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TheFerret

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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 07:48 PM
Number of posts: 561

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Kansas, Jobs, Alex Jones...Are We Doing Good News Now? Did I Miss a Meeting? (Ferret)

Folks, I gotta tell ya, I had a little trouble with this week’s blog. Just couldn’t get into the right headspace for some reason. Sure, there was the usual litany of abject madness to document, but there was something else, too.

(Makes more sense on the site: https://showercapblog.com/kansas-jobs-alex-jonesare-we-doing-good-news-now-did-i-miss-a-meeting/)

I think it was maybe…hope? That’s a word, right? “Hope?” Feels kinda weird in my mouth, honestly. But good weird.

So, I grew up in Kansas, which is a wonderful place for a young progressive to move away from, and, based on all previous experience, my expectations of that electorate heading into Tuesday’s abortion referendum were…not real high. There wasn’t a lot of polling, and besides, we’re all battle-conditioned to expect that last-minute horde of rampaging regressives to emerge from yet another sewer Marist somehow failed to detect.

But let me say, it’s quite a bit more fun on the other side of an unforeseen voting surge. Wonder if Rich Lowry still feels so smug about the negligible effects of the “abortion controversy.” Of course, it’s still only one data point, and we can’t really know what it means for November until we get there, but the election nerds on the internet have been saying some mighty interesting things, and even better, the activists in Kansas helpfully left the rest of us one helluva mobilization blueprint.

But the good gnus didn’t stop there, as last week’s deus ex Manchina gave way, after a mildly excruciating waiting period, to Sinemania, and holy crap, it looks like we’re gettin’ a reconciliation bill! Then there was that unexpectedly good jobs report, plus, I found a nickel on the bathroom floor by the urinals!

Yeah…”hope.” I’m pretty sure that’s a real word, but it might be something I got from Dr. Seuss. I’ll look it up later.

Because there’s still an entire Augean stable of Republican madness to muck out, same as every week. Still, it is nice, for a change, to wade through it with some concrete reasons to believe all this asshat theocrat overreach is about to blow up in these motherfuckers’ faces.

Let’s start with the primaries.

YIKES.

We’re replacing What’s the Matter with Kansas? with By Satan’s Unholy Butthole What the Living Fuck is Wrong with You, Arizona? I don’t know what sort of artisanal, small-batch ivermectin they’re mainlining in that wing of the death cult, but it is very, very bad for the part of the brain that evaluates leadership qualities.

Gubernatorial candidate Kari Lake damn nears blacks out a conspiracy loon bingo card, yet still pales in comparison to the odious Blake Masters, who’ll fit right in on the unfit fuckwit Senate kickline, right between Herschel Walker and Dr. Oz.

I know I toss the word “kakistocracy” around a lot, but what else do you call this? If you were playing a game called What Job Should Herschel Walker Have, how many generations of your family would live and die before anyone suggested “United States Senator?”

Meanwhile, Tudor Dixon, the whackjob picked to take on Governor Whitmer in Michigan, is “only” an election denier and an anti-abortion fanatic, so she hasn’t generated much national media attention, since she hasn’t said anything like, I dunno, “George Soros puts carcinogens in Levi’s to give Real Americans butt cancer.” Yet.

At least the Missouri branch passed on both the violent sex criminal and the celebrity gun-pointer, though the Eric who emerged dominant from that particular turd-wrestling pit looks plenty disastrous on his own.

Speaking of, we really must mention the Velveeta Vulgarian’s mega-weaselly “I’m endorsing ALL THE ERICS tee hee” bet-hedging here, because it was such an exquisitely Trumpian piece of business, even more pathetic than the whole wait-till-the-polling-tells-me-who’s-going-to-win-and-I’ll-endorse-that-guy act he’s been pulling all year. Inheriting billions of dollars must be a ton of fun, but if it came with an inescapable, debilitating fear of being perceived as a loser, I think I’d pass.

(Spending every waking moment of your life in mortal terror that everyone around you thinks you’re a loser is what makes you a loser, by the way, you massive fucking loser. It takes literal cult-level indoctrination to make people overlook your towering loserdom.)

Anyhoo, all the usual wingnut primary rituals were observed; the losers’ furious proclamations of cheating, rigging, and general Jewish space-lasering; as ever, the smaller the vote total, the louder and shriller the yapping. The winners won fair and square of course, though the road to November runs through antifa country, and you best believe any voter who doesn’t want to be governed by meth-huffing freaks is a deep state plant, and probably a pedophile.

The Senate GOP finally ended their self-destructive shitfit, and passed the PACT Act, perhaps understanding this isn’t the moment to provide extra evidence of their loathsomeness to the public. Sure was fun watchin’ ‘em squirm, though. Shit, any time Ted Cruz feels like picking a messaging fight with Jon Stewart, I’m clearing my calendar.

Still, hydroxychloroquine spokesdolt Ron Johnson helpfully reminded the electorate that, in addition to their radioactive culture war aggression, Republicans would very much like to slash popular safety net programs, like Medicare and Social Security. Every day RoJo manages to get his shirt on without suffocating himself is a fucking miracle.

In the interest of full disclosure, I am hereby announcing that, like damn near every member of the Trump Administration, my text messages from January 6th, 2021 have mysteriously vanished, though mine revolved around a far humbler criminal conspiracy, to procure a small number of, let’s call them “special” brownies, from a gentleman of my acquaintance who prefers to remain anonymous at this time. I apologize and pledge to behave in exactly the same manner going forward.

Ron DeSantis, as part of his ongoing audition to become America’s Next Top Autocrat, suspended a democratically elected state attorney for refusing to flog all the filthy sluts who don’t understand that Ron DeSantis owns their bodies. You know, small government stuff. Not the move I’d make, post-Kansas, but then, I’m not a goose-stepping thug.

And the Deposed Dotard teamed up with the journalist-dismembering House of Saud to play some controversial new version of golf where, as I understand it, instead of putting, you rub blood money all over your nude, flaccid body. Box office for this revolutionary collision of brazen corruption and golf’s intrinsic boringness was, well, on-brand.

And yes, while Wee Donnie One-Term throws poorly-attended golf parties for terrorists, Joe Biden’s more inclined to send freaky, sci-fi knife missiles to kill them, which would probably give those sagging approval ratings a boost, if we still lived in a society with a bipartisan consensus that terrorism is bad.

While we’re on that topic, you remember last week, when it took days of public pressure to make Doug Mastriano grudgingly condemn his white nationalist buddy, who runs a social media hate site? Well, the response from the Gab "community" was a full fucking fusillade of anti-Semitic threats, which is absolutely bone-chilling, occurring so close to a Republican gubernatorial campaign, and I just had a stray vision of some future GOP where Dougie here is the venerable statesman, urging moderation as Donald Trump III calls for the forced sterilization of everybody who’s left-handed, and I don’t know whether to chuckle or weep.

The whole damn American Right, top to bottom, keeps on fumbling with fascism’s bra clasp in some shadowy corner of the Romney family car elevator, but I guess we’re numb to that by now. Vikky Orbán gave his sinister little Fascism For Dummies seminar at CPAC, to an audience of aspiring concentration camp middle managers, and America barely blinked.

You scroll right past articles about Capitol rioters getting sentenced, and some epidemiologist-threatening weirdo getting sentenced, with a vague sense that yeah, there’re always a bunch of domestic terrorists workin’ their way through the justice system nowadays, but then you land on New York Cop Bought Rifle for Neo-Nazi ‘Rapekreig’ Marine Who Planned Synagogue Attack, which is maybe the most disturbing procession of words I’ve ever encountered, and you think maybe we shouldn’t docilely accept this insanity as our new normal.

…still, at a certain point, Republicans’ll run the numbers, and “evolve” on felon voting rights, that’ll be something. All kindsa logistical difficulties pop up when your turnout strategy relies on inciting terrorist violence.

If you’re wondering why I gouged my eyes out, it was Alex Jones’ testimony this week. It’s delightful, of course, to finally bleed some cash out of that hate-engorged tick, but his shamelessness in the face of all the harm he’s caused, I just find it unbearable.

…the text messages bit was pretty sweet, though.

Those texts are on their way to every law enforcement outfit from the feds to the January 6th commission to the Teen Titans, by the way. Just think, Alex, all that time you spent terrorizing grieving families, you could’ve been googling “how can you tell if your lawyer’s brain is actually a half-consumed pudding cup that hasn’t been stored properly?” instead. Ah, hindsight.

Yeah, it’s been pretty gross out there, but I’m still dancin’, because KANSAS, y’all. It’s a whole dang new world out there; you stay safe so you can enjoy it with me.

I got big plans for that nickel, too. 

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Joe Manchin (Ferret)

American politics is like some sort of warped nature show, about animals behaving in impossibly self-destructive ways that upset everything we believe about evolutionary survival instincts. You can almost hear the gobsmacked British narrator, wondering why on earth that herd of wildebeests is lapping up that hydroxychloroquine spill.

(Better with links: https://showercapblog.com/or-how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love-joe-manchin/)

Hey everybody, we’ve got a brand new sponsor here at Shower Cap’s Blog! Please give a warm Resistance welcome to MANHOOD, the forthcoming tome on “masculine virtues” scribed by lynch mob-inciting Senator Josh Hawley, who famously possesses neither masculinity nor virtue.

Joshie’s gonna sell a ton of these. To his own campaign, sure, maybe a couple crates to the RNC, assuming they can actually get out from under the Deposed Dotard’s legal debt, but loads n’ loads, I assure you. Like, even the incel community Hawley is targeting here will have no trouble recognizing the author’s lack of expertise on the topic at hand.

Anyway. Yet again, we don’t get to just sit back and laugh and laugh and laugh at Josh Hawley, which both he and we so richly deserve, on account of all the Nazi shit. Even Hawley’s shit is Nazi shit, really, albeit of a largely harmless, and decidedly amusing variety. “Manhood.” Lordy.

A little on the scarier side are Trumpworld’s fast-congealing plans, to rot the federal government out from within, by staffing it with obsequious, amoral thugs, should the Turd Reich rise from the fashy ashes in 2024. Thugs like Jeffrey Clark, who’ll either be Attorney General or disbarred, depending on how the Rust Belt swings, which I suppose makes as much sense as anything in our gameshowified politics.

Read the whole Axios two-parter on this shit, if you haven’t already, but…keep the lights on, y’know? Because the hoods’re starting to come off, have you noticed that?

Seriously, what does it take to get a fascist disinvited from CPAC these days? (Read that in a Rodney Dangerfield voice if it helps.)

Viktor Orbán has never been a particularly subtle fellow. Everyone knows what he is: the prototype for every racist, fear-mongering, wannabe autocrat in the West. That’s why he got invited to CPAC in the first place. Behold the Tyrant in His Splendor. Gather at his feet, and learn of his secrets.

But now, a longtime advisor has resigned, comparing him to Goebbels for his objectively Goebbelslike statements on the undesirability of “race-mixing.” See? No hood on Vikky. He’s proud of what he is. So fucking of course he’s still speaking at CPAC. Probably getting a nicer gift basket now. Artisanal bath salts, and an advance copy of MANHOOD, autographed imperceptibly by the author with his ink-dipped pencil dick.

Now, you know democracy’s firing on all cylinders when you find yourself within a single calendar week containing multiple stories about Republicans refusing to condemn the literal, actual Nazis in their ranks. Yes, the High Priests of DeSantistan sure get mad when you point out the swastika flags that keep popping up at their events, but they never seem to get mad at themselves for throwing the sort of parties that attract Nazis in the first place, don’t you find that strange?

And as much as I would love to move on from this distressingly specific topic, Doug Mastriano won’t let me. It is truly obscene, the amount of public pressure it took to make this freak, who wants to be Governor of a whole-ass state, distance himself ever so lightly from his ally and associate Andrew Torba, founder of the social media hate site Gab, who unapologetically hung a No Jews Allowed sign on their shared “movement.”

Always on the bleeding edge of ascendant American fascism, Marjorie Taylor Greene wants to know, what’s so bad about Christian nationalism anyway? Which is not even the vilest thing she said this week, from her perch in the United States Congress, where she was sent by the voters of the Georgia 14th, in their infinite wisdom.

Gleefully snatching the dominionist taunting baton from Marj was Justice Sam “I Am the Boss of You, Actually” Alito, who’s clearly feeling saucy about the way he gets to impose his puritan will on all us heathen peasants. Have your fun, old man. Today is not forever.

Do not let these fucks troll you, by the way. The louder they crow about all the shitty, unpopular things they’ve done, and all the shitty, unpopular things they can barely wait to do, the quicker they build the coalition that’ll reverse their work.

Honestly, how long do these asshats imagine the American public will tolerate these abuses of their stolen, illegitimate power? These assaults on our fundamental human rights?

Not long. The generic congressionals are swinging exactly as hard as you’d think they would in the face of a hostile takeover by a vindictive, fanatical minority. And, with the January 6th commission’s stupendous work piledriving Trumpism’s ballsack into powder, suddenly Republican bigwigs are starting to wonder whether fielding a sackful of buttholes as their Senate slate was really such a good idea.

For example: J.D. Vance, who qualifies, terrifyingly, as the GOP’s least insane swing-state candidate, turns out to be not only the sort of fellow who believes women should stay in violently abusive marriages, but one who believes it so much that he presents it, in public, as a Very Good Idea of His That Other Folks Ought To Adopt, as he seeks election. That’s all it’ll take to make America great again, folks…just a little more domestic violence. Makes perfect sense.

So yeah, the We’ve Made a Huge Mistake articles’ve begun mysteriously cropping up around that campaign. Herschel Walker’s is at the My God What Have We Done stage. Meanwhile, Dr. Oz wanders to and fro, dazed and clownlike, in the background, seemingly oblivious to his opponent’s extremely effective (and frankly hilarious) campaign to define him to the electorate.

New data from the fashometer reveals that nearly 1 in 3 Americans think it’s just about time to do some violent insurrecting/Capitol rioting of their own. And that’s a spine-chilling statistic by itself, but the trouble is, we all know these pollsters need to ask a few follow-up questions here. Like, say, “How many hours per day do you spend fantasizing about murdering your personal and political enemies? In these fantasies, do you use a hatchet, an AR-15, or, I dunno, that sex pillow you had custom-made to look like your cousin?”

When you get the chance, run that poll by Clay Higgins, who certainly gave America an illuminating peek inside his skull, at his, um, shall we say, “detailed” cop-killing fantasies, during a congressional hearing on gun violence. At the risk of editorializing, the only thing a raving maniac like Clay Higgins needs less than a firearm is a seat in the House of Representatives.

Speaking of that madhouse, ‘twas a busy week for Congressman Gaetz, as he struggled to work his way through history’s skeeviest bucket list, before the feds close in, and he begins his new life, as a celebrity child rapist in prison, sure to be a lengthy tale if nothing else.

He joined the creepiest creeps in his creepy creep caucus in voting against an anti-sex trafficking bill, for essentially the same reasons Betty Crocker would vote against a bill banning cake.

Oh, and, attempting to emulate his Turd Emperor, young Matthew made some snide, snickeringly infantile comment, demeaning women’s looks, as though the entire world doesn’t know his own sex life consists of paying to rape children.

Elsewhere in the House, some subpar twerp called “Glenn Thompson” voted against gay rights before tromping cluelessly off to his gay son’s wedding, but it’s only that second part that might get him in trouble with his party’s base. Those shameless hypocrisy seminars with Scott DesJarlais have served Republicans well.

So, on the eve of the defamation trial that will hopefully bankrupt him, Alex Jones went on Steve Bannon’s podcast, and oh shit, I forgot to mention that you shouldn’t read this paragraph if you’ve eaten in the last hour. Bannon called Jones “one of the great thinkers,” and Jones returned the favor, complimenting the unsettling, but undeniable grandeur of the bizarre ecosystems that have formed in the primordial layers between his host’s shirts.

Congratulations to Rand Paul and Tulsi Gabbard for landing on a list of prominent Russian propagandists; you can stick that on one of the many shelves in your office that aren’t full of Legislator Who Did a Good Job Serving Their Constituents awards.

The massive corruption scandal in Mississippi has reached the doorsteps of former governors and Very Important Football Men, so naturally, they’re firing the investigators. Yeah, they’re really draining the swamp down there, which means they’re gonna need to find someplace else to bury all the folks Tate Reeves got killed during the pandemic.

The enormous, Soros-funded, deep state conspiracy against all thing Real and Murican runs even deeper than we knew, all the way up the goddamn phylogenic tree of life, y’all. Or so says Sean Hannity, anyhow, in an entirely rational, extremely normal, not-at-all loony diatribe, about the coronavirus unfairly singling out Donald “Drink Bleach” Trump for a meaner version of Covid than Joe “Actually Don’t Drink Bleach, That Would Be Silly and Ineffective” Biden caught.

Yes, all is well and good in the United States of America, where some purchase their own, personal, private dinosaur skeletons, while others are asked to exchange their labor for fried chicken. Don’t let the lamestream liberal media tell you there’s an income inequality problem, though. Take your MyDewormer and go to bed.

Buried as we are ‘neath this avalanche of scat, surely only Andrew Yang’s vanity project can save us, says Andrew Yang, fooling Andrew Yang and no one else. Oh man, it’s gonna be so fun, seasoning this struggle to save democracy with a bunch of fruitless internet arguments with toxic third party bros. Again. So fun.

I know there’re folks out there who worried that Merrick Garland spent the last year and a half playing Minesweeper, so I hope everyone’s resting easier now that we officially know DoJ has been investigating Donnie One-Term’s role in the Stoopid Coo.

‘Specially since they’ve got Mark Meadows’ phone records. I guess there’s not much time to worry about OPSEC when you’re doing lines with Junior, so you can stay up one more hour, brainstorming ways to sneak Sidney Powell and Mike Lindell onto the Supreme Court, but goddamn, that guy left one helluva trail.

You’ll be pleased to learn that U.S. veterans exposed to toxic burn pits while risking their lives in service to the nation, those filthiest of takers, shall suckle no treatment from the teat of your government, thanks to the great patriots of the Senate Republican Caucus.

This was part of the larger GOP tantrum in response to the week’s unexpected deus ex Manchina, when a certain West Virginia Senator decided that actually, he’d quite enjoy using reconciliation to pass the most significant climate bill in American history, thank you kindly. And there was much rejoicing.

…except amongst Mitch McConnell’s decidedly un-merry band of obstructionists, of course. They always get pissy when Democrats do that Democrat thing, where we solve the problems we’re elected to solve, instead groveling before reality television personalities, or mucking out the DeVos family stables. Highlights unflattering differences between the parties, y’see.

So it’s time once more for the ol’ How Dare You Wield the Power You Earned at the Ballot Box meltdown, which I don’t remember hearing during the heady days of SCOTUS heists and tax cuts for the rich. Susan Collins, dissatisfied with her existing shameful place in civil rights history, poutingly threatened to withhold support for the LGBTQ rights bill, because Susan Collins will always find the path to simpering fecklessness; it’s simply what Susan Collins does.

But yeah, Biden’s actually doing pretty damn well these days, (for a deepfake hologram man, anyway) deftly outmaneuvering the Party of No with razor-thin congressional majorities. Why, it’s almost like it’s not his first rodeo.

Good, cuz we could use the wins. And I could use a beer, now that I think of it. So I’ll sign off till next week. Stay safe out there, chums.

The Hawley Scamper, and Other Fascist Dance Crazes (Ferrrrret)

I’ve just learned we live not only in an era of rampant disinformation and ascendant fascism, but also, it would appear, to my chagrin and horror…the age of the Velveeta martini, and perhaps it’s time to pull the plug on the American experiment after all.

(Git dem links: https://showercapblog.com/the-hawley-scamper-and-other-fascist-dance-crazes/)

I know you’re all probably drowning in Cillizzafied listicles about “takeaways” from the most recent January 6th hearing, but I feel the appropriate framing goes something like Four Winners and Eight Losers From Thompson-Cheney Overdrive’s Latest Prime Time Smackdown (And Six of the Losers Are Josh Hawley From Different Angles).

Yes, the journey from Mob-Inciting Terrorist Fist Jab to Scampering For Dear Life turns out to be a short one, and now, young Joshkins finds himself the proud owner of a character-exposing video clip sure to dog his autocratic ambitions for the rest of his malignant days. Sometimes people are exactly who you think they are.

In a better world, we’d get to spend the next week or so sifting through the avalanche of Hawley-eviscerating internet content, chuckling and picking out favorites, but we’re trying to get to the bottom of a plot to violently overthrow the federal government, in order to work our way back to that whole “peaceful transfer of power” thing, which I for one plan to appreciate more going forward…assuming it ever happens again.

Anyway, this week’s installment was a deep dive on Tangerine Idi Amin’s “Stall Till the Lynching’s Done” strategy, while his brigade of brainwashed buttholes stormed the Capitol, providing yet another helpful lesson on the dangers of elevating sociopathic narcissists to positions of awesome political power, titled, “The One Where, Holy Fucking Shit, Mike Pence’s Security Detail Called Their Families To Say Goodbye.”

Yep, Off-Brand Orbán basically sat there, in a puddle of his own filth, glued to the idiot box, tweeting incitement, hoping mob violence would succeed where kakistocrat krakens and demented pillow merchants had failed. The White House sat at the precise intersection of idiocy and evil that day.

Video outtakes of the Manchurian Manchild’s statements from January 6th and 7th reveal a downright sullen tyrant, as unwilling to condemn the murderous throng as to be made to eat his peas. His aversion to asking his loser army to “stay peaceful” seems shocking, sure, until you remember there were a couple of times when Obama didn’t wear a flag pin.

And let’s be honest, as excommunicated apostate Adam Kinzinger noted, Cult45 has no intention of staying peaceful. Don’t believe me? Ask former D.C. police officer Michael Fanone.

I know decency isn’t really a “thing” on the Right anymore, but could we give it a rest with the stochastic terrorism? Please? At least for the duration of the Siri, Show Me How Stochastic Terrorism Works hearings?

No, I suppose not. Frankly, with new witnesses coming forward, necessitating a whole second wave of televised sessions this fall, now’s exactly when you want to make the rounds, distributing horse heads in potential squealers’ beds.

Still, it’s fairly terrifying to see such thuggish witness intimidation perpetrated via the official Twitter account of the House GOP. It’s a nifty little arrangement they’ve worked out, the elected officials and their pet mob…we’ll provide the permission structure, you’re in charge of the “random” acts of violence. Cozy.

Shit, the Deposed Dotard is still trying to overturn the 2020 election, fucking STILL. Congratulations on finding a depth even a festering taintfungus like Robin Vos won’t sink to, by the way.

Incidentally, Melania apparently claims she was oblivious to the whole dang riot, start to finish, because she was taking pictures of a rug. And while that’s ridiculous, bordering on insulting, I imagine that when one spends significant time around the Trumps, one swiftly concludes that lies hardly require plausibility to successfully deceive. (You’ll recall, Eric famously sued over a game of “got your nose,” seeking recovery of the purloined proboscis, as well as substantial damages for emotional distress.)

So, Garrett Ziegler, a low-level Peter Navarro minion during the Stupid Coo, won’t be graduating to pull-up pants any time soon, judging by his misogynistic meltdown following testimony before the January 6th commission. In hindsight, who but incels would staff the fast-sinking Shartanic during the final days of the Turd Reich?

Yes, it’s quite the grotesque congregation of flies swarming around the turd of late-stage Trumpism. Indicted insurrectionist bureaucrat Tina Peters, for example, simply will not stop violating the terms of her bond, because laws don’t apply to conservative white ladies, silly.

Actually, my latest scheme to monetize the blog is a steamy, sultry, direct-to-DVD series called Proto-Fascists Gone Wild, capturing all the sleaziest, sluttiest antics of the wad of burst rectal fistulas that make up the House Republican Conference. I figure there’s enough material for ten or twenty volumes. Per week.

Arizona’s Andy Biggs has to be considered a strong frontrunner for July’s Brownshirt of the Month, and with it, the coveted parking spot out front at Marm-a-Lago, after inserting the very white nationalist propaganda that’s inspired multiple mass shooters into a fucking CONGRESSIONAL HEARING ON GUN VIOLENCE.

Then there’s “Dr.” Ronny Jackson, still howling over Barack Obama’s lightly-administered spanking, and retreating into a traditional, Republican, masculinity-projection ritual, shrieking COME AND TAKE IT at the phantom liberals he imagines are after his guns, because he wants the entire world to know about the tolerance he’s built up to Viagra, I guess.

Meanwhile, Louie Gohmert could find no better use for his floor time than some daffy diatribe claiming months-past-their-expiration-date MAGA grifters Diamond and Silk are victims of some vast conspiracy involving…shit, who even knows? Antifa? “Big Tech?” Jade Helm veterans armed with Jewish space lasers?

Now, Louie’s clutched the Dumbest Man in Congress crown tightly for most of his career, but now, in dumbfuck twilight, he may not even be even the dullest twit in the Texas delegation, not with Chip “There’s a Second Amendment Right to Murder” Roy on the prowl. In a late-breaking follow-up, Roy has ironically proposed a total ban on Letting Jamie Raskin Point Out What an Empty-Headed Clod Chip Roy Is, which is expected to draw unanimous support from the Freedom Caucus.

Speaking of House Republicans, hot off voting against investigating Nazis in the military, they voted against marriage equality. Then, for good measure, they voted against protecting the right to contraception. Shit, when they’re the ones setting the agenda, expect them to oppose establishing a right to sanitary conditions in the reeducation camps. (Excuse me, Governor DeSantis, “civics boot camps.”)

Ok, so, an election denier, a Q disciple, and a neo-Confederate walk into a bar. Only not a bar, the Republican ticket for statewide office in Maryland. Seriously. Gubernatorial primary victor Dan Cox has been described, accurately, by a member of his own party, as a “QAnon whackjob.” Joins Mastriano, and quite probably that maniac in Arizona soon. Y’know, if you figured out some way to scientifically rank 2022 Republican candidates by level of delusion, Sarah Palin would probably come out in the saner half. Sleep tight.

Incest aficionado Rudy Giuliani has been ordered to testify in Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis’ investigation, which is good, but make you sure give clear directions, or he’ll wind up drunkenly pleading the fifth in the parking lot behind Grand Jury Pool Cleaning & Supply or some shit. 

Also, the sixteen treacherous crotchtumors who planned on sneaking into the Electoral College by the back door, wearing trench coats and fake mustaches, learned they themselves are now targets of this investigation, and of course they’re already whining about it. My advice is, “commit less treason.”

But Lindsey Graham, no doubt fearing the scenario in which cellmate Steve Bannon asserts dominance and forces him to launder all those crusty shirt layers, folded after minimal yapping, and will now comply with his own subpoena. You’re too soft for insurrection, Lindsepher; perhaps there’s an opening for some sort of Proud Boys mascot?

Bannon, by the way, was convicted of the least of his many crimes, and will indeed do time. You know you’re really scum’s scum when one Presidential pardon isn’t enough to keep you out of prison.

Surely, when one attains the dizzying, rarefied heights of loserdom that only Donald John Trump has seen, the public humiliation becomes addictive. Why else would you petulantly demand the Pulitzer board retract prizes awarded for reporting on your electoral collusion with a certain hostile foreign power? Why would you waste time, money, and energy on taking such a stupid, inevitable, pointless L, unless you’re all pervy and weird about it?

So, President Biden tested positive for Covid, and of course, he’s vaxxed and boosted, so he’s fine, not that you’d know that from the yelps of delight emanating from the Right. Pour out some of the good meth on Uncle Doug Who Took Hydroxychloroquine’s grave, I guess.

Folks, this week was actually so fucked up that the blog got away from me. When you remember tonight’s post, please imagine I made hilarious, hilarious comments about the ongoing clusterfuck at the Secret Service, the latest unhinged plots to capture and punish women with the audacity to seek bodily autonomy, and whatever else I may’ve missed.

With that, I really must crash, m’loves. Stay safe, stay hydrated, stay engaged, and above all else, stay sexxxxxy. See you next week. 

Look, Torturing Child Rape Victims Has Always Been the Whole Point of America (Ferret)

If you’ve ever read this blog before, you know the opening paragraph is always some needlessly verbose variation on “can you fucking believe how fucking crazy this shit is,” and I have never once needed to deviate from that format, because seriously, can you fucking believe how fucking crazy this shit is? If you were hoping this would be the week that ends that streak, well…DiMaggio ain’t got shit on me, alas.

(Links, colors, and wonder beyond compare await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/look-torturing-child-rape-victims-has-always-been-the-whole-point-of-america/)

Frankly, I’m surprised it took as long as it did for the inevitable post-Roe horror story, of a raped 10-year-old facing nightmarish obstacles to abortion care, to surface. Less surprising was the response by America’s right wing, which revealed both ethical deficiencies and mental health disorders at heretofore unimagined levels.

The first stage of wingnut propaganda is always denial, of course, and cries of “hoax” reverberated throughout the disturbingly effective media bubble that recently led god knows how many Americans to ingest livestock medicine. No one bothered to think that maybe the relative dearth of available information was due to entirely sensible laws protecting the anonymity of such young victims of such abominable crimes, because you have to be interested in telling the truth to do that sort of basic due diligence.

Still, when an inconveniently real arrest blew up their narrative, everyone promptly apologized, provided the definition of “apology” is “an immediate pivot to anything but contrition, ideally racist in nature.”

The shrieking heads over at Fux Nooz didn’t just feverishly spread disinformation at every opportunity, (though they remain leaders in the field) they went the extra stochastic terror mile, sharing the involved doctor’s name and face with their measurably-more-violent-all-the-damn-time audience, in case, y’know, any “disturbed loner” felt like running the ol’ George Tiller play.

So now it’s a bit of a race, between the crazed, bloodthirsty mob, and the flail-wielding, zealot state, to see who gets to administer punishment to this sinner, who dared to (checks notes) provide necessary health care to a 10-year-old rape victim. Indiana AG Todd Rokita couldn’t seem to keep himself off television, so eager was he to publicly proclaim his intention to prosecute, never mind the fact that he never bothered to check to see if the doctor followed the law, which she did. Better luck next time, Inquisitor.

See, this is what this creep has been waiting for his whole miserable life. And this is how he plans to spend every working moment, for the rest of his life: hunting down and punishing the women he’s always despised. Him and millions like him.

This whiff of theocracy, after so many years of grudging acquiescence to the principles of democracy and equality, has driven the revanchist minority into a frenzy, and they’re approaching the wide-open legal landscape like Hungry Hungry Hippos, desperate to gobble up as much power as possible while we’re still sorting out the chaos, the better to enforce their will upon a resistant public.

Because, as Montana crackpot/state Rep. Brad Tschida put it, with the eloquence of Ray Liotta in the dinner scene from Hannibal*, a woman’s womb “serves no specific purpose to her life or well-being,” so fucking OF COURSE the state is allowed to treat her like fetus tupperware. While it’s entirely clear the Founding Fathers never intended religious freedom to imply a right to pretend biological science is imaginary in order to justify the dehumanization of half the populace, it would appear Amy Coney Barrett disagrees, so here we are.

Indicted Texas AG Ken Paxton, eager to kill as many women as possible, sued the federal government, hoping to further limit access to abortion care, specifically in cases where the mother’s life is in danger. Senate Republicans blocked a bill   guaranteeing the right to cross state lines in search of non-dominionist health services. And Ted Cruz helpfully reminded us of his vindictive cabal’s eagerness to claw back even more civil rights, with Obergefell next in their greedy, regressive sights. Because they will never, ever, ever, ever, ever fucking stop.

Thanks to the Failing New York Times, the cautionary tale of Ray Epps, targeted by the very hate cult he joined, is just, y’know…sitting around, waiting for anybody who might need t’hear it. Not unlike the widely ignored Frankenstein story. In case anybody out there is still capable of, or interested in learning.

Glancing at the sign in the break room, I see America has gone zero weeks without a news outlet publishing a terrorist-sanitizing op-ed, attempting to paint the goddamn Proud Boys of all people as apple pie-spattered, Norman Rockwell-designed, teddy bear guard dogs. Written, did I mention, by a Proud Boy’s wife. Not the choice I’d’ve made; I think we’re normalizing political violence at an alarming enough rate, thanks.

Speaking of the Proud Boys, and who doesn’t a love a week with multiple headlines referencing our burgeoning Brownshirt movement, the January 6th commission showed the world that video of Roger Stone taking their loser cosplay brigade’s pathetic, white supremacist “oath.” Always fun to have members of domestic terror orgs advising Presidents. Our democracy is almost too healthy, really.

Seems like the appropriate place to bring up the feral House GOP Conference unanimously voting against an amendment to the annual defense spending bill ordering the Pentagon to investigate white supremacist/neo-Nazi activity in our military. Also, all the current and former members of that military charged with crimes committed during the Capitol Riot. And the Oath Keeper “death list.” Because training violent insurrectionists in the ways of war seems a bit, I dunno, counter to the national interest.

One of the skeevy freaks of the alt-right incite-o-sphere called for a “Red Wedding” on January 6th, and as a bit of nerd/geek/I’m-wearing-a luchador-mask-for-pity’s-sake/dork, I resent these thugs appropriating my culture. Or any culture, really; the “we created western civilization” crowd never created shit. Creating is not their thing. Hurting people is.

And Paul Ryan wept. Apparently. That’s from the Book of Spineless Enablers, 11:35. But yeah, we’re told one of the chief architects of the civilization-devouring conflagration that is the modern GOP was momentarily moved to sorrow by the completely predictable consequences of his misspent life’s vicious work. How touching.

Honestly, I was almost grateful for the crude, geopolitical slapstick of the John Bolton interlude. Ol’ Murderstache can’t get his pants on without stepping on two or three rakes, which goes a long way towards explaining his Turd Midas contributions to the flow of human history.

Well, well, well, looks like Steve Bannon may be one slug the salt shaker’s finally caught up to; his legal stall tactics have almost run out, and now leaked audio (it should be illegal to publish “leaked” and “Bannon” in the same headline, by the way) reveals the Stoopid Coo ringleaders plotted from the very beginning to Just Lie, Baby, blowing yet another cavernous hole in the “Donald Trump was but an innocent fawn, who opposed the peaceful transfer of power for unspecified but totally noble reasons” defense.

And I guess when he’s not stumbling around Marm-a-Lago, absentmindedly tampering with witnesses, the Deposed Dotard spends his days plotting the launch date for the third presidential campaign he believes will keep him out of prison. Y’know, if somebody’d just subtly place, say, a wood chipper at the bottom of the escalator this time…

So, the cornered rats of Trumpworld think they can stick Mark Meadows with the soggy cracker and slink away, huh? I mean, excellent choice; Marky Mark’s a walking confession, and he richly deserves all the comeuppance the universe can muster. And to the lingering collaborators, what can I say but…(lightly taps NYT Epps profile).

Still, the Mark Meadows Miles Over His Head in Fascist Bullshit subplot has been a personal favorite. Can you fucking believe, this overmatchedest of all possible cretins attempted to cajole a resigning staffer into sticking around, because “we're actually going to be staying.” That’s a whole lotta misguided confidence for a fellow working off a blueprint designed by Sidney “No Reasonable Person Would Believe Anyone as Batshit as Me” Powell, and Rudy Giuliani, in his How Many Four Seasons Could There Possibly Be phase.

“Dr.” Ronny Jackson, one of the very smallest of the many small men who yielded to Donald Trump’s corruption with no resistance whatsoever, whimpered that the infinitely more decent of the two Presidents he served sent him the I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed letter he’s earned ten thousand times over. Honestly, I think I’d be willing to accept a little more oppression if it meant being spared the whining.

Speaking of the institutional rot that is Donald Trump’s first and only successful endeavor, I guess the Secret Service wants us to believe their mega-suspicious deletion of texts from a certain blustery, January Wednesday was Just One of Those O-So-Normal Things™️, and, speaking as someone who was born yesterday, I’m inclined to take them at their word.

…especially after Cassidy Hutchinson’s testimony regarding Wee Donnie One-Term’s manchild meltdown got confirmed. Say, did that on-the-record refutation ever actually go down? No? Why, it’s almost like the offer was only ever designed to muddy the waters in the immediate aftermath of the most damning testimony yet regarding a criminal conspiracy perpetrated by idiots who frankly left us too much evidence to keep straight.

None of their manic tactics actually worked, which strikes your humble, bathrobed blogger as a solid reason to abandon them, for those unmoved by the whole “right and wrong” thing, anyway; but of course, “ineffective and morally repugnant” is the GOP’s policy wheelhouse, so it’s full steam ahead on electoral cheating. New York gubernatorial candidate Lee Zeldin got caught submitting 13,000 invalid, mostly photocopied signatures, in an effort to procure an extra spot on the ballot, as a third-party candidate; and then Colorado Congressthug Ken Buck got his fascist ass recorded asking a party official to straight-up submit fraudulent election results. Kinda makes you wonder how much fuckery is going undetected, huh?

Herschel Walker’s Senate campaign has been like an Advent calendar; every day, you open a tiny, perforated, cardboard door, and behind it is a fresh, new example of the ABJECT FUCKING MADNESS of the idea of electing Herschel Walker to the United States Senate. Anyway, dude’s take on air pollution put in me mind, for whatever reason, of the kid who sat next to me for most of first grade, who did not outgrow his booger-eating phase during the period of our acquaintance. Vote Warnock.

Lauren Boebert’s shrine to psychopathy, the “gun-themed” restaurant that propelled her to MAGA stardom in the first place, has closed, alas, so if you’re looking for someplace in Rifle, (yes, “Rifle”) Colorado to get hammered and bust a gut every time anybody shouts, “let’s go, Brandon,” well, there’s always the parking lot behind the laundromat, where Eddie from high school sells meth, which is doubly convenient, now that I think of it.

Now, considering the Category 5 shitstorm documented in the preceding 7,292 paragraphs, the week’s good news is as unsurprising as it is encouraging. Turns out, these loony Republican candidates are as close to broke as they deserve to be, while their Dem opponents make like Scrooge McDuck, (Beto, in particular, is making it rain) proving the American public has no intention of submitting docilely to dirtbag idiot supremacy just yet.

And that excites me. And I hope it excites you, too. And I hope it inspires folks to join the Do the Damn Work camp, because maybe there’s easier self-satisfaction to be found in the Whine About Joe Manchin camp, but the work remains either way.

With that, the sweet release of craft beer beckons, so I must leave you. Stay safe out there, my friends, and we’ll return to our regular Shower Cap time next week, same Shower Cap channel.

*Don’t look that one up if you’re squeamish, by the way.

The News, or: An Incomprehensibly Vast Sea of Buttholes, Stretching Beyond the Horizon (El Ferret)

Keeping up on current events, one winds up banging one’s head on one’s desk with some regularity, so I can’t be certain I’m not hallucinating most of this…that’d be preferable, honestly. I would like to request hallucinations of a more enjoyable nature, however. Cartoons or pornography, I’m not particular.

(Makes more sense with th’links: https://showercapblog.com/the-news-or-an-incomprehensibly-vast-sea-of-buttholes-stretching-beyond-the-horizon/)

So, in my lonesome wanderings through the wasteland called “the news,” I stumbled across a conversation in which Alex Jones suggested to Marjorie Taylor Greene that she should run for president, because she’s “smarter” than Trump, and smoke’s been pouring out of my ears ever since.

The question, “who is less intelligent, Donald John Trump, or Marjorie Taylor Greene?” is…it feels almost too big wrap your mind around. Cosmic. Unknowable.

I mean, who can forget the spectacle of that dizzy twit, babbling about disinfectant injections and ultraviolet light, expectantly waiting to be showered with gratitude and hooker piss, while the world watched Deborah Birx’s soul flee her body? That dude’s pretty fucking dumb.

But Marj’s brain resembles nothing so much as a single tapeworm, forever devouring its own ass end. This week alone, she fell for the shittiest imaginable photoshopping, yet still felt confident enough to dismiss recent mass shootings as Democrat false flag plots, based on nothing but the same voices in her head that told her Jewish space lasers cause wildfires.

It’s too close to call, folks.

I suppose the good news is, even bathsalt-garglers like Jones are looking to move on from the Deposed Dotard, thanks to the January 6th commission’s tight, sturdy work. Hey, I’ll take my silver linings where I finds ‘em. Times is hard.

Ah, but who shall inherit the death cult high priesthood, and with it, the power to command America’s burgeoning, bloodthirsty, endlessly bilkable, white grievance blob? All sorts of putrid, viscous consensus seems to be congealing around Ron DeSantis, for his culture war cruelty. “See how effectively I harness the power of the state to harm the people you despise?” he coos, and because he does so without shitting himself or tweeting slurs, he comes off like Trump But Seriously a Genius, Bro…Republican standards are what they are.   

Down in Florida, Ron-Ron’s malevolent “don’t say gay” bill just kicked in, and with it, the desired climate of fear. I confess I’m at a loss to explain what’s gained by making it unsafe for a public school teacher to display a photograph of their spouse in the classroom, beyond delighting the hateful…oh, silly me, it was right in front of me the whole time.

They have “civics boot camps” in DeSantistan now, and isn’t that a positively perky bit of branding? You can picture Snape sending Harry Potter to a civics boot camp, can’tcha?

Well, we’ve come to the “trans children fleeing Texas for their own safety” stage of American history, and y’know what, I’m starting to think the “don’t worry kid, democracy’s basically on autopilot” vibe my 7th grade civics textbook gave off was maybe a wee bit hubristic.

Republican gun laws once again ushered an angry young creep from homicidal ideation to mass slaughter with ease and accommodation you sure as shit don’t get at the post office, admittedly with an assist from the little turd’s father, who figured what his knife-collecting, violence-threatening spawn really needed was access to weapons of war. A toddler orphaned for your shitty judgment, Dad. Nice work.

Now, wingnuts hate the aftermath of a mass shooting, (this one absolutely ruined Illinois Republican gubernatorial candidate Darren Bailey’s holiday festivities) because they know their official position is so socipathically batshit that only brain-dead nutjobs can regurgitate it without shame. On the other hand, there are no kinks in the “brain-dead Republican nutjob” supply chain.

It’s like a bad improv game, where you have to deliver an indignant jeremiad based on some drunken audience member’s random suggestion. “Weed!” bellows Laura Ingraham. “Uppity broads!” sneers Tucker Carlson. There aren’t a lot of options left, frankly. Once Republicans get around to blaming mass shootings on bike lanes, watermelon Oreos, and the season of That ‘70s Show they did without Topher Grace, they will have suggested literally everything except the glaringly obvious truth.

But if you want to see the issue through the eyes of a guy who’s spent years jabbing at his brain with an ice pick, check out Scott Adams’ Twitter feed, for some deep philosophizin’ on violence, mental health, and euthanizing your own children for the good of humanity. What the living fuck, dude. We’re repossessing more than one “#1 Dad” mug this week. Jesus.

Boy, nothing exposes the all-consuming insecurity animating every single white supremacist better than a masked mediocrity march, of the type staged by…by…oh hell, one of those loser cosplay clubs…the Proud Boys? The Klan Kids? The “I’ve Built an Entire Personality Around Hating a Star Wars Movie” Gang? Really, who gives a shit?

“Ja we are the master race oh god please don’t tell my boss I was here or my mom or the girl at the Hardee’s I go to twice a week I don’t think she’s noticed the restraining order is about to expire.” ‘Course, I dunno why these creeps’re bothering with masks, considering the state of the discourse on the campaign trail.

In the Arizona gubernatorial primary, Trump-endorsed candidate Kari Lake, with the true fanatic’s audacity, proclaimed her opponent’s refusal to embrace the debunked-a-thousand-times-o‘er Big Lie “disqualifying,” even “sickening,” prompting Zombie George Orwell to slowly mouth, “damn, girl” at such a tidy bit of gaslighting.

Ol’ Donnie One-Term sure can pick ‘em. He’s also endorsed Kristina Karamo, who believes, in addition to the Big Lie, and all sorts of additional wacky, wacky shit, that abortion is a satanic child sacrifice ritual. As Michigan’s Secretary of State, Karamo would oversee elections, which maybe isn’t the best idea.

Seems Herschel Walker’s campaign staff are clear-eyed about their boss’ well-stocked buffet of shortcomings, calling him a “pathological liar,” among other, um, “criticisms,” so naturally they spend their days laboring to get him elected to the United States Senate, because you really can’t get anywhere in Republican politics anymore without enabling a manifestly unfit psychopath or two.

See, these skeevy little climbers’re aspiring Lindsey Grahams, each and every one dreaming of their glorious moment in the sun, manipulating their very own overmatched cretin, before they have their own subpoenas to defy, over their own crimes against American democracy. It’s the proto-fascist circle of life.

On the topic of Lindsepher Grahamwich, he’s still recovering in the burn ward at Walter Reed, alongside fellow “essential lapdog in Trump’s kennel” Kevin McCarthy, following release of a profile titled, “The Most Pathetic Men in America,” which you’ll enjoy, if you haven’t seen it already.

I guess Jim Comey and Andrew McCabe both, in another of those wacky coincidences that pop up from time to time under vindictive tyrants, received the same ultra-rare, ultra-intrusive, “random” IRS audit, which seems scandalous, sure, until you remember Hillary Clinton beat Vince Foster to death with a bottle of hot sauce, which she then used to season his face before eating it.

So, some asshat blew up this strange monument in Georgia, almost certainly motivated by dipshit wingnut conspiracy theories about “globalism” and “satanism,” because these days, the American experiment is mostly about figuring out how much schmuck terrorism modern society is willing to tolerate.

Again, I don’t want it to seem like I’m asking for better Nazis, but goddamn, we must have the stupidest right-wing extremists of all time. It’s a plague of dumbfucks, hopped up on talk radio and ivermectin. We’re probably about six weeks away from some Dilbert acolyte detonating a dirty bomb next to some pizza parlor’s nonexistent basement.

Adam Kinzinger’s getting to be like that guy at the office who won’t stop yakking about his boring-ass kid, only instead of meandering anecdotes about junior hockey exploits, he keeps going on and on about all the threats of violence he and his family receive. I mean, yeah, the GOP’s feral base wants you dead for daring to place country above party, WE GET IT, DUDE.

Honestly though, there’s just so goshdarn much right-wing violence to talk about these days. If you’ve got the stomach for it, here’s an article on the rise of online Christian fascist propaganda, which introduced me to the term “#ChristPilled,” and in so doing, sent a mighty shiver down my jaded, bathrobed spine. ChristPilled…yikes. Haven’t seen the last of that one.

It was certainly overdue, but the Conservative Party in Great Britain finally initiated the ritual defenestration of Boris Johnson, over his loutish incompetence and general asshattery, and I haven’t felt such anglophilic envy since I discovered the Stone Roses in college.

Ok, that’s enough for now, I don’t have the strength to get into the shit that’s happening elsewhere; suffice to say, we’re not running out of awful.

Incidentally, next week’s blog is gonna be delayed till Saturday, owing to a rare opportunity to spend my Friday doing something more fun than sifting through the turds that fall from Tucker Carlson’s mouth. Stay safe out there, friends. 

Everything is Terrible, But At Least We Can Still Laugh at Ted Cruz's Shitty, Shitty Beard (Ferrret)

Every day is a thrilling new adventure, here in th’Land of the Free slash th’Home of the Brave; you tuck yourself in at night, never knowing which of your rights the power-drunk, illegitimate SCOTUS majority will take from you next. When you wake up, you don’t feel any different; you’re pretty much the same soul inside pretty much the same body, but your personhood has been legally diminished by zealots. It’s…odd.

(I imagine this is incomprehensible at this point without the links: https://showercapblog.com/everything-is-terrible-but-at-least-we-can-still-laugh-at-ted-cruzs-shitty-shitty-beard/)

Yeah, America was rolling along nicely, until the dominionists came to town.

Lately, I keep thinking about an old line of Dubya’s: “They hate our freedoms,” remember that one? I always thought it was a weird thing to suggest, but now I understand, he was speaking from a place of deep, personal experience, as a member of one fanatical religious group speaking about another.

While one certainly expects a conservative death cult to be regressive, I suppose one can never fully grasp the extent of the regressiveness until the death cult seizes a 6-3 majority on the Supreme Court. They really, truly, madly, deeply despise our freedoms, and thus, well…they’re taking them away.

The legal theories are consistent, if batshit: if we’re not allowed to protect our children from gun violence, why should we be allowed to protect all life on Earth from climate change? All suffering is God’s will, most especially suffering inflicted by the minoritarian despot firm of Kavanaugh, Gorsuch, Roberts, Alito, Thomas, & Coney Barrett.

As we settle into our new role as an international cautionary tale, the domestic Right is responding to the new reproductive rights landscape like a cannibal gang that just devoured a meth den. They’re euphoric about all the women they get to hurt right away, sure, but they’re also already feverishly concocting grotesque new weapons for the theocracy to deploy in the campaign against female autonomy.

We’re talking about laws to prohibit women from exercising their rights in more civilized states. Laws to punish those who do. And it’s only the first week.

With the resentment-fueled Wingnut God of Hate squatting in the halls of justice, a wave of fresh attacks on LGBTQ rights is next on the agenda; Texas AG Ken Paxton is standing giddily by with an archaic anti-sodomy law he can’t fucking wait to take out for a test drive.

(Away from the headline-grabbing stuff about all the decades of progress these six unelected asshats just pissed on, Justice Thomas casually slid a Taylor Greene-worthy conspiracy theory into one of his dissents, in case anybody’s wounds were insufficiently salted.)

Oh, and to really rub the Constitution’s nose in it, the robed fuckheads also took a great, big, scary step towards eliminating liberty from their own religion, bet we haven’t heard the last of that shit. “Yeah, WE can pray wherever we want. We’ll pray with our knees on your motherfucking necks, Derek Chauvin-style.”

Because the Lauren Boeberts of the world are sick and goshdarn tired of this bullshit separation of (their) church and (our) state. They’ve got a god who says they’re allowed to push everyone else around, which is a pretty convenient god, if you ask me, but the Supreme Court just made Him Governor of California, CEO of Facebook, and People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive from now until the sun goes out.

The Professor Marvel Memorial “Pay No Attention to the Fascist Behind the Curtain” award goes to Trump-endorsed Congresscreep Mary Miller, who, as you are no doubt aware, referred to the tyrannical usurpation of Americans’ civil rights as “a victory for white life.” Yes, the same Mary Miller who initially rose to national prominence by opining “Hitler was right on one thing,” why do you ask?

Anyway, the least surprising thing that made me weep tears of rage this week (say, that could be a regular feature) was discovering the ghost of Todd Akin, still haunting the GOP, ratting his chains, and moaning about Legitimate Rape. Perhaps Yesli Vega, the Republican candidate in Virginia’s 7th congressional district, was simply failed by her sex ed teachers…but then, perhaps she’s just one more malicious idiot in a party that values malice and idiocy.

(Vega’s running to unseat the amazing Abigail Spanberger, who y’all remember from the big, beautiful, Blue Wave of ‘18. Which I bring up in case anybody out there is looking for a race to adopt.)

Anyhoo, the political movement that re-canonizes Kyle Rittenhouse every other week is desperate to spin the narrative that it is Democrats who are the Violent Ones, Actually, and many a vein popped in many a deplorable forehead, as they collectively strained to will a post-Roe “Night of Rage” into being. Reality, as is so often the case with these folks, proved unaccommodating.

Still, evidence of Democratic brutality is liberally (GET IT) strewn about us, if we’re honest. Nancy Pelosi assaulted that kid, for example, and poor Rudy Giuliani was beaten so badly his subpar son’s political career died. And let us not forget Secretary Clinton, with her predilection for noshing ‘pon the faces of infants.

Meanwhile, famed conservative ethicist Eric “Possibly the Cruelest Genetic Joke on a Stumplike Family Tree” Trump opined that street violence in service to a known lie was “fair game,” and frankly “rad as hell” and definitely “something the rubes should do more of so my shitbag dad doesn’t go to prison, because if the government takes the money, I’d last about nine minutes on my own. Seriously, I’d starve, I don’t even know how to tie my own fucking shoes.”

Oh, and “an off-duty Rhode Island cop running for state senate has been charged with assault after punching his political rival in the face at an abortion-rights protest,” or so says the lamestream media. Now, without clicking, I wonder, can you guess which political parties these two electoral adversaries have chosen for themselves? The assaulter and the assaultee? The criminal and his victim? Since we’re talking about “nights of rage” and political violence and whatnot? Betcha can.

Until further notice, the target of the Two Minutes Hate shall be former Mark Meadows aide Cassidy Hutchinson, who violated the First MAGA Commandment: Thou shalt not mention what an unhinged, ketchup-splattering manchild the Turd Emperor is, especially not under oath, in front of the entire country.

Copy editors the world over struggled, mostly in vain, to find synonyms for “explosive testimony*,” as Hutchinson, newly free of her Trump-funded “lawyer,” walked the nation through Donnie Dotard’s autocratic mid-coup meltdown, as his dream of personally leading a loser crusade to the Capitol, in order to murder his way to a second term, slipped through those tiny, inadequate fingers.

Fixated as ever on crowd size, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot tried to have metal detectors removed, hoping to give a frothing wad of known-to-be-armed thugs a Loudermilk-style tour of the building, because hey, Mike Pence wasn’t gonna lynch himself.

And maybe somebody in the rapidly-falling Turd Reich could have done something to stop this horrifying, herky-jerky fashgasm, but I guess everybody was too busy staring at their phone, or frantically digging through the sofa cushions for pardons.

Oh, and the mighty Cognitive Test-Passer may or may not have physically assaulted Secret Service agents in an attempt to commander his vehicle, so he could sit up front and watch his precious hate mob slaughter Congress in his name.

Since even the mafia-style witness tampering failed to impede delivery of this evidence, Cult45 is freaking the fuck out, and quite a few enterprising young Brownshirt Scouts are going for their Smear Campaign merit badge. The Velveeta Vulgarian himself waddled over to Newsmax for a round of stochastic terror softball, and looka here, even Q (not the fun one, the one that incites violence) returned from exile to join the dogpile.

Now, I sincerely hope I still live in a country that will permit Cassidy Hutchinson to live out her natural lifespan in safety, but…I confess I have some doubts.

Anyway.

Despite a half decade of residence in this shit-flooded zone, the sight of a former U.S. Army Lieutenant General and National Security Advisor to the President of the United States of America, pleading the fifth when asked, “so is the peaceful transfer of power for cucks, or what?” still made me projectile vomit, so I guess I’m not totally desensitized yet, that’s nice.

And I’m not alone, it would appear; more rats than usual abandoned ship this week, because if there’s one thing Americans can’t stand, it’s wasted ketchup. When even the Washington Examiner thinks you’re too crazy/shitty/reckless/stupid/did I mention shitty to ever hold power again, you know you absolutely suck.

Rudy Giuliani deflected Hutchinson’s testimony with the deftness we’ve come to expect from the guy who booked Four Seasons Total Landscaping, before returning to his day job as the MyPillow guy’s spokesdoofus.

Now, this shitstorm is so thick, you can’t see two feet in front of your face, right? There’s a lot going on, most of it’s fucking awful, and we need leaders, now more than ever. So, how’s the sheltie’s-ass-bearded junior Senator from Texas filling his time these days? I’m glad you asked; he’s picking a fight with Sesame Street over Covid vaccines, yes, another one, in yet another doomed attempt to squeeze adulation out of the very death cult that once thrilled to his public emasculation by a superior primate.

Hell, you couldn’t get above the fold in my stupid blog, Ted, and I’m a drunken weirdo in a luchador mask. Everything about you sucks as much as your beard, and you will never, ever get elected President. Where history remembers you at all, it will be as a punchline, though it must be said, a legitimately amusing one.

Ron Johnson seems to be having trouble keeping his excuses for insurrecting straight, but maybe we’re being a bit hard on the poor guy; with a brain that succumbs to every conspiracy theory that drifts across his field of vision, you can’t really expect the man to navigate the finer points of a conspiracy to overthrow the whole dang constitutional order. Whether or not such a brain should be consulted in the lawmaking process is a question for the voters of Wisconsin, I suppose.

For any future historians arguing about how the fuck the most advanced nation in human history managed to sink so far into this morass of madness, well, with Teddy and RoJo making up 2% of the upper house of our federal legislature, we never had a fucking chance. Incidentally, tell me somebody’s watching Tommy Tuberville, he can’t be left unsupervised.

Meanwhile, Vlad the Miscalculator’s war of aggression rolls on according to plan, assuming the plan involved sovereign default and NATO expansion and retreating in shame from Snake Island, (which merits a robust “Go fuck yourself,” I think) and okay, maybe it’s not going so great, but he will not rest until he’s denazified every shopping mall in Ukraine.

GRIM SHIT, INNIT? But hey, at least Ketanji Brown Jackson got sworn in, hopefully laying the foundation for the court that’ll someday overturn all this hot kakistocrat trash.

Fucking hell. That’s enough, I think. More than enough. Lordy. Okay, well, try not to get gored by a bison, though if you do get gored by a bison, I certainly hope you get better.

*Volatile evidence delivery? Nitroglycerin-like witnessery? 

I Hope Ruth Bader Ginsburg Haunts the Shit Out of These Assholes (Th'Ferret)

So, I was feeling kinda judgy about the latest cynical serving of Jurassic Product, you know, “you honestly expect me to believe they’d keep making dinosaurs after five movies’ worth of T-rex rampages” kind of stuff, but then I gave a moment’s passing thought to American society’s capacity/willingness to learn from history’s mistakes, and I didn’t feel so fancy anymore.

(Some of this stuff makes no damn sense without links, so click here: https://showercapblog.com/i-hope-ruth-bader-ginsburg-haunts-the-shit-out-of-these-assholes/)

So, a theocrat, a drunken mediocrity and an insurrectionists’ spouse walk into a bar. Excuse me, not a bar, I meant “the Supreme Court,” where the illegitimately installed operatives of a tyrannical minority continue incinerating the Constitution with their purloined blowtorch. Yeah, the evil fucks went and did it. I suppose you don’t go to all the trouble of stealing that sort of power without plans to abuse it.

Anyway, in accordance with the dictates of our dominionist overlords, all members of the gender which shall henceforth be referred to as “broodmare” must provide a permission slip, certifying completion of all domestic chores, before reading this blog, signed by a male guardian/owner. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, the most malicious zealots alive do.   

Of course, it’s not all medieval regression at the Supreme Court; while women lose rights by the bushel, guns gain new privileges every day. Yes, still dripping blood from Uvalde and Sandy Hook, they strut obscenely to and fro, squawking about how much they value the lives of children. Anyway, looking forward to 2028’s Gaetz-Greitens Act, formally enfranchising the nation’s firearms.

Oh, and more fun, American taxpayers are now obligated to fund any wingnut indoctrination camp masquerading as a “religious school.” I’m starting to understand why this ideology has trouble attracting an electoral majority.

Of course, even this radical assault on human rights and the will of the people isn’t enough for Clarence Thomas, who’s already getting new boots made for the next set of necks.

Fucking hell, and that’s just the SCOTUS beat.

The week started innocently enough, with a more-laughable-than-usual deployment of the right-wing nutjobosphere’s clunky, sputtering, faux outrage machine, in service to the, let’s call it “questionable” legal theory that a briefly detained Stephen Colbert film crew is somehow morally and legally equivalent to a certain hate-crazed mob that inflicted 140 casualties on Capitol law enforcement. And that seems silly, yes, but remember, there’s always a fifty-fifty chance Chuck Todd’ll platform your horseshit as a completely valid point of view.

But then the Republican Party of the Revanchist Shithole Called Texas had to go and make things scary. They’re not fucking around down there, folks. And can I just say, I’m honestly surprised that Texas Log Cabin Republicans thought the state GOP convention, in the summer of 2022, would be a safe space. Physically. This is not 2015. It’s not even 2020.

No, it’s Openly Menace Dan Crenshaw and His Staff in the Halls time now, folks. When DAN CRENSHAW isn’t crazy enough for your roving gang of thugs, gun control was needed yesterday.

Which brings us to John Cornyn, another fella who was lucky to get out of that Klan rally alive. Hey, looks like we’re actually going to get a new federal gun control law, how ‘bout that? And yeah, John, how ‘bout how quickly the throng turned on you? Like lightning, wasn’t it? For your grudging, meager efforts to finally, FINALLY do as little as humanly possible to stem the flow of little kids’ blood pooling on the floor of the U.S. Senate?

Outside of the bubbling undercurrent of potential street violence, and gosh, won’t that be fun to normalize, the rest of the convention was…well, equally appalling. Fealty sworn to known lies and unapologetic bigotry. Democracy is for cucks, stuff like that. Starting to get 1939 MSG vibes from GOP gatherings, which I don’t love.

Anyway, to all the Texas Republicans who suddenly understand how it feels to have your life threatened by this hate mob y’all built, (and armed, that was smart; real long-term thinkers, conservative lawmakers) you are welcome to pick up a bucket and start fighting this fire any damn day now.

Because Eric “Violent Sex Criminal” Greitens might just ride that terrifying There’s Only One Real Pro-Political Violence Candidate in This Race And His Name is Me ad all the way to Washington, even as Herschel Walker twists a life of lies and abuse into ever more and more evangelical adulation. This is, as Shakespeare so famously said, some deeply fucked-up shit.

Y’know what? Somebody in Congress should investigate this stuff, especially the way it exploded in a sloppy, premature, frankly embarrassing orgasm of loser white boy terrorism last January. Hang on, I’m receiving a note…oh right, the hearings!

Actually, Bennie and the Jets’re doing a damn fine job. They understand the assignment, and they’re weaving a concise, compelling, emotionally impactful narrative. And holy crud, it’s lookin’ more and more like they’re actually reaching some changeable minds! I thought we were just about out of those, y’know?

‘Course, all the mountains of damning, irrefutable evidence certainly didn’t hurt the cause. Hindsight is 20/20, but I admit I never appreciated the way the first 44-or-so Presidents declined the opportunity to spend the transition period pursuing increasingly outlandish schemes to cling to power. Especially considering history has more or less proven Italian satellites cost Martin Van Buren reelection.

Yes, on one level, this was a bungling wad of dumbasses, lurching haphazardly about, trying stupid, stupid shit that was never going to fucking work, but it was still quite a bit fashier than you’d like to see from the White House. Ideally. Not to seem critical or anything.

Quite a lot of eager little brownshirts in the Freedumb Caucus, too, now that I think of it…Biggs, Brooks, Greene, Jordan, Gohmert, Gosar, Perry, all groveling for pardons after their treacherous machinations collapsed…bonus audacity points to Matt “Oh, And Leave Some Blank Space So I Can Write In A Few Sex Crimes Later” Gaetz.

And Ron Johnson can pretend to be on the phone with his Canadian girlfriend all he likes, he’s still been caught red-handed participating in a conspiracy to overturn a free and fair election, but hey, at least it’s been a couple weeks since he found any wacky new Covid conspiracy theories to uncritically parrot.

Well, Jeffrey Clark finally received his overdue federal law enforcement raid, no doubt uncovering the nude Jon McNaughton portrait he had commissioned back when he believed he had the Attorney General’s salary to look forward to. Much has been made of Jeffrey’s manifest unfitness for the post, as though that wasn’t the whole reason Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot wanted him in the first place. “Sure, the resume’s a little thin, but I just find the way he goes, ‘whatever you require, Mein Führer’ endearing, don’t you?”

I guess I could spend the decades it would take to untangle the twisted ethical logic behind Rusty Bowers’ “Well, he asked me to violate my oath and my faith and tried to end democracy in America, but HECK YEAH I’d vote for him again!” stance, but fuck it, that’s Rusty’s therapist’s job. I’m tired.

Noted lynch mob target Michael Pence figured this was the appropriate week to feebly wheeze that Joe Biden is the dishonestest fellow to e’er sully the Oval with his rank untruthfulhood and lying liarpants, and Mike, my dude, while I appreciate that you still need to run face-first into this windmill a couple more times before you understand your completely obvious place in MAGA history, there is only one major political party in this country that does not actively seek your death, and I just think you should be nicer to us is all.

Because we are nowhere near done with stories of th’Base’s steadily increasing fondness for violence, and threats of violence. The hearings spent a whole day on that shit, because the Republican Party just incites that much terrorism.

So I’ll take “Recent Death Threats to United States Congressmen” for $200, Alex.

“This Iraq-veteran-slash-death-cult-apostate’s wife received an anonymous letter threatening the life of their 5-month-old child”

Who is Adam Kinzinger. Same category, $400.

“This former Presidential candidate received a homophobic death threat immediately (fucking IMMEDIATELY) after being targeted on Twitter, with debunked conspiracy theories for good measure, by Marjorie Taylor Greene”

Who is Eric Swalwell. I hope the readers don’t expect to me to take this bit any further, Alex, but I think it worked up to this point. This has been fun, we should do it again.

Apparently it’s just now occurring to Off-Brand Orbán, here in the inevitable aftermath of Kevin McCarthy’s the-fuck-were-you-thinking, Gym-Jordon-or-nuthin’ “strategy”concerning the January 6th commission, that the wannabe Speaker might be not be so great at leadering. All MAGA political operations are like that snake story, only with  “idiot” instead of “snake,” have you noticed that?

I cringed so hard my forearms snapped, watching Lindsey Graham, clearly shell-shocked by the enormity of Everything He’s Done, tremblingly praise his deposed master for…his ability to instill fear. Jeeeeeeeezus. Boot polish makers must put an addictive chemical in their shit, exactly like cigarettes, but it’s only dudes like Lindsey Graham who ever find out about it.

Yeah, Lindsepher, when a fascist gets a taste of real power, and tries to seize more, the first thing he does is, he goes looking for a few weak men. Donald Trump found you. And how lucky he was in the finding, and how unlucky the rest of us. Don’t worry, history won’t forgetcha, and someday very soon, a weaselly character actor might just win an Academy Award for playing you. I hope you live to see it. Sincerely.

The newest Republican Representative is already lying to cover up her history of spreading Q shit, and with distressing ease and comfort, I might add. Oh, and congressional candidate Jerone Davison hired Austin “Baby Q” Steinbart to run his campaign…who is “Baby Q,” you ask? Well, that is quite a tale. A tale that involves time travel, a prison sentence, and, ahem, a “synthetic penis.”  Soon, “moderate” Republicans will be the ones who just believe in Pizzagate, maybe a Jewish space laser or two, scoffing haughtily at the Lizard People Made Me Dry Hump That Mailbox Caucus.

Well, I’ve gotta head out, throw up some fencing to fend off the velociraptors that’re surely on their way. You stay safe out there. I, uh, hope nobody takes any more of your rights away.

The Law Firm of Giuliani, Eastman, & Clark: Insurrecting Incompetently Since 2020 (Ferrrrrret)

Are we absolutely certain it was heat that killed all those cows in Kansas? Did anybody check to see if any of them had, like, a Twitter account? Cellphone with a couple news apps? Because it’s been a lot lately, y’know? Just…a lot.

(Links aplenty await those who dare to click…here: https://showercapblog.com/the-law-firm-of-giuliani-eastman-clark-insurrecting-incompetently-since-2020/)

Well, the second week of the Capitol Riot hearings kicked off with the image of a shitfaced Rudy Giuliani, stumbling around on election night, leaking god knows how many bodily fluids, in search of any potential collaborators who might’ve been feelin’ a little DTI, (that’s “down to insurrect” in the parlance of the modern young person) and degenerated into primal, gibbering delirium from there.

As you’ll recall, the whole bath-salts-on-rye-toast legal theory animating the Stoopid Coo was the attempt to recast then-Vice President Pence as some sort of human Get Out of Jail Free card, or a lamp you could rub (not in front of Mother, of course) to get three treasonous wishes.

And no, that does not make a metric lick of sense, but given Donald Trump’s well-established lack of regard for human life, and a management style based on elevating whatever turd-gargling moron happens to tell him what he wants to hear, the dumbest of all possible constitutional crises was probably inevitable.

Leading the charge were the likes of John Eastman and Jeffrey Clark, subpar bureaucrat types driven to high crimes by the intoxicating prospect of ruling America forever. They fully understood what they were attempting was immoral, and illegal, and would surely lead to widespread unrest and violence, but, y’know…YOLO.

Ol’ Johnny E certainly left the digital paper trail of a man who expected to see the end of the rule of law in the United States. Lordy. How long till we learn Ginni Thomas had a few Oath Keepers over for an afternoon of cucumber sandwiches, bridge, and bomb-making?

For a man who couldn’t pass a third grade social studies test, Eastman was actually quite astute in his assessment that what John Eastman needed after weeks of sustained treachery was a presidential pardon, because hey, even a stopped clock. He didn’t get one, by the way…you gotta camp out for that shit, hoss.

On the grassroots level, plans were equally Gohmertian, as the shit-from-unusually-stupid-bats plan outlined in the Proud Boys’ “1776 Returns” document demonstrates. I’m endlessly thankful for the American fascist’s cerebral deficiencies; sometimes I wonder if our best tools for derailing dictatorship won’t ultimately prove to be unheeded warnings on hair dryers and chainsaws and whatnot.

Even with so much historic fuckery to document, the January 6th committee still made time to remind Cult45 that their cheap, grifter god pockets every dollar they donate, with nary a stray nickel set aside for the restoration of American greatness, but we’re talking about the most bilkable creatures to e’er walk the Earth; they’d only spend it on doomsday food buckets and pro-lynching t-shirts.

Georgia Congressthug Barry Loudermilk has changed his story regarding the tour of the Capitol he led last January 5th so many times, you’d think he was auditioning for a gig with the Uvalde PD. I believe the latest-but-by-no-means-last version asks us to believe the charming fellow who recorded himself threatening multiple Congressmen wasn’t conducting reconnaissance, he was merely a wall sconce aficionado. We’re not all docile death cultists, Barry.

Seditious attorney Jenna Ellis joined Doug “Nice Swing State Ya Got There, Be a Shame If Anybody Imposed Christian Nationalism On It” Mastriano’s gubernatorial campaign, and my, my, isn’t Josh Shapiro looking all handsome lately, with his well-tailored suits and lack of authoritarian tendencies?

Four opposition researchers working for Raphael Warnock’s Senate campaign died from exhaustion this week, and at press time, it is believed as many as 1 in 12 Americans may be Herschel Walker’s unclaimed children.

It must also be noted that Herschel has never been an FBI agent, or a law enforcement officer of any kind; and most of us haven’t, I suppose, but then, most of us aren’t running for federal office on a resume conjured from the self-aggrandizing daydreams of a domestic abuser. Other Walker claims, for example that he invented the spatula, and taught Tony Hawk to skate, are probably legit, though.

But yeah, the 2022 GOP primary season continues to unfold like a swarm of plague rats drowning in a Lollapalooza porta potty.

More than 100 of the Party o’ Lincoln’s nominees spout the Deposed Dotard’s debunked election lies, including candidates for the very offices tasked with overseeing elections. See, Americans’re actually totally unified in striving to learn from the mistakes of January 6th…there’s just a bit of a partisan gap on what, precisely, those mistakes were.

And if you want a fun little teaser of the world our elephantine countrymen hope to build, look no further than Otero County, New Mexico, where the elected commission/canvassing board, led by convicted Capitol Rioter/self-professed “Cowboy for Trump” Couy Griffin, refused to certify recent primary election results, just cuz. Just cuz they’re crazy people who’ve been handed a little power to abuse, and they’re testing the fences to see how much they can get away with.

Oh, and yet another QAnon adherent, Mayra Flores, has been elected to Congress, so expect Marjorie Taylor Greene’s bill banning federal funding for Jewish space lasers to pick up steam, unless the deep state intervenes.

Flores will fit right in with caucusmate Greg Steube, who is apparently caveman-at-a-flume-park-level stupefied by the tricksy images on the magic talking television box, and wouldn’t it be neat if our elected leaders were better at discerning reality than house cats?

Lord knows, reality is hard on a wingnut, whether he’s dying on a ventilator despite a bellyful of ivermectin, or throwing an unhinged, juvenile, misogynistic, career-ending shitfit in a Wisconsin courtroom, defending the Big Lie. Not just their policies, but their delusions must be granted supremacy now, you see.

I know the Constitution doesn’t explicitly guarantee liberty from the tyranny of the imaginary, but that’s only because the Founding Fathers failed to adequately grasp the bottom limits of human intelligence. If you’re feeling up for a peek into the mouth of madness, check out WaPo’s profile of a woman who calls herself “Burnitdown,” a diehard MAGA drone who has, for years, dutifully poured every proffered drop of poison into her skull, until her brain was functionally pickled. And now she’s active in local politics. Sleep tight.

Speaking of conservative activists, 31 of the sorriest specimens of what passes for manhood on the alt-right helpfully bundled their subpar asses together in the back of a U-Haul, so law enforcement could arrest them all together, before they could execute their planned attack on a Pride parade in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.

And though this latest white supremacist terror plot (my punch card filled up again, remind me to redeem my free slushee) occurred in the middle of an incessant barrage of anti-LGBTQ fear-mongering by prominent Republicans ranging from Ron DeSantis to Ken Paxton to the screeching heads of Fux Nooz, it’s unfair to draw the obvious conclusion, because CANCELCULTURELAMESTREAMMEDIACRITICALRACETHEORY, and you can’t deny the logic in that.

Golly, the Children of the Candy Corn must’ve busted out the good meth, such were their wild, triumphal writhings at the news that Anthony Fauci tested positive for Covid. I guess when JFK Jr. keeps no-showing your resurrection parties, you learn to settle.

Meanwhile, DeSantis, in an act of almost incomprehensible madness and malice, made his government an unnecessary obstacle between parents and the life-saving coronavirus vaccine, now that it’s finally been approved for use in young children. Death cult politics sure get wacky, huh? “Fuck your kids’ health, Daddy’s got brainwashed imbeciles to pander to!”

Montana Governor Greg Gianforte pulled a Cancun Cruz, and left the miserable plebs, excuse me, “his constituents” to rot during a flooding crisis, while he vacationed abroad, no doubt in search of exotic new journalists to assault. Republicans have a thousand ways to tell their voters, “I do not care if you live or die screaming,” but of course, said voters are famous for their feces-clogged ear canals.

Alas and alack, the official pillow of sedition will no longer be available for purchase on the shelves of your local Walmart, but on the bright side, watching Mike Lindell melt down hasn’t gotten old yet.

Well, I imagine everyone’s barf bag is more or less full by now, so I’ll sign off here. Stay safe out there, m‘loves. Like the old folk saying goes, “may no U-Hauls stuffed with armed white nationalists cross your path.” 

Maybe The Real Capitol Riot Is The Friends We Made Along the Way (Ferret)

I know I can’t be the only one out there who keeps the Hamilton cast recording on in the car, just as I’m surely not the only one who shouts “oh go fuck yourself” every time they get to the part that goes “look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now.” Read the goddamn room, Hamilton.

(It all makes more sense with links, promise: https://showercapblog.com/maybe-the-real-capitol-riot-is-the-friends-we-made-along-the-way/)

There must be some kind of unofficial competition between Republican officeholders, to see who can indignantly shriek the nuttiest gobbledygook in the wake of a school shooting. And like, I grok that Republicans instinctually, unquestioningly circle the wagons around any proffered talking point, however ridiculous, (the Kochs train ‘em well) but all this sputtering, fake outrage about the unforgivably bounteous number of doors threatening our children's safety…how do you get through that shit without giggling, or, y’know, melting into a puddle of shame?

For that matter, how many pens do you have shove up your fucking nose before suggesting the problem isn’t guns, but smartphones? Do they not have smartphones in Europe, Congressman?

But the trophy (a bronzed urinal, surely, overflowing with ivermectin and hooker piss) goes to Wisconsin’s official State Idiot: Ron Johnson, who I’m certain would lose a spelling bee to a yak. “Why are we even talking about gun control when the true mass-murderer of innocent children is HUNTER BIDEN’S LAPTOP DERP DERPY DERP”  To even allow such a preposterous thought to congeal, let alone to express it, in front of recording devices…if dumbfuckery is an art form, RoJo is its Picasso.

Another giant in that field would be Louie Gohmert, who actually went on television to lament, “If you're a Republican, you can't even lie to Congress or lie to an FBI agent or they're coming after you,” in the latest of ten thousand headlines I initially dismissed as satire. Nobody ever got rich overestimating Louie’s intellect, Cap.

Sure, there’s a certain schadenfreude to the spectacle of treacherous crotchfungus Mo Brooks’ feverish groveling to procure an un-un-endorsement from his moth-chewed loser god, but it kinda gives me the embarrassment shivers, and anyway, boot-licking isn’t what I’d call an admirable leadership trait in the best of times, but in this era of ascendant fascism, well…

Have you seen the skeevy little freak Wee Donnie One-Term hitched his wagon to in the Arizona Senate race? Blake Masters burst onto the national scene this week with a barrage of batshit conspiracy theories and unapologetic bigotry, so you know Cult45’s gonna love him, and I’m suddenly much more interested in Mark Kelly’s reelection campaign, aren’t you?

By the way, a new poll shows nearly 7 in 10 members of the Party o’ Personal Responsibility™️ have found solace from their shortcomings in the pathetic, racist lie known as “great replacement theory,” quite possibly because of the politicians and pundits who pour it down their willing throats 24/7.

(At the risk of escalating partisan tensions, lemme address the tiki torch crowd real quick: kids, replacing you is actually a highly rational act. Look at yourselves. You suck. You absolutely fucking suck. It’s not some zany coincidence that domestic terror organizations recruit from the same pool of angry, weak-minded losers that make up the ISISes of the world, y’know.)

Speaking of, seems our old friend Marjorie Taylor Guam hired pedophilia apologist Milo Yiannopoulos as an intern, so you know that office water cooler is set to become the spot for trendy young Washington fascists to see and be seen. Anyway, yeah, Nazis congregating on the staff of a U.S. Representative, that’s probably suboptimal.

And while we’re on that distressingly specific topic, a Republican candidate for the United States Congress got caught straight up praising Hitler, and with a lead-in like that, I bet you think this paragraph couldn’t get too terribly much darker. Oh, my sweet, summer child. Y’see, Carl Paladino, manifestly unfit for office even before we heard him refer to Adolf Hitler as “the kind of leader we need today” on account of how “inspirational” he was, boasts the endorsement of one Elise Stefanik, the fashiest lil’ climber you ever did see, and the House GOP’s third-ranking leader.

We’ve normalized some pretty freaky shit in this country over the past half-decade or so, but I feel like cutting the guy who goes, “What we need is a Hitler!” loose shouldn’t be a particularly hard call. Now, it seems fairly obvious that anyone who fails to clear that low, low moral hurdle shouldn’t get a seat at the table where laws get made, but I bet saying so counts as “critical race theory,” so I expect Ron DeSantis’ shock troops to break down my door any minute now.

Meanwhile, Michigan Republican gubernatorial candidate Ryan Kelley got arrested by the FBI for misdemeanors committed at the Capitol Riot. And yeah, it feels like low-hanging fruit to jocularly insinuate these charges will lead to a surge in the polls and the endorsement of the 45th President of the United States, but it also feels like a headline we’ll see before next Wednesday.

Wouldn’t it be cool to live in a country where this shit was disqualifying? The racist, violence-inciting conspiracy theories, and the criminal assaults on our fundamental democratic rights? Where a psychopath like Doug Mastriano gets laughed out of the building, instead of winning his primary?

Is this a bad time to bring up the political assassination in Wisconsin? Or do we only have time for the above-the-fold domestic terrorist violence this week?

Yeah, let’s move on to January 6th, since Bennie Thompson and friends finally began unveiling their VH1-style Behind the Insurrection doc.

Or, if you’d prefer to remain snug in a propaganda bubble where the Big Lie reigns unchallenged and horse dewormer cures all ailments, I’m sure there’s still plenty of room up Tucker Carlson’s ass.

Heck, you didn’t think the leechlike Murdoch clan went to all the trouble of radicalizing millions just to relinquish control of the narrative after one teensy-weensy death cult uprising, didja? Still, taking Liar Tuck’s White Power Hour commercial-free for the evening, lest the drones accidentally stumble across reality whilst seeking refuge from the monotony of MyPillow ads? Zombie Orwell tips a rotting cap to such sinister eye for detail.

Also, Off-Brand Orbán’s free speech mosh pit, “Truth Social,” can’t seem to stop censoring posts about the hearings, while simultaneously platforming his desperate deluge of disinformation, and who, I ask, in my best Newhartian deadpan, could have predicted such ethical inconsistency from a Devin Nunes venture?

‘Course, if I’d cravenly compromised away as much integrity and decency as the modern American Right, I’d live in mortal terror of mirrors, too. It must be damn near impossible to stand the sight of yourself, when you’ve the done the things that, say, Mark Meadows has done.

The simple, unavoidable truth is, these feebleminded asshats pulled a metric fuckton of insane, criminal, utterly immoral shit, in a concerted if deranged effort to end American democracy, and seize power for themselves in perpetuity. And I just think that sort of thing ought to be discouraged is all.

Supreme Court Justices’ wives should not be pressuring 29 state-level lawmakers to thwart the electorate’s will, for example. And if your cause is truly just n’ pure, there shouldn’t be any need to plot in “complete secrecy,” surely. By the time folks start spitballing about hiring armed “contractors” to seize voting equipment, I feel as though one’s moral compass should be fully anthropomorphized and screaming at you to get your shit together.

But no, you not only stayed aboard the crazy train, you offered the goddamn Proud Boys and Oath Keepers a ride, and they did what bloodthirsty neo-fascist thugs do when handed a permission structure and institutional cover: they tried to take what they wanted by force. Which was the plan all along, hence the seditious conspiracy indictments cluttering up the joint lately.

Y’all built a lynch mob that waged war on Capitol law enforcement, with officers “slipping in people’s blood” defending your collaborating asses, and after a brief, frantic scramble for pardons, you once again absolved yourselves of any wrongdoing, and went straight back to work inciting the next murderous maniac, and the next one and the next one and the next one. God damn you one and all.

Ron DeSantis may not be particularly interested in keeping his constituents alive, but he always keeps an eye out for a new front to open in his vindictively regressive culture war, as he seeks to claim the White House on behalf of the fearful and mediocre. The Tampa Bay Rays, the Special Olympics, parents who love their children…there’s plenty of room on Ron-Ron’s enemies list, and heaven knows his supporters have more than enough hatred to go ‘round.

Oh, incidentally, DeSantis’ casually anti-Semitic press secretary, Christina Pushaw, got caught working illegally as a good, old-fashioned, Manafort-style, unregistered agent of a foreign autocrat. America first tho.

With his dreams of epic conquest largely dashed, Vlad the Miscalculator has settled into a reduced set of goals more befitting one of his petty thug stature; he’s basically just a dolphin-killing grain smuggler now, and I bet his mom sure is proud.

And while headlines reading Yup It’s Still Hell on Earth Over There test the limits of our battered collective attention span, we can’t forget about the folks defending freedom on the front lines of this worldwide madness outbreak, because they’re fighting for you and me, too. Apathy is the tyrant’s BFF, you know; they go to brunch together and drink mimosas and gossip about all the people they’d like to throw into camps.

So rest up, Resisters, looks like there may be a bit of work ahead of us. I myself am juuuuust about ready to fall into the waiting arms of a six pack of Boulevard and The Boys From Brazil, because I’m in the mood to watch a few Nazis get fucked up, for some reason. Stay safe, m’loves. 

The Peach Tree Dish of Liberty Must Be Refreshed From Time to Time With the Ravings of Idiots

Scanning through the week’s insanity, I’m overwhelmed with unanswerable questions. Why do we live like this? Does it truly have to be this way? And wait, does this mean John Hinckley’s room is available? Because I could use the peace and quiet.

(I promise this makes more sense with all the links, available here: https://showercapblog.com/the-peach-tree-dish-of-liberty-must-be-refreshed-from-time-to-time-with-the-ravings-of-idiots/)

Can you believe it’s already been 100 days of shirtless rodeo clown savagery in Ukraine? What do you even get a genocidal dipshit for the anniversary of his biggest fuckup? I’d suggest a war crimes trial, but maybe a gift card? To one of the hundreds of companies he chased out of Russia with his mad thirst for blood?

Here at home, you could hardly sleep for the howling lamentations of Cult45, when their sad, cut-rate, diet, caffeine-free-with-extra-carcinogens Bob Mueller turned out to be exactly as incompetent as every other subpar creep they worship. Having faceplanted so pathetically in his frivolous prosecution of Some Guy Nobody’s Heard Of, what hope remains, I ask you, that John Durham is capable of bringing Hillary Clinton to justice for all the baby faces she’s noshed upon?

And the Michael Flynn unmasking kerfuffle fizzled out, too, so there’s definitely no joy in Wingnut Mudville tonight. I almost feel bad, but when your dominant personality trait is “easily deceived,” you have to expect this sort of thing.

Meanwhile, legal difficulties keep mounting for Turd Reich figures like Jared Kushner and Peter Navarro, further evidence of the American justice system’s unfair bias against prosecuting imaginary crimes in favor of real ones.

In defiance of all odds, I have somehow not yet lost my life in one of the 230-and-counting mass shootings that have taken place in the United States in 2022, but the day is young, I suppose. Before this paragraph ends, seven of you out there reading this will perish in some hail of AR-15 fire or other. Condolences to your loved ones.

(In addition, by the time any survivors arrive at this sentence, police officials in Uvalde, TX, will have changed their self-exonerating bullshit story no fewer than nineteen additional times.)

Because Oklahoma Republicans, in their wisdom, made it illegal to inconvenience a homicidal maniac in the slightest way, one of the nation’s many shitbag losers was once again able to procure a machine designed to expediently slaughter as many human beings as possible, and around three hours later, he used it to shoot up a hospital.

“Say, I’m looking to murder my doctor, and everyone who happens to be near my doctor, ideally before my current fit of rage subsides. Got anything for that?”

“But of course, sir! I’d offer to wrap it, but it’s clear you’re in a hurry!”

Of course, no amount of senseless suffering will force those responsible for the nation’s surge in child funerals to abandon their fanaticism. In fact, considering the predilection for insider trading in Yertle’s caucus of sociopaths, I’d hardly be surprised to learn that, say, Richard Burr held a substantial stake in some kiddie coffin manufacturer.

Given their commitment to doing absolutely fucking nothing to stop these preventable tragedies, you’d think Republicans would be swimming in free time, (in addition to the blood, of course) but the pious, theatrical gaslighting required to keep a white resentment cult in a state of perpetual sputtering rage is surprisingly labor-intensive.

It’s not that any of the indignant gibberish needs to make sense; quite the contrary, logic is filthy elitism you cuck; it’s just that fresh nonsense must constantly be generated, as each new atrocity further exposes the bloody, lunatic sham of right wing gun policy.

And Uvalde completely obliterated the myth of the Good Guy With His Holy Gun, as surely as if Jesus came back just to taint-punt Wayne LaPierre into the sun. There’s no cover left, just a pack of hyperventilating nutjobs who would happily send ten million children to early graves rather than surrender a single bullet.

So they pile their indecency onto shoulders already burdened with grief; their predictably foul shrieking about false flags, the demented decrepitude of their attempts to blame abortion or weed or oh let’s say Moe, and above all else, their unshakable resolve to guaran-damn-tee this shit happens again and again and again.

Ignored in all their wild-eyed plans to force children to crawl into classrooms via pet doors, each guarded by an entire platoon, is the helpful example set by the non-batshit, civilized world, where GUN CONTROL FUCKING WORKS.

Ah well, you can lead a Republican to reality, but you can’t make him…waitasec, what am I saying? You categorically cannot lead a Republican to reality, he’ll die with ivermectin dribbling down his chin first.

You sort of want some revered television journalist to sit Marjorie Taylor Greene down, in some overdecorated room, and have her walk us, slowly and in great detail, through the no doubt complex workings of the “peach tree dish.” How, precisely, does Bill Gates turn the peach trees into fake meat? What is the role of the dish in this process? Can it be any dish, or does it have to be one a colony of flesh-eating bacteria used to gain access to your cranium? People have a right to know this shit.

Especially since Marj used the extra attention generated by this latest episode of Lookit This Idiot to proffer her views on the issues of the day, such as, “Christian nationalism is rad, actually, and also, disagreeing with me makes you a terrorist,” for example.

…and Kevin McCarthy can’t wait to get this fascist twit back onto her congressional committees, which goes a long way towards explaining how he finds himself the subject of articles asking why more people don’t openly discuss his deficient intellect. (I confess, I assumed everyone did. And more or less constantly.)

Well, J.D. Vance and Paul Gosar are coming for your porno, ya filthy preverts, and don’t they seem like a pair of sexually healthy humans who should definitely be in charge of what people are allowed to wank to? You know Gosar uses some Cronenbergian apparatus involving terrifying, orifice-specific dentistry tools, and of course J.D. requires lubricant aid, in the form of his own tears, shed whilst contemplating the tattered, shit-stained remnants of his soul.

Good gravy, you know you’re emitting trench-warfare-level, banned-under-the-Geneva-Conventions loserstink when Herschel Walker, with his distressingly radical platform matched by a disturbing personal history of abuse, distances himself from your pathetic grifter ass.

Are we 100% sure Doug Mastriano is real, and not, like, six MAGA hats in a trench coat? He’s a busy little beaver either way, complying with investigations into his insurrectionist shenanigans by both the FBI and the January 6th committee, yet still making time to spout the craziest goddamn shit you will ever hear in your fucking life.

For example: Doug’s not a Nazi for working day and night to remove your constitutional right to elect non-Doug candidates, but you're a Nazi for wanting to keep your children alive. What a nifty little trick that is!

Now, Dougie certainly seems like the sort of fellow who knows his way around a peach tree dish, but if it sounds like he wants to take away a bunch of your rights, that’s only because he does! But don’t worry, God sent him!  

You know, I don’t think a governorship is such a good fit for this guy. Given the Mastriano: For a Post-Democracy Pennsylvania! theme dominating his campaign. Nope, not the sort of fellow you’d want running such an enormous swing state, ideally. May I respectfully recommend Josh Shapiro?

I suppose it’s only natural for a vindictive, regressive minority to target the machinery of democracy; it’s much harder to steal folks’ rights when they possess the power to replace you with someone who won’t.

And they’re really going for it, friends. There’s an organized effort underway to seize control of the nation’s election infrastructure in order to smash it to bits with bats and tire irons. That’s Bannonism, and if that happens to hit your ear as faintly rhyming with “rash schism,” well, I’m sure it’s just a trick of the wind.

Mastriano’s a big part of the movement. So’s Rayla Campbell, a maniac seeking the powers of the Massachusetts secretary of state’s office because she thinks Kindergarten teachers have taken to spicing up the ABC’s with fellatio tricks n’ tips from Cosmopolitan.

And yes, the Deposed Dotard’s Big Lie brigade got whooped in Georgia last week, and yes, that’s fantastic, but the primaries are a long way from over, campers.

And if this is all somehow too subtle for anyone, if anybody out there is still in denial about how many stanzas deep we are in that First They Came For poem, here’s a little article, which attracted distressingly little attention if you ask me, about the proto-Brownshirt Proud Boys infiltrating the Republican Party of Miami-Dade County. Why yes, the same Proud Boys that keep pleading guilty to great big felonies committed during the Capitol Riot, why do you ask?

Oh look, Michael Avenatti is going to prison, that’s welcome news, though I must take this moment to remind everyone that I called dibs on Hinckley’s cell.

Surely somewhere there’s a hole deep and dark enough that none of this insanity could reach me, but until I find it, I suppose I shall have to make do with a beer or six. Well, congratulations to everyone who made it all the way to the bottom without getting shot by a teenager! Keep your head down and maybe we’ll all be around to do this again next week*!

*No promises.
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