TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalXmas Week in Hell: Still Awful and Stupid, Just Colder (F/SC)
Only thing I asked Santa for this year was for Xmas to bring me one day closer to Joe n’ Kamala’s inauguration, and I got that, wrapped tastefully, with a bow I can reuse next year and everything, but it must be noted, my stocking was filled with the same smoldering pile of perverse horseshit I’ve been getting since 2016. I miss ChapStick and socks, frankly.
(Yeah, yeah, links n’ color here, by humble blog site: http://showercapblog.com/xmas-week-in-hell-still-awful-and-stupid-just-colder/)
MAGA Nation spiked their Kool-Aid with extra meth when Gameshow Göring announced his latest round of pardons, because they mistakenly believe themselves to be on the same “team” as oligarchs like Paul Manafort and Roger Stone, who in turn view them simply as livestock. Anyway, I’m not sure we’re doing populism right, but I lost the manual.
You would think, after setting the world land speed judicial ass-whoopin’ record over the last few weeks, Donnie Dotard would be sick of losing, but no, he actually vetoed the dang defense bill, because he cares more about dead racist loser traitors than all us dumb serfs stuck here in the United States of Covid.
(He was also attempting to blackmail Congress into repealing Section 230, out of the erroneous belief that doing so would make it easier for him to lie on Twitter. Turns out that classic “I love the poorly educated” line was just more narcissism after all.)
Anyhow, the House overrode his tiny, inadequate veto, the Senate can’t wait to do the same, and the Marmalade Shartcannon is whining more than ever, which is amazing, because his entire presidency has been like being trapped in a closet with every single toddler in human history plus most of the Neanderthals for good measure.
I see multiple key witnesses for Team Treasonweasel’s case that Yuh HUH There Was Voter Fraud have withered before the awesome might of Extremely Basic Journalism. Sidney Powell’s much vaunted “former intelligence contractor” turned out to be just another random gibbering idiot with a pro-Trump podcast, and then Rudy Giuliani’s viral celebrity nitwit friend was revealed to be some sort of janitorial temp. Golly, and they seemed so credible.
Now that the reliability of these witnesses has been objectively obliterated, expect the GOP to finally abandon Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s assault on American democracy, allowing us all to move forward together, one nation unified in defense of our shared val-HA HA JUST KIDDING you’re locked in a country with a brainwashed mob, tens of millions strong, ready to believe anything, however ridiculous, so long as it lets them hate the left just a little bit more than when they woke up, already delirious with rage. Christ himself could rise from the grave to debunk this shit, and they’d call him part of the deep state*.
I confess I’m in awe of Hairplug Himmler’s capacity for bitterness; somehow he isn’t so busy screeching at subordinates for insufficiently overthrowing the government on his behalf that he can’t find time to stop and smell the roses, assuming “smelling the roses” roughly translates into Slovenian as “grousing that your Xmas-despising birther bride wasn’t on the cover of Nazi Loser Housewives’ Digest" or some shit. See, when you’re really passionate about resentment, you find ways to multitask.
There was a suicide bombing on American soil on Xmas day, but since the terrorist was a white dude, President Crotchrot merely muttered, “very fine work” and went about his golf.
Of course, the biggest holiday weekend story was the Lamest of All Possible Ducks breaking out his seldom-worn President costume to play Big Tuff Negotiator Man with the coronavirus relief bill, at the last minute, threatening to blow up a hard-won bipartisan compromise, and royally fucking over millions of Americans in the process.
After months of ignoring both the stimulus negotiations and the suffering of the American people, suddenly Tangerine Idi Amin started tweeting out demands for $2,000 checks from every potty break**. Nancy Pelosi, after pinching herself several times, gleefully seized the opportunity to flip Mitch McConnell over on his back and watch him flail. Yertle wouldn’t squirm alone, of course; hopefully-soon-to-be-departing cast members Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue found themselves unexpectedly unable to join in any reindeer games, as they were too busy explaining to the Georgia runoff electorate why they opposed their Excrement Emperor’s popular proposal.
...and shit was already pretty tough out there for an insider-tradin’ wingnut plutocrat down in the Peach State, with prominent Shartworld “attorney” L. Lin Wood urging Republican voters to boycott the runoff because the nargles that live in the fillings of his teeth told him about something called the “Dominion Algorithm,” which as near as I can tell is a conspiracy by voting machine companies to give old white conservative dudes erectile dysfunction.
Anyway, this was probably the most fun round of What the Living Fuck is This Assclown Thinking to date, with the fate of millions hanging in the balance. While Strawberry Shartcake dithered, god knows how many struggling Americans lost a full week’s worth of enhanced unemployment benefits, 300 bucks, but don’t worry, nobody’s budget is strained this time of year or anything.
This was around the time when everyone realized Weehands McNodick could just pocket veto the damn bill, which would of course be the act of a deranged madman more interested in harming the nation that rejected him at the ballot box than fulfilling his constitutional duties to oh I see it now. Well, fuck.
A bipartisan group of lawmakers begged the President to, y’know, give a fuck about his suffering constituents, but had little luck, as, despite recent successes on other fronts, medical science has yet to develop a cure for sociopathy.
In the end, they called in the Shart Whisperer: Lindsey Graham, who, along with a handful of collaborators, just straight up lied to the President to get him to sign the bill. They tricked the doddering old fart into believing he could force Congress to amend the thing, simply by signing it, and attaching a lil’ note that goes, “hey you guys, get rid of the stuff I don’t like,” essentially a line-item veto.
The Presidency offers no such power, of course, and amazingly, despite having held the gig longer than nearly anyone alive, Donald Trump does not know this. And of course, the bill became law the moment he sullied it with his obscene scrawl, which he almost certainly didn’t find out until...whenever they covered it on Newsmax. Children in fairy tales are not this easy to manipulate.
Imagine what Putin’s been pulling. Seriously, just fucking IMAGINE.
Like, no wonder the skeevy freaks squatting in our Pentagon are still fucking with the Biden transition team. Whether they’re frantically harvesting every available state secret in a desperate last-minute bid to buy the pee tape off Vlad Putin, or just shredding and deleting the evidence of a four-year spree of crime and treachery, I’m sure their hands are full.
Louie Gohmert and a bunch of his dumbest, fashiest friends have asked a federal court to grant Mike Pants magical new president-selecting powers, like maybe the founding fathers built a secret backdoor into the Constitution, some kind of “JUST KIDDING ABOUT ELECTIONS, ya chumps, really a defeated Vice President can pick whoever he wants” thing. Seriously, anybody. Dane Cook. Marianne Williamson. An aardvark. Whatever Mike Pence decides. (When it turns out to be some minor celebrity known only to aficionados of scat porn, I won’t say I toldja so, BUT...)
Meanwhile, Covid-19 has now killed 1 in every 1000 Americans. Well, Covid-19 in conjunction with its willing partner, that uniquely American illness known as Trumpism. Credit where it’s due.
Well, this is the very last time the damnéd year twenty-twenty will host our little rendezvous, my friends. I’m gonna google “What IPA pairs well with salting the earth?” and perform a ritual exorcism or two...you stay safe out there.
*Lock Him Up chants and everything. I guarantee it.
** Whenever Hannity cuts to commercial
Okay, A Relief Bill, a Cyberattack, and an Ongoing Coup Attempt Walk Into a Bar... (F/SC)
With less than a month to go ‘til Old Handsome Joe’s inauguration, the Stoopid Coo is getting stoopider so quickly, I do believe we’re going to need more Os. The Coo is at least Stooopid at this point, and historians suggest we may yet attain levels approaching Stoooopid, or even Stüpid, by January.
(Links a-plenty and other goodies here: http://showercapblog.com/okay-a-relief-bill-a-cyberattack-and-an-ongoing-coup-attempt-walk-into-a-bar/)
The long and short of it is, the electorally vanquished Velveeta Vulgarian, now blasting through diapers at a heretofore unimaginable pace with the legal immunity granted by his office set to slip through those tiny, inadequate fingers forever, is currently American history’s most dangerously powerful cornered animal. It’s not awesome.
Elected Republican officials, with their instinctual gutlessness, hoped to hold the Manchurian Manchild’s hand, soothe his tyrannical tantrums, and ease him out of power. You gave him an inch AGAIN, and he took a mile AGAIN, you unteachable dumbfucks. Tell us again about all the lessons he learned from impeachment, Senator Collins.
Because while you sniveling invertebrates dithered, Hairplug Himmler seized the narrative with his heinous voter fraud lies, and in doing so, cemented his hold on the turd-gargling mob y’all call your base, which wouldn’t have happened if you’d simply acknowledged the incontrovertible results of the goddamn election a month and a half ago, but of course that would have required decency and courage, and now I’m embarrassed for even bringing it up.
While I’ve got your attention, Senators, didja like that menacing e-mail Tangerine Idi Amin sent to your caucus, by way of one Addison Mitchell McConnell Jr.? Yeah, this is your richly-deserved life now, campers. END AMERICAN DEMOCRACY FOR ME OR I MAKE GETTING REVENGE ON YOU MY FULL TIME JOB. This shit was never gonna turn out any other way, you absolute clowns.
(Regarding the threat itself...old man, nobody hates Wrinkly Gamera more than the American left, but he is the sole reason you’re still plotting in the Oval instead of begging the warden for half an hour of Twitter access right now.)
Of course, worse, and even more treacherous than those who merely facilitate this fascist farce with their pusillanimity, are the active co-conspirators. We’re playing chicken here; with reality, yes, but also with some deeply dangerous ideas about how power is to be seized and wielded in this country, and sure, more Republicans are swerving out of the way every single day, great, but the thing with Donald Trump is, there’s always somebody even crazier waiting in the wings to take the last crazy guy’s place. Always.
So now, Government Cheese Goebbels has assembled the nuttiest, shoddiest, grungiest team in the history of team-assembling montages; a poo-spattered hodgepodge of the most maliciously insane bigots and nitwits from the entire Altman-sized cast of this demented, inescapable, half-decade-long reality show.
Known traitor and felon Michael Flynn. Sidney Fucking Powell, who he actually tried to install as a special counsel. A disgraced former CEO who...Jesus, I can’t even write it, you wouldn’t believe me, see for yourself. These maniacs have been huddling in the Shart House, brainstorming innovative new uses for the U.S. Military, like seizing voting machines, or even holding the election all over again, presumably at gunpoint. These people created a scenario where Ken Cuccinelli found himself in the unlikely role of Responsible, Coup-Denying Adult in the Room, which surely surprised no one more than the Cooch himself.
Think of it as a game with nauseatingly high stakes, as these malignant crotchtumors try to figure out some way to use the terrifyingly substantial powers of the American Presidency to end the system of government outlined in the Constitution. We’re certainly lucky the players are morons, but even senior military officials are worried about what these jagoffs will try to pull.
Shit, it’s gotten too freaky for Rudy Giuliani, a man whose life has encompassed experiences ranging from treason to incest to the single most dignity-disintegrating public meltdown yet known to mankind. We are standing just outside the doors even Mike Pompeo and William Barr wouldn’t open, and what lies beyond those creeps’ ethical boundaries is not real fun to think about.
Plenty of willing accomplices on the House GOP side, however. Alabama's Mo Brooks has hatched a plot so crazy it just might work, kidding, it’s a really stupid plan with no chance of success, just like the other 906 stupid plans, but it would still be really cool if Republicans could maybe stop trying to overturn the election.
(This seditious horseshit has the support of all the usual zealots: Gym Jordan, Louie Gohmert, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Madison Cawthorn, and I actually can’t keep listing them because I’m afraid my brain will spontaneously die, contemplating the thought that these frothing imbeciles actually write our laws.)
Anyway, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. We’ve got a whole fuckin’ month of this shit left, and lemme tell you folks, if you get a push notification announcing Stephen Miller resigned in protest, you duck and cover right that fucking second.
I’m glad Donnie Two-Scoops got one last chance to publicly betray the United States on behalf of his Kremlin masters, for old time’s sake. I honestly got a little misty, watching him shamelessly block for Putin, one last time, after Russia’s massive, warlike cyberattack on (checks notes) the country he is President of.
Well, with the early vote in the Georgia Senate runoffs surging amidst rumors that conspiracy-addled Republican voters may sit this one out, believing the system to be “rigged,” (Reaping, sowing, what are they, and how do they work?) Mitch McConnell finally decided to allow Congress to pass a wee lil’ coronavirus relief bill, lest the plebs catch on that he and his plutocrat party view them as little more than mulch for their donor class’ gardens.
The sausage-making process on this one would make Upton Sinclair retch. Democrats, with their silly bleeding hearts, sought to alleviate the suffering of the millions of ordinary Americans who’ve been repeatedly taint-punted, every goddamn day for ten goddamn months, by the current administration’s disastrous pandemic mismanagement. Yertle and his team of obedient Koch Industries accountants, excuse me, “U.S. Senators” said, “I’m sure we can work something out...but it’ll cost ya.”
So yeah, we won some much-needed relief for our poor, battered country. Meanwhile, the GOP used the public’s plight as leverage to extract concessions like the “three-martini lunch“ deduction, and I don’t know about you, but right about now I could really go for a nice, long lecture on how the Democratic Party needs to embrace populism to win back the white working class.
Not since Alex Jones got his ass whooped by yogurt have we witnessed such a pleasurable legal smackdown of the mendacious right-wing media bullies who’ve inflicted so much harm on this nation. Under threat of a “red slime” lawsuit (and encountering that little term was love at first sight) from voting machine companies slandered by a desperate death cult, the likes of Fux and Newsmax are frantically backpedaling, like...something people might commonly associate with backpedaling, which I cannot for the life of me think of at this time. Like, I dunno, a duck? But it’s nervous, or...something? This joke was a mistake.
So I understand the Batshit Emperor, from his fetid throne atop an impossibly-high mound of human skulls, spends his days fantasizing about all the bright, shiny airports they’re gonna name after him. Let me spoil this one for you, you ruptured fistula: in the future, when people put your name on the side of a building, it won’t be a commemoration, it’ll be a hate crime.
Speaking of buildings, Donald Trump, and racism; this motherfucker actually issued a lame-duck executive order mandating white supremacy in the architectural design of all new federal buildings going forward. Not making that up, he actually fucking did that. Same dude who keeps threatening vetoes over keeping the names of traitors on our military bases. Something something economic anxiety.
A heavily armed mob of Oregon’s whitest and shittiest, including members of Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot’s Brownshirts-in-waiting, the Proud Boys, attempted to storm the Capitol, clashing with state police. (Wait, I’m confused, do blue lives matter, or nah?) This is sectarian terrorist violence, by the way, in case anyone was wondering what America has become.
A late flurry of pardons, likely not the last, for a couple of corrupt Congressmen, a few war criminals, and little Georgie Papaderpaderp. Cool crime ring you’ve got there, Republicans. Did you know it used to be a political party?
So yeah, that’s...what’s happening. In real life. Wheeeeee. Tune in next week to see what these losers try next. Fuck. I’m tired.
I Regret to Inform a Nation Already Drowning in Sorrow...A Democrat Has Uttered a Swear (F/SC)
This transition shit is killing me, y’all. Longtime readers know I’ve often likened life under the Turd Reich to being trapped in a dryer full of hammers and badgers. Ok, so the dryer has finally stopped now, and I love that, I do, but the badgers are still a problem, and as long as I’ve got all these hammers, I’m just gonna keep beating this metaphor to death. I’m ready to climb out of the dryer altogether, is all I’m saying.
(Color? Links? The opportunity to sign up for regular updates? All here: http://showercapblog.com/i-regret-to-inform-a-nation-already-drowning-in-sorrow-a-democrat-has-uttered-a-swear/)
Hey, what if a power-crazed Trump stooge with delusions of grandeur threw a thirsty climber party and nobody came? Personally, I have no idea, but ask Mike Pompeo, he’d know. I’m not sure who’ll ultimately come out on top in the Grifter Game of Thrones that’s coming when Cult45 decides to anoint a new high priest, but I do know Pompeo, with his irrepressible disdain for humanity and his resting thug face, doesn’t have what it takes. On the other hand, watching him figure that out the hard way is going to be mighty amusing.
It appears Uncle Vlad Putin managed to squeeze in one last massive cyberattack before control of the federal government reverts to people who actually like the United States and want to defend it. The scope of this attack is so mind-boggling and terrifying that I’m honestly having a hard time wrapping my head around it; these articles read like Jack Ryan movie plots.
Of course, the Velveeta Vulgarian isn’t doing one fucking thing about this act of war by a hostile foreign power; he hasn’t even mentioned it, no one expects him to, and boiled though we may be, my weary frog comrades, this is a normalization too far, or it ought to be, anyway. When the nation is attacked, the President should be able to pull himself away from the talking teevee box long enough for a “Hey, quit that, you!” at the very least.
But no, our guy is too busy wringing as much lame-duck spite out of his office as possible, attempting to appoint special counsels to investigate “election fraud,” and also Hunter Biden, because somehow even the last month has failed to teach the doddering old twerp that lies don’t magically transform into admissible evidence if you just tweet them enough.
“We want them infected,” reads a newly-discovered e-mail from Paul Alexander, one of the demented little Trumpkins who infiltrated and derailed the nation’s coronavirus response. Paul was upset, you see, that all those dumb cuck doctors and scientists at the Department of (checks notes) Health and Human Services were spending so much time and energy trying to save American lives when clearly the only correct course was to shovel the plebs into the furnace as quickly as possible, lest our plutocrat overlords experience the slightest turbulence in their standard of living.
Just under the wire, Rand Paul became the very first elected Republican to make an honest statement in public during the year our Lord 2020, musing, “I’m very, very concerned that if you solicit votes from typically non-voters, that you will affect and change the outcome,” (this practice is commonly known as “campaigning.”) but then Josh Hawley kicked Rand under the table to remind him to stick to incendiary innuendo, cuz we’re never gonna get more voter suppression laws if we openly confess to despising democracy.
Ron Johnson is as traitorous as he is stupid*, and thus he staged a hearing before the Senate Homeland Security Committee wherein he loudly and repeatedly betrayed the homeland. Now, Johnson is about as dumb as dudes get, (Who can forget the time Jack Lew successfully tricked RoJo into missing a crucial floor vote by alleging he had “Got (Senator Johnson’s) nose” and refusing to give it back?) but he is still a sitting U.S. Senator, spewing lunatic conspiracy theories straight out of Alex Jones’ cough syrup overdose hallucinations, and any time the GOP wants to stop driving their voters hatefully, violently insane would be fine with me.
“Oh Cap, you’re exaggerating!” some would say. “It’s not as though heavily armed maniacs are rampaging around the country, running innocent people off the road and menacing them at gunpoint over completely fabricated allegations of voter fraud OH WAIT THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT’S HAPPENING, Cap you handsome, tricksy bastard, you’ve done it again!”
Living in history is so gobsmackingly inane these days, we have to talk about electoral betting markets now. We have multiple betting market stories, in fact; the scraping sound you’re hearing is your brain trying to dig its way out of your skull.
President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster himself cites a fleeting moment on election night when online gamblers misread the results and pissed their money away accordingly as “evidence” he wuz robbed, and shit, even Sidney Powell does better work than that, kid.
Actually, these betting markets are ground zero right now for the explosive collision of two of nature’s fiercest foes: MAGA Nation and Objective Reality. We’re talking about folks who not only bet money that Trump would win, but kept on betting more and more AFTER Election Day. Like, watched Rudy shit his pants across the street from a dildo dispensary, and said to themselves, “Oh, it’s in the bag now, hoss, time to take out a second mortgage!”
And now, these deeply rational people are throwing deeply rational shitfits because the gambling sites are finally starting to pay out on Biden, after sixty kajillion humiliating legal defeats plus the formal vote of the Electoral College. They’re going to file a lawsuit n’ everything. I was skeptical once, but you truly can fool some of the people all of the time.
Serious question: with so many different grifters picking their pockets, how do the Children of the Candy Corn manage to hang onto enough money to feed and clothe themselves? Maybe y’all can reduce your Economic Anxiety™️ a little by cutting into your Blank Checks to Charlatans budget?
I swear, I barely bat an eye anymore at each new “Jared Kushner funneled the rubes’ campaign contributions straight into the family coffers” story. Fucking of course he did. A dumbfuck death cult and its money are soon parted; I think Ben Franklin said that.
Biden aide Jen O’Malley Dillon referred to Republicans as “fuckers,” which is, by any objective measure, a grossly insufficient label for the gaggle of psychotic plutocrats who got 300,000 people killed this year while simultaneously attempting to end American democracy on behalf of a serial sex offender who cages children, steals millions from the Treasury, and generally runs the federal government like Putin’s personal trained marmot.
...sorry, got distracted there, where was I? OH YES, Fuckersgate. Republicans unleashed a tide of such righteous indignation at this abominable act of profanity that you’d never know they’d spent the previous four years suckling on the buttpimples of a cheap fascist hoodlum who has literally inspired multiple acts of terrorist violence with his reckless rhetoric. And we laughed right in their faces, because enduring the sermons of the demonstrably immoral is on the list of Shit Democrats Don’t Do Anymore, right behind “taking the Rust Belt for granted.”
Mike Flynn should be in prison right now, but instead, he’s making the rounds on the emerging We’re Gonna Make You Miss Fox Before We’re Through wingnutosphere, begging his old boss to impose martial law and rerun the election until he gets the result he wants. I feel like a simple “thank for you the wildly undeserved pardon” would have been sufficient, but calling for a military coup is also a choice. Apparently.
I see the Turdmaggot Administration is already fucking up the coronavirus vaccine rollout, and I know, I know, as far as news goes, this is roughly equivalent to BREAKING: Fonzie Says Ayyyyyy. Atrocities and crimes aside, we should have impeached these goons the minute we witnessed their struggles with tasks as rudimentary as Easter Egg Roll-staging and light switch-finding; this shitshow was always going to end in mass graves.
I see whichever purge-elevated Undersecretary in Charge of Coordinating the Office Lunch Order is currently acting head of DoD decided to stop cooperating with the Biden transition team, citing the Pentagon’s existing workload, or “day job,” as an anonymous official put it, because god forbid we ask the leadership of the most powerful military force on the planet to walk and chew gum at the same time. We should probably stop sending these folks out to invade places, y’know?
I think we’re still supposed to be mad about Jill Biden’s doctorate, by the way. In fairness, it must be pretty tough to manufacture new distracting outrage content when everyone is either trapped inside their home or hooked up to a ventilator.
Ok, I’m gonna grab a beer and feed the badgers. If anybody’s looking to get me a last-minute Xmas gift, I do have a few stray thoughts on the matter...
*This implies Johnson is “as traitorous as a bag of hammers.” Or “so traitorous he couldn’t find his own dick with a map.” Perhaps even “about as loyal as a bowling ball.” I didn’t really think this bit through, is what I’m telling you.
Please! No More Winning! It's Like a Goddamn Kesha Song in Here! (F/SC)
Look, I didn’t expect things to be totally back to normal by now; that’s obviously not a reasonable ask. At the same time, I feel as though we all expected the promised reduction in the daily delirium level to have kicked in by now, instead we’re still stuck in traffic ten feet outside the Mouth of Madness, and it’s not awesome. I don’t want to be that guy, but I really have to insist on speaking to a manager.
(All them links n’ shit can be found here: http://showercapblog.com/please-no-more-winning-its-like-a-goddamn-kesha-song-in-here/)
Apologies for disrupting the ceaseless champagne hangover/hair-of-the-dog cycle we’ve been trapped in for the last month, but I regret to inform you Team Decency has once again emerged victorious in the 2020 presidential election, several different times since we last spoke, actually; most significantly when the Electoral College finally, formally did its thing. I’m sorry, we have to start the victory party all over. Yes, again! I don’t make the rules.
...Donald Trump does! Heh. Doddering old twit just keeps on filing new appeals, too. Maybe public humiliation on a global scale is like, addictive? I don’t think anyone in human history has experienced so much losing in front of so many people in such a short time; it’s a truly staggering achievement in the field of losing.
We’ve actually stumbled backwards into an entirely new form of drama here, one where the outcome is never, for a single passing moment, in doubt, but where you get to experience the catharsis part over and over again, like a monkey hooked up to a morphine drip, just pluggin’ away at that little button in your paw. Winning actually IS exhausting, who knew?
But let’s get back to the losing side of the coin, the Republican side, because shit’s getting pretty dang weird on that side. I forget sometimes, they’re really still in their infancy as a death cult, only beginning to understand the monster they’ve become. Watching it happen in real time, here in the dying days of the Turd Reich, is...well, it’s a goddamn marvel of human psychology, is it not? I never thought I would live to see such behavior in my country.
Following the collapse of Ken Paxton’s lawsuit, which wasn’t a real lawsuit at all, but rather one corrupt politician’s desperate plea for a presidential pardon wearing a shitty, store-bought lawsuit costume, Allen West, who the Texas GOP, in their wisdom, made their Chairman, called for a second secession. Over an argument so ridiculously treasonous and treasonously ridiculous that strong cases have been made to disbar the lawyers involved.
Frankly, I’m not sure we should stop ‘em. If there’s anyone out there who would truly follow a legitimate maniac like Allen West out of the United States of America to start a new life in Dumbfuckistan, that feels like an addition by subtraction scenario to me. Give ‘em some of those wide open spaces they’re so fond of on their precious election maps.
It’s certainly been amusing, watching Republican Senators try to game out precisely how many unnecessary recounts and legal humiliations will provide sufficient cover to finally issue that mewling “Alas, my Lord, Ol’ Tricksy Joe and his deep state goblins seem to have pulled this one off, I guess it’s time at last to reluctantly accept this six-week-old truth” statement.
And now Mitch McConnell, the man who single-handedly broke American politics, is reduced to begging his gibbering nitwit caucus to pretty please stop enabling the President’s fantasy/tantrum because technically it is a coup c’mon you guys you said you wouldn’t!
They’re supposed to be our leaders, but they’ve allowed themselves to be horsewhipped into submission by a reality TV show character. In case anyone was wondering how it came to this.
Yes, tales of Republicans Losing Badly are quite diverting...right up until we remember the feral rank-and-file, anyway. You’ll never guess what went down at the so-called Stop the Steal rally in Washington, D.C. over the weekend WHOOPS SPOILERS it was RIGHT WING STREET VIOLENCE, how uncharacteristic of a movement that’s been lionizing a child terrorist for weeks!
Yeah, it turns out even a successful election is not an off switch, not for the kind of virulent hatred Donald Trump has unleashed. And so we watched as a lurching hate mob kicked and stabbed its way though the streets of our nation’s capital, stealing Black Lives Matter banners directly off the walls of Black churches and setting them on fire, in case of any this has been too subtle for anyone.
Howling the American President’s name all the while. It’s the Naziest thing I’ve seen since they made me watch actual footage of Hitler in school.
Quick shoutout to all those aforementioned Republican Senators, cowering in the corners of your offices in fear of mean tweets, yes, that was DESTROY THE GOP the slavering throng was chanting; the Frankenstein lesson will be administered as many times as is necessary. Anyhoo, congratulations on allowing Donald Trump to build a literal terrorist army, answerable only to him, golly I sure hope he doesn’t decide to avail himself of that power, once he’s free of all his Washington handlers, anyway, the tax cuts and judges were worth it, surely.
...but hey, the baseball team in Cleveland is changing its name, so I guess we’ll call it a draw for now, Institutional Racism. Sigh.
In the legal(ish) trenches of the Stoopid Coo, the latest strategy appears to be dressing up like official Electoral College electors and putting on little plays where everyone pretends they’re in the Electoral College, and then pretending these plays grant them some sort of legal standing. Somehow. Do you think there will be 2020 Electoral College reenactments someday?
The weekend provided an insightful little lesson on the mechanisms of Wingnut Outrage Theatre: the Wall Street Journal dug up some crusty old chauvinist to puke out an almost satirically condescending op-ed shitting on Dr. Jill Biden, that uppity broad, for having the audacity to use the title she earned through years of hard work.
Following the entirely predictable (and deliberately provoked) avalanche of pushback, the editorial page gleefully published a non-apology so cynical they surely had it prepped in advance, bemoaning the thousand tyrannies of “cancel culture,” because the tree of conservative victimhood must be refreshed from time to time with the crocodile tears of mediocre white dudes.
Turns out every single person, real or fictitious, who ever told you life ain’t fair gets a Geppetto Checkmark, because high-ranking officials of the Die Plebs Die administration get to jump to the front of the vaccination line, even after leading a sinister disinformation campaign that’s claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, with no end in sight. I bet Westley and Buttercup don’t live happily ever after, either.
I’m not sure precisely how many times I’ve read the phrase “grim milestone” in 2020, but it’s been a whole fuckin’ bunch; just a natural side effect of the collision of gaslighting kakistocracy and a deadly pandemic, I suppose. The official death toll (still almost certainly an undercount) rolled past 300,000 and I have to tell you, friends, after this hell-sent year spent in a nation gone murderously mad, I will never again expect any human society to behave rationally.
Michigan Congresscreep Paul Mitchell No Not the Shampoo Guy would very much like to bask in your adulation, now that he’s chosen this moment in time, on the very brink of his retirement from national politics, to offer the meaningless-if-showy gesture of formally quitting the Republican Party. Paul spent the last four years rubber stamping every crime and atrocity, but on CNN the other day, he was so goshdarn brave n’ principled n’ truth-teller-y, you’d never know he declined the opportunity to vote for impeachment. Very brave fellow though.
Well, Redactor General William Barr has been sent to live out his days on a concentration camp upstate, where he’ll have plenty of space to run around. I confess I’m particularly curious about Bilious Bill’s next move; does one really get to settle into a nice, cushy think tank fellowship after one very publicly attempts to dismantle American democracy? Does the architect of the police state crackdown in Lafayette Square really get to spend the rest of his life antiquing, whimsically reminiscing about the glory days when he nearly made a dictator of a blithering manchild? Why has science failed to develop a catapult capable of reaching the sun?
Goddamn, this shit wears me out. Wonder how many times Joe n’ Kamala won the election while I was writing today? I’m gonna grab a beer and find out. As always, stay safe out there, Resisters...
For a Guy Who Hates Being Called a Loser, He Really is Losing an Awful Lot (F/SC)
I think I speak for everyone in asking, “Whose bright fucking idea was it to stretch out the transition so goddamn long?” It’s waaaaaaaay past time to start tossing all the ill-fitting suits and stale cheeseburgers out on the White House lawn. Get on with it.
(Here’s your link to the blog site with all the shiny colors and news links: http://showercapblog.com/for-a-guy-who-hates-being-called-a-loser-he-really-is-losing-an-awful-lot/)
We’re still doing the blockhead-coup-in-the-middle-of-a-pandemic-run-amuck thing, if you were curious. Yup, we’re headed into a period where the death toll is expected to exceed 9/11’s, every single day for 60 to 90 days, while the energies of the federal government focus exclusively on an insane attempt to end democracy in America using only chewing gum and imbecility.
I dunno about y’all, but going forward, I’m gonna take a hard pass on sitting through any stern moralizing about the sanctity of life from the shrieking cultists turning the handle on the meat grinder that’s chewing through three thousand American lives every 24 hours.
ANYWAY.
You’ll be delighted to learn that yes, there is indeed a plan in place to aerate, cleanse, scour, boil, exorcise, disinfect, and generally detoxify the White House before Joe n’ Kamala move in. I’m confident they’ll successfully turn that fetid plague pit into a safe and functional workplace, but I fear the current occupant’s loserstink will linger for some time.
Incestuous celebrity crackpot Rudy Giuliani is making a speedy recovery from COVID-19, thanks to access to extremely expensive, cutting edge medical treatments reserved for presidential co-conspirators. Nothing says “populism” quite like evading the consequences of your own mass-murdering disinformation spree via elites-only health care, right? Also, the ghost of Herman Cain is wondering why he didn’t merit the good shit, but of course everyone else figured that one out pretty quick, didn’t they?
Presidential Medal of Freedom Defiler Rush Limbaugh casually promoted secession on his show the other day, alongside the customary snake oils and doomsday prep kits. Let me just say that inciting a posthumous civil war is an absolute garbage way to go out, and if there’s any sort of judgment at all awaiting on the other side, hoooooooooooooooooooo you in trouble, son.
Scandal at the CDC, as Director Robert Redfield stands accused of ordering employees to delete an e-mail containing a sinister Shart House attempt to meddle in public health science, and of course the real scandal is the fucking meddling, and should all this wind up with nobody but Redfield facing legal repercussions for this administration’s mudslide of lies, I’m going to leave America a sharply-worded Yelp review, believe you me.
No sooner was Dick Hinch elected Speaker of the New Hampshire House of Representatives than he caught COVID-19, almost certainly at a largely maskless GOP event, and died. This would serve as a tidy little lesson for Republicans, were they capable of learning. I would, of course, be derelict in my duties if I allowed this paragraph to pass without engaging in a hearty, juvenile chuckle at the name “Dick Hinch.”
Call Ken Paxton the Pied Piper of Perfidious Pricks, because 126 sitting U.S. Congresstraitors, including Leader McCarthy, signed onto his clownish, pathetic, I Can Haz Pardon? attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election, presumably by presenting such a cringeworthy argument to the Supreme Court that they award Weehands McNodick a second term out of pity.
‘Course, it’s the very flimsiness of Paxton’s case that makes these collaborating bastards’ actions so unforgivable. Knowing the outcome in advance doesn’t change the fact that y’all signed your good names to a document asking the highest court in the land to steal the right of self-determination from the American people, and to do so on behalf of the undisputed shittiest President in history, right in the middle of a mass-casualty catastrophe for which he is directly responsible. It’s gotta be said: y’all weren’t raised right.
If I may be so bold as to resurrect an old catchphrase, it’s never too early to encourage everyone to VOTE IN THE GODDAMN MIDTERMS, because vesting lawmaking authority in McCarthy’s caucus of power-crazed, fascist-curious, so-much-Stockholm-Syndrome-you’ll-get-sick-of-Stockholm-Syndrome subpar white dudes seems unwise.
Apparently, God overheard somebody saying, “Well at least this shit can’t get any stupider,” and in His wisdom He did send forth the dipshit representatives of made-up states that exist only in the minds of the seditious and witless to join forces with the Stoopid Coo. Four years of kakistocracy have certainly emboldened the nation’s dumbasses.
I confess I’ve never spared a single stray thought to the politics of Morocco, outside of the odd Bogart flick, but I do know that whatever the state of their affairs, their government should not be able to manipulate the President of the United States like a crusty sock puppet, yet...here we are. Taking advantage of Fat Q*bert’s monstrous thirst for adulation earned with minimal effort, Morocco tricked the Lamest of All Possible Ducks into official American recognition of their occupation of Western Sahara in exchange for normalizing relations with Israel (with a little grift on the side, of course). The unhinged cackle you’re hearing now is me, ruminating that all this started with a ghostwritten book about dealmaking.
Despite overwhelming bipartisan support, Utah Senator Mike Lee single-handedly blocked proposed expansions to the Smithsonian honoring the history of women and Latinos in America, because he believes acknowledging any culture except his own is “divisive.” Now, this is, objectively, white, male supremacy, and there’s no arguing otherwise, even in this age of gaslighting and alternative facts, but if you point out this simple, obvious truth, oh what a patronizing lecture you receive!
Redactor General William Barr, denied the opportunity to continue his fashy makeover of the Justice Department, is consoling himself by squeezing as much state-sponsored murder as possible into the transition period. Brandon Bernard was executed Thursday, and four additional murders are scheduled for the Turd Reich’s waning days. Nobody’s any safer, or stronger, or healthier, or happier, but hey, the right-wing death cult gets a few more hits of their drug of choice.
Mitch McConnell finds the bipartisan coronavirus relief compromise insufficiently plutocrat-friendly, so no relief for you, peasants, all your suffering and death represents simply an opportunity to extract concessions from those chump politicians who actually care whether you live or die.
Hey, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we actually have a phenomenal opportunity to take this megalomaniacal monster’s power away from him, and fire two cartoonishly corrupt oligarchs in the process! Please do whatever you can to help elect Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff on January 5th! The very course of history hangs in the balance, but, y’know...no pressure.
I see Devin Nunes caught the ‘rona. This presents a golden opportunity to study whether the virus is transmissible through human/pig sexual intercourse, condolences in advance to the laboratory assistant tasked with collecting the necessary samples.
Well, just while I was wrapping up tonight, before half the House Treason Caucus could even complete their Why I’m Fascist Now tweetstorms, SCOTUS rejected the Paxton “lawsuit,” and so, at long last, all the Kraken have been slain. Obviously, everybody’s got a great deal of laughing to get to in the aftermath of all this losing, so I’ll leave y’all to it.
Seriously, I’m cackling so hard I expect the neighbors to complain. Although they put up with the show tunes in the shower, or, now that I think of it, maybe they don’t, and the prospect of a long quarantine winter of Chess and Pippin has them plotting my demise. I’m gonna have some beers and think about my choices, friends; stay safe out there.
Turns Out Things Get Kinda Zany When You're Prying Power Away From a Death Cult (F/SC)
Y’know, I really do love worrying less about what the crazy man is doing with the power of the American presidency, but watching the Republican Party congeal into its next, apparently equally grotesque form is...hoo boy. It’s somethin’. Like, “oh, we’re keeping ALL the crazy parts, huh? That’s...a choice.”
(As always, you can get all them nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/turns-out-things-get-kinda-zany-when-youre-prying-power-away-from-a-death-cult/)
I don’t get it. Why are they still so feverishly loyal to Donald Trump, who can no longer navigate even his periodic ceremonial duties without A) whinging like a kid who didn’t get the Happy Meal toy he wanted, and B) waddling around aimlessly like someone who has never once in his life experienced a human social interaction?
Remember when you thought you lived in the greatest, most advanced country in the history of the world? Well, here we are, facing the deadliest days of this pandemic to date, worse off than any nation on Earth, because a political movement built on fascist-style disinformation finally bent our culture to the point where it snapped like balsa wood.
Spreading the coronavirus has essentially become a point of cultural pride for the president’s followers, which has of course proven catastrophic, but let’s not lose sight of just how deeply insane that shit is. This movement’s gleeful complicity in its own gaslighting, even in the face of mass casualties, is, by my calculations, the single mathematically damndest thing I have ever seen.
Gameshow Göring slithered down to Georgia for one of his precious hate rallies, allegedly in support of Loeffler and Perdue, who were paraded before the mob just long enough to absorb their manic “fight for Trump” chants. Heh. You clods thought he came all that way to help you? To give you a hand, out of the goodness of his heart? Does that sound like Donald Trump to you?
No, he was there to threaten y’all. “You want me to drive these cattle to the polls? Shit, you need me to, if you’re to have a snowball’s chance of competing with the massive coalition that rose up in opposition to my avalanche of atrocities. Well, you heard ‘em: fight for Trump.”
Alternatively, he can bring their bovine fury down upon your head; just ask Brian Kemp. I mean, the election is over. The fight is lost. Georgia’s votes have been counted three times and certified twice. But still, Hairplug Himmler calls to demand deliverance from democracy.
“There’s simply no way to accomplish that, Mr. President,” Kemp frantically attempts to explain, but it is an unforgiving Turd God you Republicans have elevated; you get him what he wants or he feeds you to the volcano.
See, that’s what pushes this shit over the line from garden-variety authoritarianism to pure Trumpist madness: not only must you overthrow the entire American system of government for your Maggot Monarch, he also requires you to design the whole plan from scratch and put in all the legwork yourself, and if you could get that done by the time he’s finished golfing, that’d be stupendous. The laziness in the face of such astronomical stakes is...Garfieldian.
Anyway, this particular excommunication ritual has been repeated countless times these last four years, yet somehow Republicans just keep lining up to get fed, one after another, into the wood chipper. Y’know, one of the reasons this party is so bad at governing is that they’re incapable of learning. (And 2020’s lessons have not been subtle.)
Like, what sort of Stalinist fun house are we locked in where only 27 of the 249 Republicans in the House and Senate are willing to acknowledge, on the record with the Washington Post, the objective truth of Joe Biden’s landslide victory? It’s not in dispute. You wouldn’t ask Roy Blunt if mustard exists.
Look at this silly, childish inaugural committee vote. Sure, it’s just some arcane bit of political theatre we never once thought about, but it’s still the leaders of the congressional Republican Party, frickin’ Mitch McConnell and Kevin McCarthy, lending the prestige of their offices to this dangerous drivel, and fucking OF COURSE it’s radicalizing millions of Americans.
Meanwhile, Texas AG Ken Paxton, certainly no stranger to bringing shame upon his office, picked up a half-eaten crayon and drafted his own warped, treasonous parody of a lawsuit, demanding the invalidation of crucial swing states’ election results, because the voices that speak to him through his molars are reasonably confident there was oodles of fraud.
Will any of this clownish fuckery succeed? Fucking of course not, it’s shitty performance art designed to distract and manipulate a colicky manchild king, but it’s also gasoline on millions of fires burning in millions of individual rabbit holes. This is how we wind up with armed terrorists besieging Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson’s private residence. I was really hoping the GOP would get out of the stochastic terror business post-Dotard, but I suppose these moral weaklings will never stop finding new ways to let us down, will they?
Yeah, seems like home delivery has become quite the popular innovation in wingnut rage swarm circles; the trend is really taking off in Idaho, where death cultists, excuse me, "anti-maskers" terrorized a 12-year-old child in his home, in the name of preserving the coronavirus’ God-given right to spread, unimpeded, from host to host.
Ron DeSantis finally earned his Police State Crackdown merit badge, sending armed officers to raid a coronavirus whistleblower’s home, menacing her children at gunpoint. See, Ron-Ron shows us where the Trump-infected Republican Party is headed; thuggish, mediocre white dudes experimenting with state violence to see how much they can get away with. Fascism filtered through the frat house. Gonna be great.
All across the nation, pundits shouted BINGO, as Rudy Giuliani became the latest Shart House figure to contract COVID-19. He was quickly joined by fellow Elite Legal Ninja Strike Force With Laser Eyes Too team member Jenna Ellis; the uninfected list is pretty much down to Betsy DeVos and Eric’s sex pillow, the one bearing Betty Rubble’s faded, crusty likeness.
Typhoid Rudy’s treacherous vacation exposed so many Arizona Republicans they had to shut down both houses of the state legislature, an event which concisely illustrates why I seldom invite death cultists to game night.
And the Empress Malaria unveiled her snazzy new ”tennis pavilion,” because “reading the room” doesn’t translate into Slovenian. I can’t imagine future administrations will even use these courts, on account of the absolute certainty they will haunted by the restless Covid dead.
Nothing drives home the reality of American decline under the Turd Reich quite like watching coronavirus vaccination begin...in other countries. England started dispensing doses this week, and Canada won’t be far behind, but here in the U.S. we’re doing this wacky thing where we let malicious idiots make life-or-death decisions for the rest of us, I don’t get it either, ANYWAY point is we’ve still got quite a few weeks of rather intense dying ahead of us yet. Who’s a superpower NOW, huh?
And fucking of COURSE Doctor Dotard declined a deal to acquire millions of doses of the Pfizer vaccine for U.S. citizens. Of COURSE those doses, including many manufactured on American soil, will instead be shipped to foreign nations who had the good sense not to elect yam-brained assclowns. Never forget, America, you make this mistake, you pay for it every minute for four years, no days off for good behavior.
I see Princess Ivanka and Jar-Jar, understanding they’ll be despised forever by all decent human beings, bought themselves a plot of land on a heavily-guarded island for peasant-fearing billionaires, in a refreshing, if uncharacteristic acknowledgement of objective reality by high-ranking Trump administration officials.
The Arizona GOP, again, the very party exposed to a potentially lethal disease by Tangerine Idi Amin’s high priest just a few short days ago, apparently feels perfectly comfortable encouraging their base to die for Donald Trump, who would merrily set any one of them on fire for six dollars and a half-filled sandwich shop punch card. There’s gotta be a better cult you can join, guys. There’s just got to be.
And somehow Ron Johnson is still, STILL babbling about hyrdroxyfuckingchlorquine and platforming anti-science maniacs? Do we have to revisit drinking bleach and shining magic lights up our buttholes, too? Can we please move on from at least some of the lunacy? The parts that’re getting folks killed, anyhow?
You know deep in his broken, transactional heart, the Shart of the Deal truly expected the Supreme Court to gratefully deliver the United States government to him on a plate, to be looted in perpetuity by his shitty grifter spawn, so I sincerely hope some enterprising aide whipped out their phone in time to record the tantrum he threw when he received word they’d rejected his latest dumbfuck lawsuit. History deserves to see that tantrum. As do I, personally.
I really thought I was gonna make it through this shitstorm with my sanity scarred but basically intact, but watching Louie Gohmert’s tooth fall out, something deep within me finally snapped. Without quite understanding how, I find myself sewing an elaborate costume and working up a plot to kill the Batman. I...don’t even know where all this pleather came from.
What madness. And now Lou Dobbs and Stephen Miller are squabbling like shitty loser fascist cats and evil scumfuck Nazi dogs. 17 different Republican state attorneys general have joined Texas in their Pretty Please Murder Democracy For Us Amy Coney Barrett lawsuit, and...I dunno, I kinda thought everybody would be like, happy and relieved to leave the cray-cray con man death cult behind, but I guess some folks just like screeching gibberish while covered in their own filth. Different strokes.
Wait, what’s this? President Crotchvoid got Ted Cruz to agree to argue Paxton’s fatuous lawsuit before the Supreme Court? Don’t get me wrong, Ted’s ongoing debasement has been a welcome bright spot during dark times, but this is getting hard to watch. He’ll be dog-walking Cruz up and down the National Mall by a string of anal beads before long.
Well, forgive me for the unorthodox schedule this week, I’m adjusting to the post-election news cycle. If there’s not enough fresh bat guano by Friday to merit a full blog....hmmmm, I dunno what I’ll do. Might post a short one to get back on schedule, might post Saturday, might catch up next Monday. We’ll see. Only thing I know for certain is what comes next, which is drinking. Stay safe out there, friends.
"We're All Mad Here," the Georgia GOP's New Motto (F/SC)
Ah, another wondrous, fun-filled week, trapped in America with an idiot death cult hellbent on playing chicken with objective reality. You can check out any time you like, but...well, you know.
(“Oh, if only this post had helpful news links!” Your wish is my command: http://showercapblog.com/were-all-mad-here-the-georgia-gops-new-motto/)
I’m not gonna lie, the winning has been spectacular, but watching the vanquished Velveeta Vulgarian discover heretofore unimagined new ways to lose, all day, every day? It turns out that not only is the death of a would-be dictator’s dream a mighty goddamn satisfying thing to behold, but repetition doesn’t deaden the delight in the slightest. Keep on filin’ these lawsuits, Dotard, our appetite for your humiliation is insatiable.
Like, didja see where he threatened to veto the big defense spending bill, unless it includes his Revenge on Twitter For Being Mean to Me clause, and Congress just went, “Aw, look at the wee lame duck, he squawks so amusingly?” SO GOOD. I mean, I don’t want to get my hopes up, but a massive bipartisan veto override would make for an absolutely orgasmic capper to this glorious period of public degradation.
Also, President Shartcannon issued what he claimed was the “most important speech” of his reign, a meandering, lie-filled, 46-minute rant on why the final season of Game of Thrones was unsatisfactory or some shit; I dunno, I didn’t watch it, and neither did anybody else. Your once-mighty pulpit is turning to sand and running right through those tiny, inadequate fingers, isn’t it, little grifter?
Mike Flynn joined Roger Stone in calling for martial law, which strikes me as a smiiiiidge greedy for a couple of convicted felons who would be in prison right now were they not best buds (and co-conspirators) with the most corrupt President in American history. Quit while you’re ahead, boys.
Zounds, Republicans in Georgia sure are putting on a show; it’s like the Butter Battle Book, only nothing rhymes and everyone is a festering asshole. I wasted all my Frankenstein jokes last blog, and that was before Sidney Powell and Lin Wood proclaimed that deep state Democucks like Brian Kemp and Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue must be punished for their failure to deliver the Turd Emperor from democracy’s cruel jaws! Real Muricans must boycott the GOP in the coming runoff! There simply aren’t enough Frankenstein jokes to keep up with this crap!
Now Noot Gingrich is all, “Wait, we want you hateful and crazy but not THIS hateful and crazy!” as though there’s any corralling the rabid throng once you’ve spiked the punch bowl at the Klan rally with bath salts. So you see, electing Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff to the Senate not only pries power from Mitch McConnell’s tyrannical terrapin claw, it delivers sweetest pure cane justice to the very fucks who unleashed this plague of disinformation in the first place.
Like, this is what happens when you fail to condemn Rudy Giuliani as he farts his way through the national discourse, spreading dangerous, ridiculous lies that millions now believe. Yes, when the President of the United Frickin’ States’ lawyer platforms braindead maniacs, your army of credulous rubes will dutifully swallow whatever river of horseshit said maniacs belch forth; it’s what you’ve trained them to do. The cult giveth, and the cult taketh away.
More bad news, Republicans, not only has the mob grown too feral to tame, your own clumsy attempts at voter fraud have blown up in your faces, partially because voter fraud is extremely rare and easy to detect, partially because your man here is a massive dumbass with a stupid plan.
So yeah, here we are, on the brink of an election with control of the Senate at stake; Democrats more energized and organized than ever before, Republicans worried they’ve finally driven their base too insane to vote. It won’t be easy, but I like our chances; let’s win this shit.
I guess Crotchtumor, Jr. dreams of taking over the floundering, graft-wrecked National Rifle Association, like a needy child emulating Daddy’s work life with a plastic Playskool set: Baby’s First Death Cult. I like it, there’s an elegant loser symmetry in this pairing.
It’s kind of adorable, watching Senate Republicans’ flaccid attempts to resurrect their old Bad Faith Outrage Theatre shtick, like the last four years of oath-breaking, authoritarianism-enabling cowardice never happened. “Oh we couldn’t POSSIBLY confirm Neera Tanden, she sent mean tweets, P.S. everybody’s forgotten about that time the head of our party inspired a terrorist plot to storm the Michigan State Capitol in order to execute Governor Whitmer on live TV, right?”
Marsha Blackburn continues to behave like the most racist character in a Hollywood movie about racism, which I think is sort of a shame, on account of how she’s a U.S. Senator and all. Have I mentioned how cool it would be to seize the Senate from these shitty, shitty people? We should do that. In Georgia. In January.
Meanwhile, Operation: Rub My Ass All Over Everything Before Joe Gets Here continues, with a fresh round of purges at the Pentagon, and the last-minute installation of loyal bagmen like Corey Lewandowski and David Bossie. I bet Eric’s in charge of looting every supply cabinet in the executive branch, so that whatever grift they launch next year doesn’t have to buy paper clips or printer ink for a while.
Let’s see, what else’re these rat finks trying to fuck up on their way out the door? They’re rushing to auction off drilling rights in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, naturally, because Stephen Miller has encouraged everyone to pursue as much as evil as time will permit, I guess.
In another sign of the Turd Reich’s fading clout, Heidi Stirrup has been physically banned from the offices of the Justice Department. Who is Heidi Stirrup? Well, since we live in an extremely First World, not-at-all-a-shithole, healthy, functioning democracy, she is one of a series of spies appointed by the Shart House to keep tabs on the federal bureaucracy, and to make sure those uppity public servants aren’t letting the needs of the American people interfere with Hairplug Himmler’s political or financial interests. Heidi was digging for information to help her boss out with his attempted coup (remember that?), so we’re probably better off without her input.
Of course, one power remaining to Government Cheese Goebbels is the power of the pardon, and he’s clinging to it like a giant robot Rod Blagojevich made up of smaller robot Rod Blagojeviches. So if you’re wondering, “Why isn’t the president doing a single fucking thing about the pandemic that’s more out of control than ever, dear lord, it’s like 9/11 every day, why won’t he help us?” It’s because he’s trying to figure out exactly how much crime his parasitic family can get away with.
Now, I don’t know how he’s even managing it at this point, but I’ll be damned if Donnie Two-Scoops didn’t lose the election all over again, this time in Nevada, just while I was scribblin’ tonight. Oooooo, also Wisconsin! I never thought it was possible to lose so much in such a short time, he’s a miracle of fucking science.
Michigan now, too? Fuck, I have to stop now; I have a full evening of pointing and laughing ahead of me. I know y’all are (much) smarter than the average wingnut, but do stay extra-safe out there, friends; times are really quite intensely cray.
Losing Just Hurts More From Behind a Comically Small Desk (F/SC)
Well, I trust everyone enjoyed their long holiday weekend, and gave thanks for the extremely amusing ongoing downfall of one Donald John Trump, until recently the President of the United States, now merely an aesthetically displeasing perpetual motion losing machine.
(Wouldn’t it be nice to read this with all them nifty news links? http://showercapblog.com/losing-just-hurts-more-from-behind-a-comically-small-desk/)
I confess I didn’t follow every single election certification or humiliating court defeat, but the Seriously How Can One Man Lose This Much Show was a constant background presence, like the cheerily bland sitcom you keep on while you fold laundry or fiddle with your fantasy water polo team. Critics say it’s repetitive, but sometimes you just want fan service and comfort food, and what can I say, I like watching fascists step on rakes. Plus, whoever it is that’s playing Rudy Giuliani is phenomenal; doin’ some real Nic-Cage-meets-Lon-Chaney shit.
And you gotta love how Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops gets his hopes up every time Sidney Powell claims a talking salamander told her the voting machines in Pennsylvania were possessed by Vince Foster’s ghost or whatever. He truly expects this gibbering lunacy to hold up in court. His walnut brain can’t comprehend what’s happening to him; “I spend my father’s money until I get what I want” has been the universal truth of his entire skidmark life, y’see.
And so he kicks and screams and shits himself, and, because this is Hell, this doddering old bigot’s barely-coherent meltdowns are received as if from on high by his assclown acolytes, replacing reality with rage, consequences for American democracy be damned. Hell, he even found a handful of Pennsylvania state legislators willing to assist him in his attempted coup, which is kinda disappointing; ideally you’d like that number to be zero, I think.
There’s still plenty of last-minute fuckery to be perpetrated by the Turd Reich before Dad gets home, including a plan to Make Executions Medieval Again, because of course there’s some drooling wannabe supervillain in this buffet of assholes that wants to bring firing squads back. You sort of expect Stephen Miller to try to steal the physical Bill of Rights on the way out the door, just in case that works.
Well, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot did indeed pardon Mike “The Turkish Delight” Flynn, because honestly, is betraying your country really a crime if you hate Barack Obama a whole bunch? Now Rudy wants one, too (might need a couple; one for treason, one for Borat), so I hope you brought enough for everyone, Dotard.
The new Amy Coney Barrett-infused wingnut SCOTUS majority wasted little time flexing their meathead muscle, ruling that the death cult they serve has the right to spread plague in the name of religious liberty, which is insane in no small way. You read Gorsuch’s smug harangue, and you realize that A) the man lacks even a layman’s understanding of how the coronavirus spreads, and B) he feels not the slightest obligation to educate himself before wielding the awesome power of his office, and thus, Neil n’ Friendz merrily ruled in favor of the goddamn disease, against the American public, without a second thought. Not bangarang.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has decided to cancel the Best Production Design category this year, to spare the nominees the shame of comparison to the genius who set up that wee Fisher-Price table for Gameshow Göring’s Thanksgiving conniption.
And of course, the Georgia Senate runoffs are still ground zero for Death Stage Trumpism’s malignant mutation, with the Manchurian Manchild’s fascist shitfit hampering the state GOP’s GOTV efforts, because why pry yourself away from the soothing ragedrone of the All-New, All-Batshit Newsmax/OANN media bubble long to cast a vote in an election that’s already been rigged by Dead Hugo Chavez’s Deep State Cabal and Jug Band?
We’ve got a bunch of stories about Republicans in Georgia to get through tonight, and it’s basically A Child’s Treasury of Folks Who’ve Refused to Learn the Lessons of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein Even Though It’s Readily Commercially Available For Real There Are Even Several Movies.
Take for example, Ronna Can-I-Be-a-Romney-Again-Now-That-We’re-Fired McDaniel, frantically attempting to herd the hallucinating horde back towards the real world and the election that’s about to take place there, even as they petulantly demand a fresh pitcher of griffin piss to gargle. You’re not in control here, Ronna. You never were.
It must be said, even after a particularly nasty primary, no one can accuse Twitching Hatemarmot Doug Collins of being a poor team player, though in fairness, he seems delighted simply to have a platform to smear Martin Luther King Jr.’s church as “the bed of Hell.”
Of course, any party member refusing to screech as enthusiastically as Collins during the Two Minutes Hate is likely to become the next target of it. Just ask Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, who has received numerous death threats, with bonus threats of sexual violence targeting his wife, from this profoundly “Christian” movement, simply for doing his job and upholding the law.
Or ask Brian Kemp, who went to all the trouble of stealing the state’s governorship on behalf of his party, only to be brutally excommunicated for refusing to reach beyond the powers of his office to make the results of the election magically vanish like a mistress’ pregnancy.
Shit, by the end of the day, you had Republican Georgia election officials begging the President of the United States to stop inciting violence against them and their families. Devotees of the Frankenstein genre will note that the monster is generally disinclined, at this stage of his rampage, to heed either reason or calls for mercy.
Meanwhile, the more we learn about David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler, the more they look like such broad caricatures of the “corrupt politician” that they’d come off campy in Doris freakin’ Day movie, and it’s frankly sorta nuts that either one would get a single vote.
Joe diGenova, the attorney for the Turdmaggot Campaign who handles the tasks that don’t involve self-immolating in front of dildo shops, casually suggested the only just reward for Christopher Krebs’ treacherous adherence to objective reality is, naturally, a grisly, Inquisition-style public execution. While I understand kakistocracy is the hip new craze sweeping through MAGA nation quicker than Diet Cherry Meth, may I suggest we resist normalizing the political violence fantasies of the shittiest among us?
Speaking of the shittiest among us, boy, Scotty Atlas really jumped ahead in the rankings for this year’s White Privilege Cup, didn’t he? After a brief but gruesomely “successful” tenure as Fat Q*bert’s herd immunity whisperer, he now departs the Shart House for greener pastures, empty head held high over a body count that’s the envy of every hostile force that ever took up arms against the United States. Dude’s career going forward should be just two quick steps: from here to the catapult and from the catapult straight into the fucking sun.
I see the Hairplug That Ate Decency somehow squeezed another $170 million out of the Legion of Dumb, just since the election, because while he’s catastrophically awful at things like managing economies and responding to pandemics, he’s Michelangelo wrapped in Michael Jordan when it comes to monetizing the resentment of the white and subpar.
And now even Bilious Bill Barr admits he lacks the power to redact reality enough to grant his Turd Emperor a second term. You don’t need me to tell you that it took all of nine minutes for the mob to turn, in full fury, on Barr, far and away Trump’s most dangerously effective servant before today, and seriously, any of y’all could’ve picked up a paperback copy of Frankenstein for like, five bucks, any time you wanted to.
Couldn’t give us one goddamn weekend for turkey and football, even in defeat, couldja, ya unbelievable fucks? I see while I was writing tonight, Pardonamania ran truly wild, and I’ll get to that next time; for now, I need to visit the fridge for a round of leftover holiday beer. Stay safe out there, friends.
All This Creeping Normalcy, It's Like We're Still in Hell, But There's Cake Now (Ferret/Shower Cap)
While it’s certainly better than Hell, I confess I have yet to find my footing in our current Limbo. Like, we finally shut the malfunctioning thrill ride down after four long years, and it’s certainly nice not to be flung through the air at a hundred miles per hour every minute of every day, but the restraint bar is still in place, and frankly, I need to pee.
(Of course you are always invited to view this post, with links, here: http://showercapblog.com/all-this-creeping-normalcy-its-like-were-still-in-hell-but-theres-cake-now/)
We’re in for an incomprehensible Thanksgiving, as a political movement gone mad charges naked into battle with inescapable reality. We rational, responsible types can only watch from isolation as these feverishly insane people spread their death in the name of Whatever Tucker Carlson Told Them to Be Mad About This Week.
I’ve lost track of precisely which Shart House coronavirus outbreak swept Ben Carson off to the hospital, but thanks to cutting edge medical treatments available to him as a leading capo in the Trump Family Crime Syndicate, he pulled through. Of course, this level of care is hardly accessible to you serfs or your filthy taker families, though you are certainly welcome to form orderly lines outside your communities’ overflowing hospitals.
In fact, here’s a helpful Shower Cap Holiday Hack for ya: save time this Thanksgiving by heading directly from the food bank queue to the hospital queue! Getcherself a little hot plate that plugs into the cigarette lighter in your car; by the time the turkey heats up, you’ll be in prime position to snag the next available ventilator!
Historians will remember the last few days as the most gratifying in American history, as Tangerine Idi Amin’s dreams of finding a bunch of judges willing to end democracy for him deteriorated into a viscous blob of failure, public humiliation, and whatever was leaking out of Rudy Giuliani the other day.
Oddly enough, Trenchmouth McCousinfucker’s literal/figurative meltdown in Pennsylvania ultimately yielded little beyond an atomic wedgie delivered in blistering legalese, which is almost a shame, since he won’t be able to comprehend a word of it.
As his kakistocrat clowncar coup went down in flames, Donnie Dotard finally noticed he’d hired a team of defective One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest action figures to represent him in court. “They’re making me look bad!” he whinged, before retweeting a 172-minute-long video of James Woods reciting Anders Breivik’s manifesto.
His assessment, for once, isn’t wrong; Sidney Powell’s recent behavior has been extremely...well, “Sidney Powell-like” is the only term that comes to mind. So when she dropped her ultra-helpful DOUG COLLINS WUZ ROBBED BY THE DEEP STATE AND ALSO JEWS take smack dab in the middle of the crucial Georgia Senate runoffs, I mean, you’re the one who loves the scorpion story so much, bro. Sidney Powell is a machine that haphazardly spews toxic sludge; I don’t know why you’d turn it on in the first place, but you certainly don’t get to complain now that the carpet’s ruined.
So Sidney goes into the airlock, but Rudy gets to stick around? That doesn’t seem fair. The dividing competence line between those two maniacs is a gerrymander crooked enough to make Robin Vos blush.
At least these desperate, comical attempts to (lest we forget) overturn the 2020 election provided a steady supply of procedural milestones to celebrate. Yet another doomed lawsuit, filed in crayon on official Four Seasons Total Landscaping stationery*, laughed out of court? Michigan officially certifying their results, dashing the wacky plans of an underdog wannabe autocrat with a crazy dream of a world where Black folks’ votes don’t get counted? It’s like winning the election all over again, every time, and we fucking well deserve it.
It’s been a long, shitty year, and if I get to pop another bottle of champagne every time an election clerk in Philadelphia gets back from their lunch break, I am absolutely taking advantage of that opportunity. I say mythologize all this shit; going forward, every day in November is holy for one reason or another; we’ll write carols and make advent calendars.
Meanwhile, Joe Biden’s aggressively normcore politics continue their slow, steady infiltration of our news cycle, like a light breeze smelling of nothing in particular. With each individual appointment, and the accompanying resumé overflowing with expertise, excellence, and commitment to public service, rather than the “Nominee X initially drew the President‘s attention by smearing swastikas on the front door of a local elementary school in his own filth” stories we’ve grown accustomed to, I feel like Andy Dufresne emerging into the rain.
Well, stop the dang presses, Emily W. Murphy finally decided to do her goddamn job. Somewhere around the 8th or 9th confirmation of Joe Biden’s landslide victory, America’s breakout bureaucratic irritant, the Orwell It Girl herself, finally acquiesced to the overwhelming will of the electorate and permitted the transition to begin. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get your footnote in the history books, you giddy little goose-stepper.
Yes, the transition of power will be peaceful, if pissy. Between Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag’s bold experiments with sabotage-by-accounting and Mike Pompeo’s petulant plot to smash the nation’s toys rather than let his successors rejoin the Open Skies Treaty, it seems as though McConnellism is swiftly evolving from mere obstruction to active vandalism, and it would be really awesome if the Republican Party could stop viewing the majority of the American people as mortal enemies.
You may’ve missed it, but Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops finally crept out of his bunker for the first time in days, pathetically seeking to take credit for the stock market surge that occurred as a direct result of his overdue submission to reality. Didja see it? It didn’t last long. He’s living the narcissist’s nightmare right now; he lives for the spotlight, but he can’t bear it any longer, for it illuminates a loser.
...and then he has to waddle back out for the goddamn turkey pardoning! Like a forgotten sitcom star cutting the ribbon at a Fuddruckers opening! Shoot it straight into my fucking eyeballs; this evil fuck is finally falling out of the dignity tree and hitting every single branch on the way down and it is truly magnificent to behold.
Like, sneaking out of the G20 to sulk on the golf course because you just know he was paranoid all the other leaders were talking about what a loser he is, in all their fancy high-falutin’ foreign languages? I’ve been waiting a long time for this schadenfreude, and now that it’s here, nectar and ambrosia ain’t shit.
Heads up, with the long holiday weekend, this is likely the last time you’ll hear from me until next week. I expect less news than we’ve seen since the bygone normalcy of 2014, for which I’ll give thanks until I have no more thanks to give. I hope you and your loved ones are navigating this warped holiday season safely and sanely. See y’all soon.
*This is a big moment in Shower Cap’s Blog history, the first time I spelled this word correctly.
(I feel like I should clarify the Woods/Breivik thing was just a gag. It isn’t real. Yet.)
Everybody Enjoying This Sad, Silly Coup? Living in History Sure is Dumb. (Ferret/Shower Cap)
What if they threw a coup, and only the densest, skeeviest, mouthbreathingest clown school dropouts showed up? I swear, the textbooks of the future are going to switch without warning to comic sans when they reach this stupid, stupid period in American history.
(Find this one, with allllllll them nooz links, here: http://showercapblog.com/everybody-enjoying-this-sad-silly-coup-living-in-history-sure-is-dumb/)
Before we begin, a toast to the latest macabre milestone: our coronavirus death mound now measures a quarter of a million corpses high. “American exceptionalism” certainly carries a darker meaning in these waning days of 2020, as asymptomatic transmission and the wingnut disinformation bubble continue working their murderous magic, Laura Ingraham skipping merrily along, hand-in-hand with the Grim Reaper, in a plague-friendly perversion of the buddy system.
Rudy Giuliani, raw sewage leaking from seemingly every pore and orifice, called yet another press conference, as if to defiantly proclaim that yes, for a loser of less renown, the debacle at Four Seasons Total Landscaping would have been rock bottom, but I’m Amerikkka’s Mayor, dammit, and I’ve still got so much further to fall, Dante’s gonna learn a thing or two before I finally splatter.
Alongside Jenna Ellis and Sidney Powell because I guess Alex Jones and the Hamburglar were busy, Incesto the Clown bellowed and babbled the craziest fucking shit you will ever fucking hear; by the end of it, I honestly think he was speaking in tongues; you get enough cheap meth in these maniacs, everything comes out HUGO CHAVEZ AND GEORGE SOROS DID IT, y’know?
That’s just how things are now, during the Fuckwit Revolution, as the least intelligent people alive attempt to overthrow the U.S. government by punching themselves in the crotch over and over again.
It’s the weirdest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a bit like watching a video of some roly-poly baby bear struggling to open a jar, (sans the cuteness of course) and you’re all, “Wook at him! Him cannot get it open cuz him not haz thumbs,” but also there’s a small nuclear device inside the jar, so maybe we should take it away before the bear gets lucky?
Because we suddenly find ourselves at the point where the defeated incumbent President of the United States is saying, rather loudly, “The election didn’t go the way I wanted, I should now very much like to end democracy in America,” and the institutional GOP is all, “Donald just needs to damage to our institutions a little while longer, can’t you see he’s upset? Let him have this!”
Look, Martin Scorsese earned the right to inflict the last 35 minutes of The Irishman on us, but only after delivering decades of quality cinema; all you fucks’ve done is turn the motherfucking coronavirus loose on us like we’re a goddamn all you can eat buffet. Tell him he has to stop coup-ing or there won’t be any ice cream. Jesus.
The Dipshit Coup itself is, dear lord, SO much dumber than I expected, and my expectations were...I mean, c’mon, we’re talking about a Yosemite-and-Thailand-mispronouncin‘ clod, regularly thwarted by umbrellas and neckties. Just today, he retweeted a fake account, claiming to be his sister, because all you have to do to trick the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES into thinking you’re literally a member of his family is to make a Twitter account in their name; can you even IMAGINE how much Putin has been milking this fool?
My point is, even at THAT level of expectation, this shit is stupid beyond my wildest imaginings, like, What If the Pulp Fiction Suitcase Contained Stupidity, whether it’s alleging fraud in Michigan using data from Minnesota, or Rudy stopping just short of screaming “SIRI HOW DO YOU LAWYER?” in Williamsport. It shouldn’t be possible to fail this badly in public without combusting from shame.
Yes, it’s almost incomprehensibly dumb, but it is also dangerous, because this idiot death cult is growing discouragingly comfortable with political violence, as evidenced by the truly dispiriting outpouring of financial support for the child terrorist Kyle Rittenhouse, who posted $2 million bail today, and now walks free.
Speaking of shitty white boy terrorism, this week we learned some deeply fucked-up new details about the plans of that one white trash cell up in Michigan, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise us to learn rank-and-file Cult45ers are bombarding election officials with death threats; they’re just doin’ their humble part to bring a white nationalist dictatorship to America, by gum. I’m told we need to reach out to these people. I disagree.
The only signs the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor acknowledges his enormous, humiliating, landslide defeat on any level manifest in odd leaks about planned pettiness designed to make life harder for the incoming Biden Administration (and, by extension, the American people, some 70 million of whom apparently can’t wait to gobble up one last plateful of Tangerine Idi Amin’s shit) by recklessly “lighting fires” all over the world for no purpose greater than raw spite.
I really don’t have the heart to tell Wee Don that Joe is unlikely to take his seat behind the Resolute desk before a staffer removes the thumbtack he’s so childishly plotting to leave in place of the traditional gracious letter. They gotta steam-clean the joint, bro; between the lingering stench of experimental hair tonic and the inch-thick film of pure coronavirus adorning every surface, they’ll be running the country out of a Starbucks for the first few days.
Treasury Secretary Mnuchbag is getting in on the Torch the Oilfields in Retreat action, shutting down key emergency loan programs just as the fall surge begins to take its toll. This episode serves as a fun reminder that Mitch McConnell views his job, under a Democratic president, as “inflicting maximum harm until voters return the GOP to power,” and for no particular reason here’s a link for anybody who wants to help get Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff elected.
Speaking of Georgia, I see David Perdue got caught using his office for personal profit again, and I’m almost overwhelmed with whimsy, recalling the days when such serial corruption would have ended his political career. Of course, the contract between Republican officials and their voters is different now: you can rob ‘em blind so long as you trigger th’libs, and we all know Dave isn’t shy about deploying his dog whistle.
Willard Romney was widely praised for demonstrating Republican Bravery, which is sort of like regular bravery, only it comes weeks after the point it would have done any good. Whatever.
You’ll no doubt be pleased to learn Emily W. Murphy remains blissfully unconcerned about the damage she is single-handedly inflicting on the country by holding up the transition of power, which essentially amounts to humming Hakuna Matata at the funerals of the inevitable victims of her coronavirus response sabotage.
I see Rudy’s shitbrained kid caught himself a lil’ touch of the ‘rona. So did Rick Scott. This keeps happening, so I’m out of jokes on the subject, but of course the joke’s really on us, in that our country’s governing party is defined by a cultish refusal to ever learn anything about anything. Ha ha...hoo. Fuck.
Junior caught it, too, huh? I hope Kimberly reaches out responsibly to any donors she’s recently forced lap dances upon; contact tracing is very important.
...I honestly thought things would be at least marginally less cray-cray by this point. In hindsight, given the data, that was pretty foolish of me, but I take comfort in knowing that even after such an obvious mistake, I’m a goddamn genius next to the President’s legal team. Stay safe out there, my friends...
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