallies keep getting dumber and racister, which, now that I think of it, must be what happens to any room Tommy Tuberville enters, but still.
Certainly no semi-fascists in the crowd that went apeshit over election-denying Nevada Secretary of State candidate Jim Marchant’s proposal to predetermine the results of the 2024 presidential election. Or anywhere in a party ruled by Big Lies and bigger liars.
And you know you’re in a healthy democracy when you see stories about Marjorie Taylor Greene belching up the white nationalist “Great Replacement” theory at a Trump rally alongside ones about Marjorie Taylor Greene working her way back into Kevin McCarthy’s good graces.
Boy, lately we’ve been getting a nice, leisurely tour of K-Dog’s many deficiencies, haven’t we? Kevin McCarthy is so perfectly, cartoonishly unfit for the job he seeks, and may soon attain, that he feels like a lazy writer’s device, like the antagonist in some direct-to-video Shrek sequel.
Marjorie Taylor Greene should not be a difficult ethical test to pass. She is a raging anti-Semite and a habitual inciter of violence, and dumber than a bucket of mallets to boot. Seriously, Kev, this is one of the easy ones, they’re not even asking you to identify a drawing of a horsey or anything. You are not a strong enough man to steer a fucking dinghy during a storm of this magnitude. Stand the fuck down before anybody else gets hurt, you weaselly little nothing.
They’re already emitting piercing, giddy shrieks about government shutdowns, of course. Boy, that little ritual’ll be extra fun with vindictively regressive proto-fascists at the table, won’t it? Let’s let Lauren Boebert decide whether to raise the debt ceiling or not, that’ll turn out well.
An explosive new report from the crack team over at Sean Hannity’s fading I Hate All the Same People Tucker Carlson Does Remember Me? Show revealed that President Biden…oh, I hesitate to even say it…loves his son. I apologize for exposing the reader to such disturbing words and ideas, and I humbly beg your forgiveness.
Let us cleanse our minds of the preceding unpleasantness with a far more virtuous example of fatherhood: Herschel Walker. Rick Scott and Tom Cotton lent their Lugosian charms to his meth den trash fire Senate campaign, where they were treated to a folksy little fable about a bull who could probably teach us all a lot about life, if only Herschel Walker’s brain worked well enough to tell a story.
John Durham’s latest sad, sordid attempt to wring something resembling relevance out of his caffeine-free Shasta special counsel investigation arrived at the fighting-with-your-own-witness-and-losing stage almost immediately, which was pretty darn hilarious…and then it got worse.
Tulsi Gabbard emerged to beg for attention this week, and didn’t get much. Moving on.
The persecution of Alex Jones continued, and it’s getting so you can’t even build obscene levels of personal wealth by terrorizing survivors of incomprehensible tragedies in this country anymore. It probably struck you as fairly distressing that so many prominent Republicans leapt to such a monstrous taintmaggot’s defense, but you have to remember how essential the right to rile up their feral base with malicious lies has become to their project.
Ted Cruz once again proved that all the Ivy League education in the world doesn’t mean shit once you invite the MAGA brainworms in, uncritically sharing a hoax of the approximate sophistication of Not Actually Throwing the Ball to Confuse the Dog, and maybe automatically believing anything that allows you to hate your political opponents a little more isn’t the best information-filtering strategy for these complicated times. Especially if you’re, y’know…a Senator.
Well, the January 6th commission returned from hiatus with their latest episode of American Horror Story: Recent/Current History. Sure was somethin’, that time the shittiest of all possible game show hosts broke our peaceful transfer of power streak. I liked that streak. We should start a new one.
But yeah, turns out the Turd Reich began plotting Operation: Just Lie About Losing and Hope Nobody Complains months in advance, in case anyone was wondering how the President of the United States spent his time and energy while COVID-19 tore through the world. As always, the strategy relied heavily on loudly demanding the enforcement of imaginary laws, and hey, that’s good enough for Aileen Cannon.
Seems those Secret Service communications the committee got hold of had some tales to tell, huh? Woooooooooo. Somebody oughta look under the hood over there, I’m not sure that organization is operating at maximum efficiency. Sure does chill one to the fucking core, seeing the many, many, (MANY) extremely specific warnings they chose to ignore.
It turns out when you take people who openly fantasize about political violence and feed them a steady diet of bullshit justifications for political violence, what comes out at the end is terrorism, who’d’ve guessed?
Anyway, the committee issued the Dotard a subpoena he’ll blow a few million donor dollars more defying, so now America can get back to waiting for November 8th to see if any of this, or indeed anything at all still matters, which is not as fun as it sounds. Doesn’t really sound fun, I suppose.
Low candidate quality is a knife that cuts both ways when you’re running against a cult that worships mediocrity. You’d think that after a dignity-annihilating performance like the one he gave against Tim Ryan in Ohio, JD Vance would exile himself to some far-flung island, to spend the rest of his days hiding in shame and composing hillbilly porn, but MAGA voters want a groveling sycophant for a Senator, not to make laws or fix problems, but to battle Lindsey Graham for space at the foot of the bed at Mar-a-Lago.
They want Ron Johnson, not in spite of his petty mean-spiritedness but because of it. Not in spite of his pudding-brained susceptibility to conspiracy theories, but because of it. Not in spite of his mold-ridden mind or cancer-chewed soul but…well, you get the picture.
We’ve joked before about whether the pollsters’re appropriately weighting for the sheer number of Republican voters who will be incarcerated for crimes committed in their turd messiah’s name, but between the insurrectionist militia twits and the Antifa Arsoned Me hoaxsters and the Let’s Swing By the School Board Meeting to Lob Death Threats at Trans Kidscrowd, it may be worth actually investigating.
Then of course there’s the question of how many of MAGA’s most fervent have dewormed their way to livestock heaven. God love ‘em, they’re still at it, too. That Ladapo quack they installed as Surgeon General of DeSantistan actually used some random, non-peer-reviewed “study” as justification to issue official guidance against vaccination, because that’s just the sort of thing you do when you measure success in mobile morgues.
Um, hope nobody got too attached to Liz Truss. Zounds.
Looks like somebody gave Vlad Putin the most appropriate birthday gift possible, a firm-but-gentle reminder that he has no business going around starting wars or annexing things, but was he grateful? Nooooooooooooooo.
In the latest of a series of acts of strategic petulance destined to be mocked for the remainder of human history, Pootie Tang dipped deep into his dwindling missile stash to put on a little murder show to briefly distract Russia’s bloodthirsty wingnut media from all the defeat n’ humiliation n’ whatnot, with the entirely predictable consequence of earning Zelensky another shopping spree through the ol’ NATO armory. Oh, and Ukraine intercepted more than half your barragewith their old shit, so I hope y’all enjoyed your war crimes, your opponents are more determined and better armed than ever.
Anyway, I’m confident I’ve proven my “bad at picking role models” thesis, so I’m going to proceed to the drinking portion of the evening now. You stay safe, my friends, it’s gettin’ pretty weird out there.
PS - I wasn’t really able to follow the Warnock/Walker debate tonight, but I am pleased to report my sky-high expectations were met and exceeded. Holy crap.
Some Week, Huh, Herschel? (Ferret)
Fellow frogs, I know it’s nice n’ cozy here in the boiling water, but do you ever hop out of the pot for a minute, just to take it all in? It happened gradually, day by day, but our status quo got all sorts of fucked up, didn’t it? 31 different flavors of batshit. Weren't we gonna stop this shit from becoming normalized?
(Makes more sense with links, plus it’s much shinier over on the blog site: https://showercapblog.com/some-week-huh-herschel/)
Like, Donald Trump casually lobbed a death threat at Mitch McConnell, and we couldn’t be bothered to so much as yawn. Death threat wrapped in a racist insult of his wife, in fact, and if Yertle even responded publicly, I haven’t seen it.
Ho hum. This is just life now, I guess. The 45th President of the United States and overwhelming frontrunner for the Republican Party’s presidential nomination in 2024 incites violence so frequently that it barely registers anymore. Just lumbers around his tacky-ass golf resort, stewing in resentment, occasionally recollecting the name of someone he’d like to see killed, and angrily mashing out a half-assed Will No One Rid Me Of This Troublesome Senate Minority Leader post on his failing social media site with those tiny, inadequate fingers of his. Very fun and normal.
Rick Scott, who is alive today solely because of the courage and sacrifice of the hundreds of Capitol Police officers who stood between him and the lynch mob the leader of his party unleashed last January 6th, could not bring himself to even lightly condemn this call to murder, feebly spinning it as merely a matter of an irascible old man’s penchant for teasing nicknames, which, in light of all the MAGA violence we’ve seen, and will surely continue to see in days to come, is absolutely fucking obscene.
“Hey, Senator, death threats sure are an unequivocal evil, to be condemned automatically, under all circumstances, amiright?” “Well now, slow down there, son, don’t put words in m’mouth!” Wait, what? When did the discourse take this merry turn? Did I miss a meeting?
Ted Cruz went a step further, lending the legitimacy and prestige of his office to one of Chaya Raichik’s vile “Libs of TikTok” dogpiles, you know, the ones that’ve led to all those death threats targeting children’s hospitals and doctors. Republicans’re gonna save a whole buncha money on polling and consultants once they realize MORE GAS FOR THE FIRE! MORE! is the only tactic they ever deploy anymore.
I guess I just miss the bipartisan consensus on the inherent undesirability of political violence. We should revisit that, y’know? Or we can just go on pretending that everything’s fine, because Susan Collins hasn’t made the QAnon Shaman her chief of staff…yet.
Incidentally, we see you slinking away, Ben Sasse. Hey, remember how you used to lecture the rest of us about your superior morals, and write whole books about your lofty principles, and then remember how you were tested, and how you failed, spectacularly and comprehensively, every single day of your life, for years? Hmmmmmmm? Well, I’ll remember for both of us.
In the devasting aftermath of Hurricane Ian, Ron DeSantis sprang into action like a man possessed, disrupting relief workers to stage a self-aggrandizing photo op, and railing madly against a pro-hurricane “national regime media” that apparently exists within the confines of his imagination, somewhere between the delusions of grandeur and the tentacle porn. I won’t bore you with sordid details about lives lost or property destroyed, god knows the Governor isn’t interested in any of that, but just on the level of theatre criticism, Operation: Make Ron-Ron Appear Presidential sustained heavy damage, though the Dukakis in Boots look is sure to resonate amongst the MAGA incel base.
Honestly, I can’t even keep up with all the Herschel Walker news anymore; the man is a goddamn whirlwind of hypocrisy, financing abortions and abandoning or abusing whatever kids slip through the cracks, yet still finding time for media appearances that make Tommy Tuberville look like Daniel Webster.
Now, y’all just completed the grinding, decades-long process of stealing bodily autonomy rights from tens of millions of Americans because you say this shit is murder. The murder of an innocent child, your words, not mine. Your (incessantly-bleated) belief, not mine. So Herschel Walker is a murderer now. That’s how this works. He took out a hit on his own kid. Sent a jaunty little get well card, and went about his regular, daily desecration of every other value you bloviating assclowns profess to hold. Surely he cannot be permitted to hold public office now. Surely.
The actual response from the “religious” right has been a resounding LET’S GET THIS BABY-KILLER TO THE SENATE, of course. Such naked, seething will to power is more honest than Rick Scott’s befuddled stammering, I suppose, but must it be wed to radical kakistocracy as well?
Throughout their primaries, the standard seemed to be And the Shittiest Among Ye Shall Lead, so the field we’re left with is like a police lineup from a Law & Order: SVU episode about some serial clown rapist. Republican electoral politics in 2022 is a shower drain clogged with white nationalists, insurrectionists, and valor thieves.
And I would dearly love to believe that there are conservative voters in Pennsylvania who’re down with a buffoonishly out-of-touch telequack but not a buffoonishly out-of-touch telequack who tortures and kills dogs, but I fear the terms of the partisan disagreement over what constitutes fitness for office are somewhat broader at this moment in American history.
This rampaging toddlerwad nominated 299 election deniers. Two hundred and ninety-nine. If a political party ran 299 candidates who claimed that ramming half a box of frozen pizza rolls up your ass every Tuesday at 4:45 prevented colon cancer, you’d say they’d gone bonkers, but we’re supposed to accept zealous converts to the Church of Horse Dewormer as reasonable people with valid grievances, instead of what they are, which is manic assholes looking for any excuse to throw the next first punch.
Let’s be honest about the state of the debate, folks. We’re not squabbling over tax rates or environmental regulations right now; the GOP’s lone, momentary nod to anything resembling policy was a brief, off-key, karaoke rendition of a couple of old Newt Gingrich ditties. No, it’s far freakier shit we’re considering nowadays. America’s going through one of those Rule of Law or Nah? phases, and some of the boys she’s bringing home lately have me concerned.
Stop the Steal’s Ali Alexander can barely conceal his lust for violently enforced Christian fascism, whereas Daily Wire weirdo Matt Walsh seems more interested in impregnating 16-year-old girls, but the unifying theme seems to be furious creeps pushing everyone else around, and I certainly see what the furious creeps get out of it, I’m just not sure why they expect the rest of us to acquiesce.
Like, the defense in the January 6th Oath Keepers trial that got underway this week amounts to “so, we expected to receive a magical Go Apeshit, Boys! order from President Crotchrot, and proceeded accordingly, even in the absence of such an order,” which is pure, fascist Calvinball.
But that’s the demand MAGA makes of the world: license to lash out based on whatever dipshit delusion happens to seize hold of your broken brain. “You can’t make me take a vaccine, I decide what science is!” “I took those nuclear secrets because I decided they’re mine!” “I invaded Ukraine because I decided it’s mine!” “We get to violently overturn elections that don’t go our way because pizzagate Ashli Babbitt deep state Hunter Biden’s laptop fUrRY kIDs aRe SHiTtiNg iN bOXeS!!!!”
Society cannot function this way, people. Obviously. Obviously. Maybe if kids were actually shitting in boxes, some jarring corrections would indeed be required, but kids are not shitting in boxes, no matter what the Republican candidate for Minnesota Governor, Dr. (DOCTOR!) Scott Jensen says. And the 2020 election was not stolen. And no one is going to put fentanyl in your shitty kid’s Halloween sack. And sorry, Doug Mastriano, your crusade to rid schools of the scourge of pole dancing has never, for a single passing instant, been necessary.
Your problems don’t deserve solutions, because they’re not real. We can’t spend our precious time, energy, or resources dealing with the made-up shit you maniacs fling at the walls all day. We have enough problems here in the real world, perhaps the largest of which is the embarrassing, culture-wide tantrum you little turds insist upon subjecting the rest of us to, here in the otherwise placid Denny’s of life.
Reality’s been a problem for right-wing shitbirds all over the world. Putin’s losing territory on the ground in Ukraine quicker than he can annex it on paper, and now the bloodthirsty blogger class he cultivated has turned on him, because I guess they don’t read Frankenstein in Russian, either. Still, something about watching Vlad flounder seems to trigger MAGA’s instinctive loser-worship, because they’re circling the wagons around him like he paid to abort his kid or somethin’.
President Biden announced he would pardon a bunch of low-level marijuana offenders, and Tom Cotton got so sad at all the unnecessary suffering that’ll now be avoided that he had to head over to Dr. Oz’s place to torture puppies for a couple hours.
The Deposed Dotard is still hanging onto stolen classified documents, by the way. And he’s suing CNN, which I’m sure will go exactly as well as his previous legal escapades. I would love to’ve made hilarious jokes about these developments, but I plum ran out of time this week, Herschel ran me ragged.
Good lord. By Grabthar’s Hammer, I need a fucking beer. Well, back into the pot, everybody. Stay safe out there…safe as you can, anyhow.
Profile Information
Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 07:48 PMNumber of posts: 629
