TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalRacist Rapist's Ape Feint Takes Shape (Ferret!)
America passed the “measles outbreak in the children’s concentration camp” milestone this week, but the President definitely didn’t shit his pants. Whatever you may think of the despotism or the inflation or the raw, racist hate, he did not shit his pants.
(O the links! O the colors! https://showercapblog.com/racist-rapists-ape-feint-takes-shape/)
He was actually the one Republican anywhere in the country who didn’t soil themselves after Democrat Taylor Rehmet won that special election in a Texas state Senate district that voted Dotard by a profoundly embarrassing 17 points in 2024.
Can’t say I was surprised to see a 31-point red state swing trigger the wannabe autocrat’s cornered rat instincts. He says he wants to nationalize our elections, “take over the voting,” probably count the ballots personally by hand, which’d be hard enough with those stunted baby fingers but next to impossible with a full diaper.
I don’t know why I brought that up, as he did not shit himself this week.
Still, Bannon imagines elite ICE Nursekiller Squadrons patrolling polling places this November, which, I’ll agree, is absolutely what it’d take to stave off the blue tsunami heading his way.
Have you ever been so excited to vote in your life? Why, I’ve asked Ma to sew me a special Referendum on Kakisto-Fascism dress, with a bright red bow and a gas mask just in case.
Anyway, in some setting other than idly scrolling while Susie Wiles powdered his bum during his nightly changing, the Offal in the Oval posted a video racist enough to prompt even Tim Scott to retrieve his atrophied spine from the local pawn shop.
“How uncharacteristically racist of you, sir,” wheezed what passed for the bravest handful of the GOP’s domesticated legislator class. “Please do not target my loved ones for a lifetime of harassment for saying so. Perhaps there are a few remaining powers we could cede to you?”
Of course, the one true currency in the age of a dying megalomaniac is “shit he can rename after himself,” ideally at or around the monument level. He told Chuck Schumer he’d unfreeze the billions in infrastructure funding he’s illegally withholding from the Gateway Tunnel Project in exchange for desecrating Penn Station and Dulles Airport with his sad, flaccid brand. (Rumors that he responded to Schumer’s rejection by shitting himself are just that — rumors.)
I suppose with an essential transportation hub, you’re less likely to need to shut the joint down because no one wants to even enter a building you slapped your filthy name on. Sure didn’t take long for Turd Midas to work his magic on the Kennedy Center, huh? Now we wait and see if he tears it down for materials to build his Big Dumb Arch.
Y’know, I keep hearing we’re in a culture war, but if so, it’s against Lilliputians without the sense to tie us down while we sleep.
Like, I see Kid Rock has been tapped to deliver the Republican rebuttal to the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Yes, the guy who has been a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence for so long that it feels lazy to use him as a punchline about MAGA’s cultural impotence.
When you heard there was gonna be a TPUSA Counter-Halftime for Muricans Who Dislike Browns, you went to post a joke about how they’d probably get Kid Rock, but you stopped yourself because everybody’s gonna post a Kid Rock joke, and you pushed yourself to find something about maybe Scott Baio’s new cover band that performs only Hitlerjugend anthems, but then they actually couldn’t do better than Kid Rock.
Now, the other big MAGA culture war gambit involves dragging a statue of Christopher Columbus out of the harbor in Baltimore, where protesters dumped it during the George Floyd protests, to display near the White House. It is my understanding that I am to be “triggered” by this action. I’ll…do my best.
Anyway, Kid Kankles wonders what’s the point of weaponizing the Justice Department if none of your persecutors, excuse me, “prosecutors,” can shoot straight? Sorry, dork. Hazards of kakistocracy. Oh, you’re just now figuring out that Ed Martin is part of the problem? Maybe y’all can pressure Harvard into offering Remedial Tyranny.
Under Gruppenführer Homan, ICE has endeavored to violate our fundamental civil rights in a slightly less attention-grabbing manner. It’s easier somehow to get away with setting up checkpoints and terrorizing children when you’re not gunning white people down in the streets.
Working as a lawyer for the masked, unaccountable secret police force apparently “sucks” owing to the sheer volume of the laws they break. Perhaps the next wave of recruitment ads could target white nationalist bureaucrats somehow?
A $500 million bribe lobbed into one of the Trump family cryptocurrency buckets dotting the White House lawn earned the United Arab Emirates access to America’s most advanced AI chips, though no portion of that bribe was paid in adult diapers, whatever you may’ve heard.
The regime released another batch of the Epstein files, though of course censoring the nude photos and redacting victims’ names first proved too complex a task. Maybe DHS can offer a series of intensive boot camps where MAGA’s best and brightest can learn how to read and use a black marker.
Today in Unhelpfully Feeding a Narcissist’s Ego, some crypto douches hit upon the frankly banal idea of building a gilded, $300,000, 15-foot-tall statue of Jeffrey Epstein’s favorite wonderful secret sharer, because it’s been over a year since anybody went broke kissing that particular ass, which, again, did not void itself into his pants during that press conference.
Nancy Mace faced calls from former staffers to swap electoral politics for desperately needed therapy, but I’m sure she alleviated any concerns by launching into a series of easily disproven lies about her drinking habits.
So I guess Tulsi Gabbard is such a threat to national security that even the whistleblower complaints against her are classified at the highest levels. I suppose loyalty isn’t a particularly important quality when your job is undermining your own nation’s elections.
Jeff Bezos decided he wanted to be remembered as the free American press’ greatest betrayer, so I bet his mom’s real proud. “My boy became one of the richest people of all time, forcing himself onto history’s stage through sheer will, at which point he revealed himself to all the world as, at his deepest core, a bag of moldy dicks.”
Keeping with the subject, Elon Musk’s latest contribution to humanity is an AI chatbot that generates ever more deviant child pornography for his carefully cultivated social media audience of white supremacist megacreeps, and I think Democrats should shut the government down until he’s deported straight to CECOT.
The Reich’s Ambassador to Poland decided to jeopardize relations with one of our strongest allies because a single legislator said Trump “does not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize.” Future generations will wonder how an entire political party fit up a single rapist’s ass.
“They ALL lived up there, Grandpa? The whole time? While he was tanking the economy an’ mocking prayer at the Prayer Breakfast an’ everything?”
They sure did, Timmy.
But he didn’t shit his pants.
Pinky swear.
Hey, did everybody who pledged to the Kickstarter get their digital copy of the latest comic book? I’d love to hear what you think! Tell me in the comments, or @john_luzar. Perhaps you were so moved you’d like to buy me a beer? GOOD NEWS: you can, via PayPal, Venmo, or Cash App!
Okay, I’m spent. Stay safe out there. Don’t shit your pants.
Don't Let the Pet Door Hit You on the Way Out, Greg (Ferret/Shower Cap)
I’ll try to make this quick since I know you’re reading this in line between showings of the Melania movie.
(Links await: https://showercapblog.com/dont-let-the-pet-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out-greg/)
Stephen Miller was so excited, he treated himself to an extra vole. After all the years of creeping authoritarianism, it was time at last to lunge. A small army of Glad Lads n’ Oath Loaders roamed the streets of Minneapolis in masks, picking fights the way only a paramilitary gang promised total immunity can.
“If you raise your voice, I will erase your voice,” proffered one of the warrior poets of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Seems like we may’ve wandered a bit from the path of “Give me liberty or give me death,” but don’t ask me, I’m just a frog sitting in a pot of room-temperature wate-HEY WAIT A MINUTE!
The Reich, comprised as it is of the dumbest of all possible motherfuckers, truly believed their siege turned the whole dang news cycle into one long, super effective infomercial for their planned police state.
“Once the public has learned to tremble at Antifa’s fearsome war cry (‘I’m not mad at you,’ shudder), they’ll beg for ICE garrisons in every hometown!”
But a funny thing happened on the way to the Reichstag fire. Far from being greeted as liberators, the likes of Trump, Miller, and Noem found themselves immortalized in song as tyrants by no less a laureate than Bruce Springsteen.
Yeah, it took America fifty or sixty stanzas, but we got there. “Okay, so I said nothing about the Kurds or the Haitians or the Somalis or the Ukrainians, but when they came for the ICU nurses, I had to admit certain patterns had grown difficult to ignore.”
Polling got so bad so fast that Greggie Bovino was deemed the Littlest Scapegoat and sent to a farm upstate, where he’ll have plenty of room to march around in his coat.
Attempts to demonize one victim caused President Dotard to casually betray core gun nut dogma, but the Cold Dead Handz crowd could barely muster a handful of scattered, disapproving yaps, because the right to lick a rapist game show host’s boots till they shine like glass SHALL NOT BE INFRINGED.
Hard to understand where it all went wrong, but somehow, between tear-gassing little kids and using them as bait plus abusing and detaining countless legal immigrants and even citizens to say nothing of gunning peaceful protesters down in the street and slandering them as terrorists, ICE wound up the boogeyman even in Republicans’ own fundraising emails.
Soon the halls of DHS were painted with the flung fecal matter of kakisto-fascism’s assorted bickering factions. Kristi Noem was just following orders, you see, and mostly from stylists. When Tom Homan emerges as the least of available evils, you’re not exactly in the running for the cover of Healthy Democracies Monthly. (I’m told the upcoming Mark Carney centerfold is borderline filthy, however.)
Time to bring the temperature down a bit. Listen to the people. Deescalate.
…or I suppose arresting a bunch of journalists and storming the Ecuadorian consulate is another option, sure.
As usual, they had to elbow past numerous career DOJ prosecutors to find somebody ethically challenged enough to pursue the Don Lemon “case,” presumably Lindsey Halligan with a fake mustache and monocle.
Incidentally, just because Tulsi Gabbard doesn’t officially work with the FBI doesn’t mean she can’t tag along on their shady raid of that elections center in Fulton County, Georgia. Under weaponized law enforcement, stooges are fungible, you see.
Gotta rewrite history just how the dying megalomaniac wants it before he orders the entire hemisphere embalmed and entombed to serve him in the afterlife.
Flustered in his Greenlandic fantasies, he’s taking a flaccid swipe at…wait, this can’t be right…partnering with Albertan separatists? Another foreign policy gambit that reads like a rejected Team America: World Police sequel. I have no idea what Albertan separatists have to be mad about, but I bet it’s dumb.
He’s also trying to sneak ten billion taxpayer dollars out the front door via a lawsuit targeting the I.R.S. and the Treasury Department, while Secretary Bessent pimps “Trump Accounts” as an alternative to holiday gift-giving, because even two dolls is capitalist decadence when you think about it.
While forgetting the word for Alzheimer’s doesn’t technically constitute failing a cognitive test, maybe the White House press corps should start showing up prepared with a few flash cards with drawings of barnyard animals.
Because Albertan separatists? Fuck you.
I see some specimen of MAGA masculinity calling itself Anthony James Kazmierczak decided to douse Ilhan Omar with a syringeful of salad dressing, which’ll impress everybody in prison a whole bunch, I bet.
We have enough for a calendar by now, surely. The hammer guy and the nail gun guy and Kyle Rittenhouse, blubbering coquettishly on a witness stand. Get some of that Botox bubblin’ down at Mar-a-Lago.
No, I don’t think the twerp who punched Maxwell Frost deserves a slot. It’s a competitive field, and if you can’t even pull off the most memorable assault on a sitting U.S. Representative in a given week, y’know, leave a headshot, and we’ll get back to you when we’re ready to make the leap to page-a-day.
Where so many see a constitutional crisis, Nicki Minaj sees a branding opportunity, reinventing herself as the Official Rapper of Shooting Moms, Making Groceries More Expensive, and Threatening Wars of Aggression with Denmark. She’ll have her pick of dates at the Kennedy Center anyway.
Enjoy your new friends, Nicki! They think you’re the WAP girl, but definitely not because you all look alike to them!
You can learn all about them in this latest wave of Epstein files. Couple stories in there you might want to brush up on before holding hands, actually.
In conclusion, I do not like ascendant American fascism. I do not like it, Sam-I-Ashism.
Okay. Well, I’m off to seek what solace the local beer dispensary can offer. I sure won’t be mad at anybody who drops a buck or two in the tip jar via Venmo, PayPal, or even Cash App.
Hey, IF YOU BACKED THE LATEST COMIC BOOK KICKSTARTER, your DIGITAL COPIES are now available! Check the latest updates! I’m juuuuuuust about to close late pledges, because GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE #2 is on its way!
As always, sign up on the email list and follow @john_luzar. I’m thinking of upgrading my traditional “stay safe out there” signoff to something like “don’t get killed by fascists.” We’ll workshop it.
So, Mad King, Huh? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, the (First?) Greenland War was as needlessly destabilizing as it was unendurably embarrassing, but at least we lost.
I’ve never been so happy to see TACO Trump. TACO Trump is the best Trump by miles.
(That said, links n’ such await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/so-mad-king-huh/)
Drunk with Blood and Power, Convinced Regime Change is Fun n’ E-Z Trump has not been my favorite stop on this particular narcissist’s mental decline.
Regardless, our pants-shitting manchild president sent a threatening letter to the Prime Minister of Norway. AS YOU HAVE FAILED TO HONOR ME AS A MAN OF PEACE, NOW YOU SHALL FIND ME A MAN OF WAR, he furiously mashed out with those stunted baby hands.
(If you’re just waking up from a Rip Van Winkler, we’re toying with the idea of invading a NATO ally, to conquer Greenland, and thus avenge Dear Leader’s Nobel snub. The Peace Prize War. Who writes this shit?)
Then came the tariff threats, naturally. They sure do enjoy threatening folks, have you noticed that? That’s a healthy leadership quality, right? GIMMIE GREENLAND OR I TARIFF YA. JOIN THE FAKE ALTERNATE UNITED NATIONS I JUST MADE UP OR I TARIFF YA.
I shouldn’t mock the Board of Peace, which is a very real organization that cares about peace a whole bunch. That billion-dollar membership fee totally won’t end up in a cave in Qatar alongside pirated Venezuelan oil. Nope, it’s for peace, or perhaps condos on the Gazan territory Jared Kushner has decided he owns.
The effort to manufacture consent for the dumbest conceivable war was, I thought, suitably subpar. Ineffective, certainly. Jesse Watters wants to push on and conquer the Moon next, to establish a sanctuary for men who are afraid to drink from straws.
I thought the draft-dodging coward impugning the courage of allies who bled and died alongside our troops in Afghanistan was a fabulous touch. That metallic creaking sound is the Statue of Liberty physically cringing, by the way.
Still, bursts of authentic imperialist bloodthirst manifested here and there amongst ascendant American fascism’s office dork caste…the Greenland cake was a solid effort, lads, but in the end, we’re talking about an all-time bottom three idea from arguably the dumbest motherfucker who ever lived.
Anyhoo, it was off to Davos for that dementia pageant!
And okay, so he gets a little confused about which nation he’s threatening to attack. I’m sure Hegseth would be just as happy to botch the invasion of Iceland; you can lose $60 million jets anywhere if you set your mind to it.
I thought Carney really showed him up by not getting any countries at all wrong in his speech. Kinda uppity, frankly. Cognitive showboating. Well, it cost you your spot on the Board of Peace, Mr. Smartypants! And now Bessent’s stirring up the Albertan separatists, who’re notoriously susceptible to the wiles of that salt-of-the-earth soybean farmer type.
Putin got an invite to the Board of Peace, but he doesn’t have the billion to spare. Shit, Stephen Miller offered to divvy up Europe Molotov-Ribbentrop-style, but Vlad’s all, “I’d love to, but I couldn’t conquer a Denny’s right now.”
Luckily, the polling was crap and the market screamed, so he chickened out, fabricating one of his famous-if-not-quite-existent “deals,” the details of which will be ready in, you guessed it…two weeks.
While these manic tantrums on the global stage earn the condemnation of Catholic cardinals, it’s on the streets of Minneapolis where Greggie Bovino directs the block-by-block grind to establish a beachhead for a fascist police state, in his widdle coat.
I don’t know if you saw, but we’re not doing the Fourth Amendment anymore. Yeah, there was a memo. I’d always heard you’d need a whole new amendment to repeal such a fundamental right, but no, it turns out all you need is a memo, so if the government feels like dragging you from your home in the freezing cold in your underwear in search of some dude who turns out to be already incarcerated, well…they can do that.
Cuz of the memo.
I wonder if there was a “kidnap children to use as bait” memo, too, or if some enterprising young brownshirt came up with that on the spot? There’s been quite a bit of improvisation, actually, as the masked mediocrity brigade probes the limits of their Miller-granted immunity.
Pam Bondi’s taking wild, enormous swings of her own at the First Amendment, announcing “investigations” into every prominent Minnesota Democrat that fails to send a tasteful gift basket thanking the feds for all the tear gas, and even attempting to prosecute Don Lemon for covering a protest.
Not sure who’ll be handling these cases, since all those prosecutors resigned when they were ordered to go after Renee Good’s widow. Seems the only person in the whole dang state the DoJ doesn’t want to look into is Jonathan Ross, though I suppose all he really did was shoot a human being to death.
It’s not like he expressed disapproval of his government or anything.
Nice to watch the regime backpedal a bit. Even nicer to watch unbowed Americans tell their would-be oppressors where they can shove their unaccountable secret police force.
I see there’s a brand-new blotch on the immortal God Emperor’s non-shakin’ hand, but I’m sure it’s not a parasitic Slovenian blight demon birthing itself into this world or anything. Anyway, if you think his hand looks bad, you should see the portrait hanging in his attic.
Might want to get to work spending that $1.4 billion you’ve grifted off the presidency, boychick, on trophies and hand makeup and one last weekend fling with any remaining piss hookers Pooty hasn’t swapped to North Korea for cannon fodder.
House Judiciary Republicans came at Jack Smith and missed, as is their habit. It’ll be easier to tolerate their bizarre subculture’s incompetence rituals after the midterms, I think.
Looks like one of the DOGE brats leaked Social Security data to a political organization working to “overturn election results in certain states.” Just one more enormous crime we don’t have time to notice. Ah well, let’s sweep it under the rug, with the sayyyyyyyyyyyy whatever happened to them Epstein files, anyway?
During these exhausting times, I try to find solace in nature’s beauty. No doubt you all caught the annual migration of the shitty-bearded warbling cuckold, fleeing its constituents ahead of a winter storm sure to demonstrate the lethal failings of its state’s privatized grid.
Enjoyed watching Bill Cassidy collect his wages. Enjoyed the entire long, humiliating walk to the pay window, actually. It’s always nice to see one of the bad guys lose, even if only to the other bad guys.
Shouldn’t be a senator anyway. Obviously. Cassidy’s not one of the wicked ones; he’s just weak, but weakness gets mighty costly mighty quickly with autocrats constantly testing the fences.
When you look at the path of carnage Bobby Brainworm has hacked through our hard-won public health system…that’s what Bill Cassidy did with his life, y’know? The whole point of Bill Cassidy was to be the guy that said no to this one obviously catastrophic idea…but he was too weak.
Took oaths to do no harm and to support and defend the Constitution, which he has proven too weak to keep.
Leadership is not a good fit for you, Bill. Please step aside before your fecklessness uneradicates any more diseases.
Speaking of the best people, I see Lori Chavez-DeRemer has been running the Department of Labor out of a series of strip clubs around the nation, maintaining a personal booze stash for when they make her work in dumb ol’ Washington. Don’t worry, she won’t be removed from her post or even reprimanded; the whole point of kakisto-fascism is to remove all restraints from our shittiest citizens.
Like Kash Patel, for example. The Failing New York Times gave us a peek behind the curtain at his beclownification of the FBI. Probably not the best idea to let such a vain, petty dweeb purge the senior ranks of such an important law enforcement agency, but we voted to try bad ideas for a while, didn’t we?
The insurance lawyer abandoned her YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME STOOPID JUDGE gambit, so that’s another round to our reigning champ, beat to heck but technically undefeated for just under 250 years…THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT.
Okay. Apologies if I missed an atrocity here or a war there. Shit’s pretty nutty lately.
It goes without saying I need a drink, so if anybody feels like dropping a few bucks in the tip jar (PayPal, Venmo, Cash App, you know the drill), I certainly won’t tackle ya. I’ll keep the comic book Kickstarter open for a liiiiiiiiiiittle while longer, but you can always join the email list and follow @john_luzar. Stay safe (and warm!) out there, friendo…
In Addition to Eastasia, We Have Also Always Been at War With Venezuela, Minneapolis, and Denmark (Ferret!)
So, Kristi Noem appears to have invaded Minnesota. (Links n’ such: https://showercapblog.com/in-addition-to-eastasia-we-have-also-always-been-at-war-with-venezuela-minneapolis-and-denmark/)
The cursed Choose Your Own Adventure book we’ve been trapped in since 2015 started so innocuously. Page one, chapter one: “A buffoon descends an escalator. To make the buffoon president, turn to page 718,256.”
Ten years later, our eyelids have rotted away.
“Our most faithful allies are moving troops to Greenland to deter our threatened invasion. To tear gas children on American streets, turn to page 2,119,402. To arrange the handover of the Nobel Peace Prize as a bribe, turn to page 6.”
Turns out, if your culture really, truly commits to making the dumbest possible choice at each and every possible opportunity, you can wind up in some pretty wacky predicaments.
Like ours, for example, here in January 2026, where the Mad King, who was already the Dumb, Shitty, Rapist King before flinging himself down this cognitive Slip ‘N Slide, paws at the pages of history, desperate to leave as large a smudge as possible before the cankles carry him to the MAGA afterlife, where there are no midterm elections to subvert.
Look. I have no doubt it’s challenging for a cult of personality to watch its deified game show host deteriorate into incoherent rants about “hole milk,” but perhaps it’s time at last for this spoildest of all possible rich kids to hear the word “no.”
No, you may not invoke the Insurrection Act to crush the Wine Mom Rebellion. You may not have your “day of reckoning and retribution.” That’s a weird thing for a president to want, by the way. You’re supposed to want stuff like safety and prosperity, not a legion of roly-poly brownshirts running amok.
Somehow, despite a recruitment campaign aimed at white nationalists who’re swiftly armed with military surplus, promised immunity, and thrust, without background checks or training, into residential neighborhoods where they’re not wanted, to unconstitutionally harass American citizens, ICE isn’t polling well these days, possibly on account of all the threatening and shooting and blinding and gassing and window smashing and what have you, though I suppose the chokeholds may also be a factor.
(Pollsters should ask us how we feel about videos of ICE slipping on ice, though. I’ve been saving up a “strongly approve” for just such an occasion.)
Kakisto-fascism polls poorly generally, it turns out. It’s just a branding issue, though; the ungrateful masses will be made, at gunpoint if necessary, to understand and appreciate the glory waiting to be won for the fatherland in the fields (or fjords or whatever) of Greenland. Perhaps they don’t understand how tantalizingly large it appears on certain maps.
It’s actually for the mausoleum that is to be constructed to house Dear Leader’s magnificent remains in the unlikely event the perfect machine that is His body ever gives out. The island’s populace is to be conscripted, at gunpoint if necessary, as a hospitality labor class, eternally polishing his sports trophies and Purple Hearts and the Nobel Peace Prize he finally, finally extorted from María Corina Machado.
I don’t know how many more peace prizes I can take, you guys. Feels like watching Veruca Salt unwrap an Oompa-Loompa on Xmas morning, y’know?
Nice that they were able to squeeze the handoff in between the saber-rattling and all his new duties as Acting President of Venezuela, not that anybody’s mad with power or anything. Nope, noooooo decomposing megalomaniacs here. Where are we with that triumphal arch, Susie?
I see they also took a drunken/feral swipe at the Federal Reserve. WE’RE *hic* BUSTING THE NOTORIOUS POWELL REDECORATING SYN *hic* SYNDICATE! Of course you are.
Republican Senator Kevin Cramer finds this sloppy corruption “elegant,” which…(chuckle) no. “Either Jerome Powell resigns, or some disbarred dental lawyer tries to put him away for felony mattress tag removal” is not, to clarify, an “elegant” plan but rather a super, super dumb one.
After the latest wave of principled resignations, who’s even left at the clumsily weaponized Department of Justice? Lindsey Halligan barricaded in an office she’s legally barred from holding, and the odd white nationalist?
During these dark times, I find it necessary to season my internet feed with cute animal videos, just to regulate the ol’ mood a bit. I’m partial to red pandas and baby hippos, but there’s really nothing more adorable than watching Mike Johnson attempt to legislate.
Even with the most awesome military force in human history at his push-button disposal, Pete Hegseth can’t sink a boat with 11 people onboard without committing the war crime known as “perfidy,” which must be this “warrior ethos” we’ve been hearing so much about.
While the global economy rearranges itself around us, the Führer frolics with the MAGA furries down at Mar-a-Lago, and if, at his latest screening, he said the drawing of the cow was a “horsey,” well, that’s close enough for government work, surely.
Yeah, it’s a little freaky out there. Why, if it wasn’t for Ag Secretary Rollins’ $3 nutritional allotment, I imagine I’d be pretty worked up. Fortunately, I find the piece of chicken/piece of broccoli/tortilla/one other thing combo keeps me close enough to malnourished to remain reliably docile.
Still, I’d like to think I could muster the strength to shout a little somethin’ if the Dotard happened to waddle within earshot. Something to earn a petulant waggle of that stunted, inadequate middle finger. No, Donald…fuck you.
For all of it. And for sneaking in yet another round of pardons while we’re focused on defending our fundamental civil rights from deputized Proud Boys. “What was that about Congresswoman Lisa McClain’s blatant insider trading? I couldn’t hear you over the crack of the nightstick.”
Or those files. I distinctly remember files of some sort.
Ah well, it’s probably nothing. (Parachutes into the Danish countryside, armed with forty-seven days of training and two dolls.)
Yes, I’m off to slay the filthy Dane, as is my duty. Care packages will be accepted at the front, provided they are beer. (Venmo, Cash App, PayPal, etc.) Gonna keep late pledges open on the comic book Kickstarter for juuuuuuuuust a bit longer, so get on that if you haven’t!
Follow @john_luzar, and oh golly, please stay safe out there, folks!
Jokes About the State Gunning Us Down in the Street, I Guess (Ferret/Shower Cap)
No doubt historians will remember The Week Where the Regime Change Wasn’t the Most Terrifying Abuse of State Violence as the healthiest of the entire American experiment. Tell the spirits of the Founders it’s okay to move on to the next plane of existence; we’ve got this “freedom” thing aced.
Like a cognitive test, baby.
(Better w/ links: https://showercapblog.com/jokes-about-the-state-gunning-us-down-in-the-street-i-guess/)
Unless, of course, you believe in some sort of fundamental right to drive home from dropping your kid off at school without a masked agent of the state shooting you in the face. But that’s just commie talk.
Don’t worry; she was a terrorist. A dues-paying member of the massive conspiracy to transform your children, via vaccination, into transgender furries who shit only in litter boxes. One of the many busloads of Antifas lurking on the edge of your community even now, bedazzling bags of rainbow fentanyl.
Just like that lady they shot in Chicago was a terrorist. Okay, that one fell apart under the mildest scrutiny, so let’s say just like Kilmer Albrego Garcia was a human trafficker, not that we can prove that one in court, either.
Look, this dangerously undertrained goon squad has a lot of Americans left to execute in the street yet, so you may as well agree up front that every single victim will turn out to be a terrorist, folks, 100% of them, because our unaccountable secret police force doesn’t make mistakes, nosireebob, not after 47 whole days of training.
Why 47? You know why. Our government basically only does two things now: branding and bloodshed.
Anyway, should you feel like protesting this erosion of your civil liberties, well, maybe you can turn out to be a terrorist, too.
Might be interesting, I suppose. To think about all the cabinet secretaries you’ll have slandering you before your next of kin is even notified. “Golly, I wonder which social media posts Jesse Watters will use to demonize me to Fox’s prime-time audience?”
Why, maybe just maybe my murder might merit the attention of the Vice President of the United States of America. Maybe JD himself will waddle out, in blood-red eyeliner, to denounce me with the biggest lie he can muster. “Eating the pets was this guy’s idea, actually! He’s the Bin Laden of killing, cooking, and consuming beloved suburban pets.”
Yeah, instead of apologizing for killing you, your government rolls your corpse out for the Two Minutes Hate. One of the DOGE boys suggested this efficiency, I’m told.
We conquered Venezuela, though. Had to. Cuz of the dancing, you see. Can’t have that. Not in your sphere of influence.
Anyhoo, it’s ours now. The process is way simpler than you’d think. You give an order, they show you part of a Tom Clancy movie, and then everybody in a whole-ass country has to do what you say forever.
Plus you get all their natural resources. Oil, babes, whatever. Forever. Cuz you can always order another Tom Clancy movie, see? They don’t cost anything. Apparently.
This is the “Don-roe Doctrine” (another gem from the visionary name-caller behind “Gavin Newscum”) in action: via the mechanism of kidnapping, you simply cycle through heads of state until the law of averages delivers one willing to trade their nation’s mineral wealth for a handful of shiny beads. We could expedite the process with a pneumatic tube system connecting the various presidential palaces directly to GITMO.
So they staged Maduro’s perp walk pageant and felt like big, tuff men indeed. Understand, erections like this are hard to come by for a man with Pete Hegseth’s drinking problems.
Especially with Lindsey Graham bounding about like a Christmas morning puppy, yapping about all the wars he wants to start next.
Yes, though “Don’t worry, Marco Rubio’s in charge” is a perfect six-word geopolitical horror story, somehow these goofballs have convinced themselves this stuff is easy and they’re good at it.
So naturally they can’t wait to do it again.
Shit, make it a boys’ night thing, where ascendent American fascism’s pencil-pusher class can bump chests, and whoever imbibes the most appletinis gets to pick the next target. Cuba or Colombia or OOO OOO WE SHOULD TOTALLY INVADE GREENLAND YOU GUYS!
Sure. Let’s just do it and be legends.
Though I confess I’m having trouble mustering the requisite patriotic bloodthirst, which I attribute to the, how shall I put this…dorkiness? Of the propagandists? I can’t get worked up about being a “dominant predator” because of the “iron laws of the world” when the messenger is Andy Ogles or Stephen Miller. Because they are dorks.
Can we not end NATO on the whim of a deteriorating rapist, actually? I just thought the post-WWII order was pretty cool, on account of all the peace and prosperity, but…no, you’re right, we should listen to the fellow who is, after all, passing all the cognitive tests.
In fact, why don’t we give him this $600 billion budget increase he wants to build his “dream military,” which he shall then deploy hither and yon, restrained only by his “own mortality”? He just wants triumphal arches and as much of an empire as the cankles and/or the Constitution will permit, you guys.
Stop worrying so much. He’s just joking about canceling the midterms. He’s got all kinds of funny, funny jokes about mob violence and subverting democracy, and have you heard the one about Paul Pelosi and the hammer?
Let him go on seizing oil tankers and cutting off funding to blue states. Let him rub his filthy name all over our country and our culture, from the Kennedy Center to our national parks to the Smithsonian. Let him spill blood from Caracas to Minneapolis.
At a certain point, it’ll be enough, and he’ll stop. Surely. Susan Collins assured me he’d learned his lesson.
The official White House website debuted their grade school shoebox diorama attempt to rewrite the history of the Capitol Riot. They’ll paint Ashli Babbitt on the ceiling of the Oval Office before they’re through, but Renee Good was a terrorist. Got it.
Credit where it’s due, I’m officially Distracted From the Epstein Files. You know, the ones the government continues to illegally withhold. Yeah, I’m more worried about said government killing me now, so…nice work?
I kinda can’t wait to see which MAGA legal luminary gets the Maduro prosecution. I hope it’s Habba or the insurance lady, and that they stick with the accusations of heading that fake cartel they made up. Shit, if you draw Aileen Cannon, you probably get away with it.
I’m glad CBS’ rightward lurch is off to such an embarrassing start. Corruption should be humiliating, don’tcha think?
Understanding his bullshit case against Mark Kelly would get laughed out of court, Secretary Funsoxx announced that he would pursue petty bureaucratic retribution instead, restoring masculinity to the Pentagon at long last.
Kari Lake bought a condo in Iowa, hoping to repot her batshit brand under even softer light, no doubt. I think a Kari Lake statewide run would be an illuminating subplot to the Crowning of Prince JD, actually.
We’re about to see more kids with meningitis; that’ll be…gut-wrenching. Yeah, the brainworm guy wants more meningitis, so that’s what we’re doin’. Oh, and 2025 was the worst year for job growth since the pandemic, and over in the corner, you’ll notice Elon Musk rambling about “white solidarity,” so that’s enough news for one week, I think.
Chroniclin’ fascism makes me thirsty, so feel free to toss a buck or two into the beer fund (accepting Cash App, PayPal, and Venmo!), sign up on the email list, and follow @john_luzar. The Kickstarter for the new comic book is still taking late pledges for a little while longer, too!
But stay safe out there, friend. Stay safe.
On Renamings, Redactions, and Rob Reiner (Ferret/Shower Cap)
You guys, what if the backup plan to Project 2025 relies on making the domestic opposition too ashamed of being American to fight for their country?
(Links! Valor! Compassion!: https://showercapblog.com/on-renamings-redactions-and-rob-reiner/)
Might just work, too. You watch his lewd, triumphal gyrations over the murder of a celebrity critic, like a strip club on Giedi Prime, and the appeal of living the rest of your life alongside the millions who rock the fuck out to such obscenity wanes a bit.
He must’ve been so disappointed to learn Rob and Michele Reiner were not, as he so gleefully assumed, killed by a loyal MAGA foot soldier in his name. Man, you know you’re a fucking loser when even your stochastic terrorism flex fizzles out.
YEAH WELL WE PUT HIS NAME ON THE KENNEDY CENTER! AREN’T YOU TRIGGERED, LIBTARDS?
Not particularly. If you want to see triggered, snap a selfie when they scrape it off in three years. I know you guys; you’ll pop like zits. I look forward to the video of Kid Rock blowing up a Marriage of Figaro program with a bazooka.
HOW ABOUT THE PLAQUES DID YOU SEE THE PLAQUES ONE OF THEM SAYS BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA AND ONE SAYS SLEEPY JOE AND THE PICTURE IS AN AUTOPEN BET YOU’RE TRIGGERED PLEASE SAY YOU’RE TRIGGERED I’M SO LONELY MY CHILDREN STOPPED CALLING HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO?
Everyone’s really impressed. Truly. Meanwhile, the mighty strongman still struggles to make it through his abbreviated workdays without nodding off on camera, though in his defense, all that cognitive screening can really tucker a septuagenarian rapist out.
Still, pump him full of enough Adderall (with just a dash of the finest vintage from Elon’s ketamine cellar), and he can bleat his way through a 20-minute speech, so long as he doesn’t have to gesture with his shameful death-blotch hand.
Less a speech, really, than a primal, impotent cry to let him gaslight the nation just a little longer, until the cankles rupture and the 224 pounds (wink) of bile and rat turds within spill out onto the Oval Office floor.
He’s so flummoxed and scared. He can’t figure out why us ungrateful plebs don’t just thank him for the fake accomplishments he keeps making up. It’s not like taking credit for ending a war between countries his voters couldn’t find on a map; we know food prices aren’t down, because we have to keep buying the stuff or we’ll die.
You might walk into the pharmacy expecting a 600% discount, but they’ll set you straight pretty quick. And maybe there’s $1.99 gas someplace, but it sure as shit ain’t near me.
If you’re in the military, you’re getting a little holiday bribe, though, and if the money comes out of an already appropriated housing allowance, well, it’s no secret your commander in chief thinks of you as suckers and losers. Anyway, there’s plenty more where that came from if you follow the orders Hegseth gives when the GOP loses the 2028 elections.
I guess Pam Bondi must’ve spilled an inkwell or two (or thirty) all over the Epstein files while they were on her desk, because the incomplete fragment they released this week seems to have been almost entirely redacted beyond a couple of photographs of Bill Clinton.
Probably for the best, as I haven’t stopped puking since I read that article in the Failing New York Times about the pedofriendship between ol’ Jeff and a certain wonderful secret-sharer.
Turd Reich Chief of Staff Susie Wiles tends to keep out of the headlines, so she must’ve been making up for lost time when she sat down with Vanity Fair to dish on the creep cabal she works alongside.
So many newsy little quotes in that article, huh? The President “has an alcoholic personality.” Stephen Miller “swallows live slugs and masturbates to TikTok videos of animals in pain.” Marco Rubio “steals Trump’s socks and sucks on them when he thinks no one is looking.”
Now, this sloppy wad of doofuses has all kinds of mad, fashy plans, like denaturalizing citizens and cracking down on political speech, so I’m certainly thankful for their ongoing ineptitude.
Speaking of, I see Elise Stefanik collected her wages. Not the U.N. ambassadorship, nor a ticket to the New York State Executive Mansion, nor even the seat she’s held in Congress since 2015; no, in exchange for her soul, Elise walks away from electoral politics with a big, fat sack of absolutely nothing, which is fair market value, if you ask me.
Without the benefit of the killer’s father turning him in, Kash Patel’s FBI struggled to locate the latest campus mass shooter, this time at Brown University. “He could be anywhere,” stated one frustrated official.
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? If he’d been hiding out on Katie Miller’s podcast, Kash would’ve caught him for sure. What, you don’t expect the FBI Director to sully his time with law enforcement duties when he could be jetting around the country with his girlfriend on the taxpayer’s dime?
Dan Bongino, however, will be booking his own flights from now on, having realized public service is way harder than spouting lies on the internet. Here’s a phrase I never imagined I’d write: Republicans should be MORE LIKE DAN BONGINO, at least when it comes to quitting jobs they were never qualified for in the first place.
I was gonna suggest referring to Speaker Moses as “Mikey Discharge” from now on, but it turns out that triggers my gag reflex. Point is, while the occasional bill might reach the House floor on Mike Johnson’s say-so, they’re mainly arriving via discharge petition these days. Thanks to a unified Democratic caucus and a quartet of GOP moderates, we’re getting a vote on a three-year extension of ACA subsidies early next year, unless he orders another two-month vacation.
House Republicans were of course far too chickenshit to allow Jack Smith to testify publicly this week, but his opening statement leaked anyway. It’s okay, fellas; we can wait till your midterm whoopin’, assuming Kid Kankles lasts that long.
Tommy Tuberville considers it a “badge of honor” to be labeled an Islamophobic extremist, which makes sense; heaven knows he’s never excelled at anything other than hatred.
Thwarted in her quest to procure the seed of the world’s richest dork, Bettina Anderson officially settled for Rapist Jr., confident the cocaine overdose will strike before he notices the arrangement with the pool boy and alters the will accordingly.
So I guess Alan Dershowitz told the Dotard the Constitution is “unclear” on whether or not he’s allowed to run for a third term. Of course, there’s a whole-ass amendment saying he can’t, but Dersho’s only too happy to burn down American democracy if it means keeping the them files under wraps a little longer.
RFK Jr. worried that his measles outbreak might get lonely while he’s out harvesting whale heads, so he brought a whooping cough outbreak home for company. Say, how much is that bubonic plague in the window?
As for me, I remain a humble peddler of fart jokes, hoping to save enough to purchase a pair of Sticky Kicks. So feel free to toss a buck or two into my tip jar (now accepting PayPal, Cash App, and Venmo!), or if you really wanna make my day, the Kickstarter for my latest comic book is still accepting late pledges!
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/general-washington-and-the-liberty-tree/posts/4549372
Ok, I’m taking the next couple of weeks off for the holidays, but I’ll see y’all in 2026! As always, follow @john_luzar, sign up on my email list, and pretty please with REDACTED on top, STAY SAFE OUT THERE!
Why Yes, There IS a Waterloo, Indiana. Why Do You Ask? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Now that commenting on the Offal in Oval’s glaringly apparent physical and mental decline has been officially declared treasonous, I invite you, dear reader, to enter into a humbly seditious conspiracy with me.
(O the links n’ shininess that await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/why-yes-there-is-a-waterloo-indiana-why-do-you-ask/)
Just for the record, the President of the United States will take somewhere between two and thirty-seven cognitive tests in the time it takes you to read this blog. We know this, despite the administration’s extensive efforts to conceal his health struggles, because the sloppy fop won’t stop bragging about them, as though the doctors monitoring his cerebral decay keep requesting command performances of his awesome identifying-drawings-of-animals skillz because they’re so dang impressive.
Perhaps the only thing declining more rapidly than his mental acuity is his grip on power. Whatsamatter, is the big, tuff stwongman no longer stwong enough to bully one little ol’ state legislature into mid-decade redistricting?
Lord knows they’re slow learners, but it seems a handful of Republicans have finally lost enough special elections to realize that all this frantic gerrymandering is only necessary because of one lame duck’s dumbfuck war on the cost of living.
Good luck getting the old narcissist to admit error and reverse course, by the way, now that they’re lobbing ersatz peace prizes at him. Of course he gives himself an A+++++on the economy he’s single-handedly wrecking; Lutnick's ass-kissing alone leaves him coated in a film no reality could hope to pierce.
YOUR KIDS HAVE TOO MANY DOLLS ALSO I’M FURTHER EXPANDING MY BALLROOM AS THERE WAS INSUFFICIENT PRANCING SPACE UNDER THE PREVIOUS LAYOUT.
Only A+++++ economies require $12 billion farmer bailouts, y’know. They’re only canceling all these inflation reports so Americans don’t splurge on unnecessary frivolities, like a third pencil.
And Donald Trump will never, ever, ever, ever, eeeeeeeever find his way out of this particular paper bag. He’s already deployed his biggest gun: the Hoax Maneuver.
“Mr. President, we just lost the election for mayor of Miami; we have to address the affordability crisis!”
“No, I called it a hoax, it’s fine.”
“Mr. President, with respect, your polling on the economy fell another --“
“QUIET, PIGGY!”
Yeah, somehow, his trademark blend of threats and incompetence failed him this time. A species long believed extinct, the Republican with a Spine, surfaced unexpectedly in the Indiana Senate, and Wee Donnie Dotard scampered away to pretend he never wanted the dumb ol’ gerrymander in the first place.
I love that he picked such a low point to finally take that futile stab at pardoning Tina Peters, by the way. And what’s that? Another grand jury refused to indict Letitia James? Kilmar Abrego Garcia has been ordered released? It’s like an impotence pageant.
Somebody call Ronny Jackson, maybe a cognitive test will cheer him up. Or perhaps one of those novelty condoms with his face on the package, you know, the ones from Jeffrey Epstein’s place.
Maybe meddling in the Warner Bros. sale would distract him. Obviously he wants his oligarch pals to gut CNN, but I bet Netflix could sway him by using AI to edit him into a few beloved American classics. Give him the Sydney Greenstreet role in The Maltese Falcon, only at the end, when he’s scraping at the statue (spoilers!), it turns out to be the Nobel Peace Prize, and he gives a ninety-minute speech about water pressure and windmill cancer.
Somehow, when the Roberts Court looks upon this shit show, they think the problem is that the deteriorating tyrant doesn’t have quiiiiiiite enough authority yet. In less than a year, he’s built an unaccountable, masked police force that’s detaining U.S. citizens and cutting their fucking wedding rings right off their fingers, but no, let’s give him a little more power.
Rumor has it Tom Homan and Kristi Noem are feuding, presumably over who gets the top bunk in the Commandant’s quarters at Alligator Alcatraz. I’m inclined to give it to Noem, who clearly needs a safe space to retreat to from all those congressional hearings she can’t handle.
I just got back from a time travel adventure that took me to the ultimate death of this universe millennia from now, where Nancy Mace is still rambling interminably about the fucking airport thing. “Wait, how can you claim to ‘back the blue’ when you’re calling cops filthy, stinking, deep state liars?” gasped the weary cosmos before committing suicide to get away from the crazy lady.
Speaking of airports, if you’ve ever wanted to do pull-ups there, you’re in luck, because we’re governed by idiots. The RFK Jr./Sean Duffy workout nook next to the food court will be a great spot to contract measles, though.
Some sort of civil war appears to’ve erupted amongst the shittiest figures in the wingnut griftosphere over where precisely to set Charlie Kirk’s Reichstag fire. Candace Owens. Nick Fuentes. Tucker Carlson. Megyn Kelly. Tim Pool. I wouldn’t dream of weighing in on who’s right or wrong here; I only hope they can all find a nice, abandoned sewage treatment plant and enough rusty forks to work everything out.
Speaking of intra-death cult hostilities, apparently Marjorie Taylor Greene is scheming to shank Mike Johnson on her way out of town. I certainly salute the spite, but isn’t the best available revenge here leaving him in the Speaker’s chair while everybody and their dog governs around him via discharge petition?
Seems the Reich plans to demand five years of social media history from prospective tourists from 42 nations, in what I can only assume is an employment program for the MAGA shut-ins who got that first, tantalizing taste of cancel culture during those heady days following Kirk’s death. Won’t even have to pay ‘em, they’ll work for the fleeting thrill of harming foreigners.
So, last week, a certain untreated dementia patient pardoned Democratic Representative Henry Cuellar, apparently expecting him to switch parties in gratitude. However, having failed to work out the details or even mention the arrangement in advance, he could only flail petulantly as Cuellar instead announced a run for re-election as a Democrat, taking a once-competitive seat off the board entirely.
This must be that “Art of the Deal” thing I’ve been hearing so much about.
And the artist is nothing if not prolific. Why, only this week, he swapped our nation’s most advanced AI chips to our leading economic and military rival for an unfulfilled promise to purchase some soybeans! Sure, that looks like a bad deal on paper, but if even one of those unsold soybeans sprouts a beanstalk that leads to some sort of precious metal-dispensing waterfowl, it could still work out.
Liddle Marco Rubio’s tenure as the nation’s chief diplomat (on paper, anyway) has been noteworthy mostly for its betrayals of our allies and our principles, but his triumph over an allegedly “woke” font shall echo throug history’s halls, surely.
All their “victories” are that petty. I assume you saw where they dropped Juneteenth and M.L.K. Day as free admission days at our national parks, replacing them with some rapist’s birthday. I bet that was a HUGE hit at the brainstorming session at Stephen Miller’s favorite mayonnaise bar.
Enjoy it, I guess. When your life flashes before your eyes in that dumpster behind the local meth lab, I’m sure the memory of the two or three Juneteenths when people had to pay to see the Grand Canyon will be a real highlight.
“I know! What if we make up some bullshit excuse to cancel a bunch of naturalization ceremonies at the last minute? We could even snatch ‘em right out of line when they show up!” And then Stephen orders that kid a giant glass boot filled with Hellmann’s, and all the other dickless losers chant while he chugs it.
The military somehow managed to seize a Venezuelan oil tanker without murdering everyone aboard, which must’ve disappointed Tom Cotton, who only gets invited on th’Sunday Shoz™️ anymore when there’re war crimes that need justifyin’.
Ron Johnson endorsed a new book by some quack who in turn endorses chemical disinfectant as a multipurpose miracle cure, cuz they’re Old Testament MAGA.
Glenn Beck made himself an AI George Washington to talk to, which my sources tell me has sparked significant jealousy in his Ronald Reagan waifu pillow.
Pete Hegseth’s mentor is into cuck porn. I…don’t think I can improve on that one.
Meanwhile, a Cinnabon worker fired for a racist rant has raised more than $130,000 from people who would rather see racism rewarded, while I toil in the fart joke mines for beer money.
Speaking of which, feel free to donate to my beer fund (via Venmo, Cash App, or PayPal!), to follow @john_luzar, or to join my email list! And if you missed the Kickstarter for my latest, bestest comic book yet, late pledges are still open! And please, stay safe out there if you’re able…
FUN FACT: Donald Trump is the First Rapist to Win the FIFA Peace Prize! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
So, now that we’ve entered the Daily Televised Nap phase of the Thousand Year Reich, I was thinking it’s probably time for that difficult talk about taking the keys to the death cult away from grandpa.
(As ever, links n’ such await ye: https://showercapblog.com/fun-fact-donald-trump-is-the-first-rapist-to-win-the-fifa-peace-prize/)
No? Well, then, I suppose we may as well launch the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace in the middle of a war crimes scandal now that his second-term goals have narrowed to naming things after himself and concealing whatever horrifying signs of his impending death have manifested on the back of his right hand.
Aw, who’m I to disparage the recipient of the prestigious FIFA PEACE PRIZE, awarded annually to a rapist who demonstrates excellence in the fields of murdering people in international waters, selling loyal allies out to genocidal dictators, and tear-gassing children?
The FIFA Peace Prize. Lordy.
Admit it, though, when you first heard about it a couple weeks back, you thought, “Maybe not the most dignified thing I’ve ever seen, but as plans go…it’s a good’un.” And sure enough, the minute the shiny bauble lands ‘round his neck, the American president calls on American football to call itself something different.
I have no idea what a soccer league could possibly want or need from the U.S. government, but I know they’re gettin’ it. “Any boats you want blown up, fellas? Just say the word!”
We’re about to see a wave of copycat peace prizes from every industry looking to get out from under a debilitating tariff. The Folgers Harmony Award. The General Motors Order of International Brotherhood. The Biannual I’m-About-to-Lose-My-Soybean-Farm $25 Denny’s Gift Card of Unity or Whatever.
All peace prizes shall be celebrated in the traditional manner, of course: butchering another boatload of “narcoterrorists.”
Which brings us to Hegseth.
Golly gee, who knew that behind all those fun, fun socks lurked a bonafide war criminal? On the other hand, I feel like nine out of ten Fox Nooz personalities would violate the Geneva Conventions within six months of taking over the Pentagon, which is why previous administrations opted for more…sober leadership. (Zing!)
And you wonder if we could’ve been spared the spiritual blight of Pete’s monstrously illegal orders had he been removed from his post for endangering our troops’ lives through his careless dissemination of classified information during Signalgate, but of course issuing illegal orders is the whole reason he landed the gig in the first place.
Incidentally, between the ones he fires outright for refusing to follow his bloodthirsty commands and the ones he shoves under the bus after the fact, Petey’s gonna run out of admirals soon.
While decent Americans are appalled at these extrajudicial atrocities, Megyn Kelly finds them insufficiently sadistic. She wants dismemberments, dammit! Live-streamed, ideally, so she can watch ‘em die, with blood coming out of their wherever.
Mere caning would satisfy prominent golf person Phil Mickelson, in what passes for civility in our inordinately healthy right-wing political culture. Congrats on your souls, I guess. I don’t have any firm beliefs on the afterlife, but I imagine eternal burlap underpants is your ceiling at this point.
I almost appreciate the increasingly open shittiness, honestly. No more dog whistles or plausible deniability; just the raw, unfiltered, gutter racism of Off-Brand Orbán’s anti-Somali diatribe, because it’s not just that the cruelty is the point, it’s that cruelty is the only thing they do well.
And so, despite the latest massive leftward swing in a special election, this time in a deep-red Tennessee district, the rats remain too thoroughly brainwashed to even consider escaping the sinking ship. That only Marjorie Taylor Greene of all people seems to’ve noticed the trademark stench of duck growing lamer by the hour is…awfully amusing, don’tcha think?
When the God Emperor can no longer muster the stamina to stay awake through the tongue-bathing “Cabinet meeting” ritual, you can probably stop licking his ass, though I suspect they’ve grown legitimately fond of the taste, these governors and senators and billionaires.
Or perhaps they’ve simply forgotten how to do anything else. I confess I enjoy watching the sycophants scramble to defend each new inanity, like, say, pardoning a drug kingpin responsible for smuggling 500 tons of cocaine into the United States while slaughtering everyone who slides a dinghy into the Caribbean in the name of a drug war, for example.
AFFORDABILITY IS A DEMOCRAT HOAX could be the next big red ballcap slogan, but thanks to the trade war with China, I don’t see how they can be manufactured affordably, speaking of cartoonishly unpopular shit Republicans can’t seem to stop themselves from defending.
The Offal in the Oval unveiled a “hall of shame” for news outlets that report things he doesn’t like, which no doubt impressed all the same people who got off on his petulant “quiet, piggy” outburst, most of whom are nine.
Meanwhile, Matt Gaetz, Laura Loomer, and Jack Posobiec, first-ballot media hall-of-shamers all, are asking the questions at the Pentagon nowadays, though I don’t suppose one needs t’be particularly qualified to cover the Secretary’s (excuse me, “SSecretary’s”) cartoon turtle memes.
Warmest congratulations go out to Hepatitis B, which gets to infect a whole new generation of American children, thanks to Bobby Brainworm and his dipshit brigade. Hope this news doesn’t rain on Olivia Nuzzi’s book tour.
Kash Patel apparently refuses to deplane without a properly fitting (i.e., lady-sized) jacket and 37 pieces of flair, and you know morale’s through the roof at the FBI when shit like that leaks. Odd, you’d think law enforcement officers would adore chauffeuring the incompetent, overmatched director’s girlfriend’s drunken idiot friend around.
With mid-decade redistricting efforts stalled in the Indiana Senate, MAGA’s leading intellectuals mobilized every persuasive tool at their disposal to convince the holdouts: harassment, bomb threats, and swatting. What’s that? Did they try making a logical and/or moral case for their position? Oh, my sweet summer child.
I see the wannabe autocrats defiling our Justice Department bungled their latest attempt to indict Letitia James, now that the insurance lawyer got the boot. Oh, and Alina Habba was indeed illegally serving in her latest post. I’m sure everyone will wind up shuffled around to new jobs in time…we could use a few more admirals, now that I think of it.
Does the steady stream of ICE abuses even register anymore? An illegally detained U.S. citizen here, a deported college student there, and if agents “engage in widespread misrepresentations to justify use of force,” well, there’s no point in crying over spilt tear gas, right?
Or spilt pepper spray. Even if it got spilt on, say, a Congresswoman.
With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I hope everybody out there reading this finds someone to look at them the way Congresswoman Maria Salazar looks at the prospect of invading Venezuela for their oil. That’s true fuckin’ love, folks.
A pardoned Capitol rioter has been seen skulking around Jamie Raskin’s residence, to give him cupcakes and a hug, no doubt.
There’s a new influencer on the scene for conservatives who find Riley Gaines’ fifth-place finish too elitist: barely literate University of Oklahoma junior Samantha Fulnecky, a fierce advocate for the inalienable right to get an A for an essay calling people she dislikes “demonic,” because The Bible. Like Gaines, Fulnecky now likely faces a life of fame and fortune, while I tell political fart jokes for beer money.
Spreading of beer money, the tip jar still accepts Cash App, Venmo, and PayPal, and if you missed the Kickstarter for my latest comic book, we’re still accepting late pledges! You can follow @john_luzar or sign up on my email list, but even if you don’t, stay safe out there, m’lovelies…
A Rapist, a Pedophile, & the Dumbest Man Alive Walk Into a Bar. Bartender Says "What'll It Be, Mr. President?" (Ferret)
Sometimes I picture the ragged remains of humanity, huddling in caves, hiding from whatever species supplants us as the planet’s dominant life form (we flatter ourselves it’ll be AI, but given the course we’re on, we better hope the pigeons don’t make their move), flipping through the charred remnants of a history textbook, landing on a picture of an adjudicated rapist spritzing an Al Qaeda leader with cologne in the Oval Office, and realizing it was likely somewhere around here when our civilization took that big wrong turn at Albuquerque.
(Links, shiny colors, and punchlines await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/a-rapist-a-pedophile-the-dumbest-man-alive-walk-into-a-bar-bartender-says-whatll-it-be-mr-president/)
HOW MANY WIVES YA GOT? joshed the rapist to the terrorist, because that’s what passed for diplomacy back then. We were already pretty shell-shocked by the relentless kakistocracy, but little did we know we were in for an exceptionally healthy national debate about whether to reevaluate those stodgy social norms vilifying child molestation.
Because the American electorate, in their wisdom, had reinstalled a pedophile in the highest office in the land, you see.
In hindsight, it’s no surprise we failed to notice the massing pigeons.
All MAGA roads lead, and have always led, nowhere but the leper colony outhouse where Megyn Kelly’s soul now resides. Congratulations on your life, Megyn; you barreled past off-ramps at “grab ‘em by the pussy” and “my daughter is a piece of ass,” only to run out of gas in the middle of “Jeffrey Epstein got a bad rap” country. Hopefully there aren’t too many mirrors there.
I never thought I’d live to see our Attention Whore in Chief scamper away from the press, especially given his starring role in this newest batch of emails from the Epstein estate, where he appears in 1,628 different documents, more than anyone else. Neighborly stuff mostly, swinging by to ask to borrow a cup of sugar, or perhaps a teenaged spa employee.
Okay, so he “knew about the girls!” So he “spent hours” with one of the victims! Perhaps they were simply exploring a shared passion for drawings of barnyard animals.
Admittedly, rape seems the likelier option, given the other rapes and the history of leching on underage girls, including at least one he personally fathered (sorry, Tiffany, you weren’t hot enough), hence the fresh boils on the portrait in Miz Kelly’s attic.
We have to assume the unreleased files contain even viler details, given the desperate measures the Reich has taken to keep them concealed. Lauren Boebert in the Situation Room ain’t exactly George Washington crossing the Delaware, but if Americans wanted dignified history, they should’ve made better choices.
Aw, I shouldn’t make unfounded assumptions. I’m sure Ghislaine Maxwell earned all that special treatment for lots of things beyond her silence. Loads of child abusers get puppies to play with in prison, not just the ones with wonderful secrets. Loads.
Oddly enough, putting the worst human being in the world’s most notorious child sex trafficker’s Rolodex in charge of our economy hasn’t worked out, though I’m sure this planned series of “affordability speeches” will clear everything right up.
Sure. A couple more reminders that the doddering old man who has unconstitutionally usurped congressional taxation powers thinks magnets are magic should give the ol’ consumer confidence index just the jolt it needs. And if not, hey, we can just stop reporting the numbers, like with jobs and inflation. Remember how Covid went away when we stopped testing for it?
At least he’s finally rolling back the tariffs on coffee and bananas. Yeah, those tariffs raised prices on consumers, but all the ones he’s keeping don’t, because, well, nobody knows, really. Tariffs are the magnets of the economy, if you will.
I suppose day-to-day presidenting doesn’t require a particularly intimate knowledge of magnets, but I can’t say I feel awesome about unrestrained nuclear strike authority resting with a 79-year-old child molester who can no longer navigate a softball interview with Laura Ingraham without rambling about the need to replace the talentless American workforce with foreigners.
In the midst of all this, he expects the Washington Commanders to name their stadium after him, a stadium he got booed out of, incidentally. I can’t claim any expertise here, but I imagine the brand peaked some time before the self-inflicted recession and those 1,628 new links to the sex trafficker.
MAGA Republican senators voted themselves a half-million-dollar treason bonus as compensation for the emotional labor of enduring legal scrutiny of their participation in the criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election and end American democracy forever, and I for one have never felt better about paying taxes.
Why, just look at all the fun places Kash Patel gets to fly on my dime! Vegas! Nashville! Wrasslin’ shows! Country concerts! And after a long, hard week undermining public safety with ideological purges of federal law enforcement, you can’t expect a guy to unwind at just any private, elitist, luxury hunting resort! Only the Boondoggle Ranch will do, presumably because the staff has been trained not to complain when you tip with challenge coins.
Speaking of the FBI, Deputy Director Dan Bongino couldn’t pass a standard background check, but Kash waived the requirement, because BROS BEFORE NATIONAL SECURITY, amirite?
Seems the doors of the U.S. Treasury have been flung open for any enterprising MAGA grifter to eat their fill. Mike Flynn wants $50 million, but I bet Pam Bondi can talk him down to 45. Kristi Noem figured out a way to funnel her chums a healthy cut of DHS’ recently engorged advertising budget. Oh, and now members of the Coast Guard can purchase the official wine of a child molester who doesn’t understand how magnets work, if they’re so inclined.
When Bill Pulte isn’t busy firing the watchdogs investigating his clownish corruption, he’s feeding his boss ego-stroking memes to get him to endorse the staggeringly idiotic idea of 50-year mortgages. Which worked, of course. Suckling that old fop’s ass seldom fails, so long as you’re willing to live with the taste in your mouth for the rest of your pathetic life.
Getting back to high-profile Republican pedophiles real quick, we learned retch-inducing new details about Matt Gaetz’s crimes on, coincidentally, the one-year anniversary of his nomination to head the Department of Justice. It’s actually a small miracle those files made it all the way to the AG’s desk.
Britain suspended some intelligence sharing with the United States over the whole “regular extrajudicial murders” thing, but they probably just haven’t fully absorbed the very stable legal genius of the Cuz We Said So memo justifying the slaughter.
Apparently envious of the massive defamation payouts levied against rival disinformation platforms, Glenn Beck’s th’Blaze decided to accuse a not-exactly-random CIA officer of being the uncaught Capitol Hill pipe bomber based on the super-real and mega-accurate science of “gait analysis,” as conducted by Some Guy on the Internet, reminiscent of the time Fox Nooz based the entire Big Lie on the mutterings of a “cactus artist.”
Tucker Carlson suggested a Lutheran pastor who participated in a plot to assassinate Hitler was a bad Christian, which must have delighted his new BFF Nick Fuentes.
On the heels of their shiny new pardons, Mark Meadows and the Fake Electors announced their nationwide “Impunity” tour, playing all the classic hits from their previous stymied insurrection, plus new material off the Mid-Decade Redistricting album. No dates are currently planned for Indiana, alas.
Providing security will be Stewart Rhodes, who hopes to get back into the domestic terrorism business, this time leading a cornered, flailing autocrat’s officially sanctioned pet militia.
Meanwhile, Paul Ingrassia’s self-professed “Nazi streak” cost him the nomination to lead the Office of Special Counsel, forcing him to retreat in shame to…a different job in the Trump Administration.
The point is, it’s clearly gonna take a few more blue waves to wash the skidmark of fascism out of the American experiment’s tighty-whities. But between last week’s election results and all recent generic congressional polls, I’m pretty sure we’re up for it.
And if you’re looking for someplace to direct any lingering patriotic fervor from last week’s rout of the enemies of democracy…have I got a comic book for you! It’s a story grounded in our real-world struggles over the future of the nation, with a healthy dose of beating up white supremacists to keep things fun.
The Kickstarter for GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE #1 runs through this coming Thursday, November 20th, 2025, at 7:35 AM CST, so you have less than a week to pledge! We’re right on the threshold of making enough to proceed with issue #2, so if this blog ever helped you laugh through any of our darker days, I sure could use your support.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/general-washington-and-the-liberty-tree?ref=user_menu
And if you don’t want awesome comics, that’s okay, too. The tip jar still accepts Cash App, PayPal, and Venmo, and you can still follow @john_luzar. Stay safe out there, folks!
Blue Waves are the Best Waves, Don'tcha Think? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
There’s very little in life I enjoy more than a cool, refreshing Blue Wave. The soothing spearmint flavor of flipping governorships, ending red state supermajorities, and winning statewide races for the first time in decades freshens breath and rejuvenates the beleaguered American experiment. Ahhhhhhh!
(That’s a relaxed-and-reinvigorated ahhhhhhh, rather than a guttural spasm of primal terror, for the first time in, oh, say, a year?)
Links n’ such, as ever, await here: https://showercapblog.com/blue-waves-are-the-best-waves-dontcha-think/
I guess Project 2025 doesn’t cover what happens when you don’t quite get around to ending democracy before the electorate has a chance to weigh in on your multitudinous failures. Good thing no one frantically implemented a mid-decade gerrymander that relies on a coalition that’s already demonstrably fractured, amirite?
…wait.
Seems like an ideal time for an intraparty slap fight over precisely which minority groups are to be ground beneath the state’s iron boot, and how hard. Sure, Nick Fuentes and his groyper brigade are functionally Nazis, but now that we’ve seen the electoral consequences of repurposing federal law enforcement as Stephen Miller’s personal Make-A-Wish Foundation, can you afford to kick them out of the suddenly spacious tent?
Golly, I’d sure hate to see the fissure in the Heritage Foundation over this issue continue to grow…BEFORE I GET BACK FROM THE CONCESSION STAND WITH A BIG OL’ BUCKET OF POPCORN!
It should be one of those novelty popcorn buckets like they do for the movies, incidentally. You have to reach into Tucker Carlson’s gaping, plastic maw, that kind of thing.
Anyway, NOW WHO’S IN DISARRAY, YOU FASCIST FUCKS?
Aw, I wouldn’t worry; you can always run on your economic record. Sure, October layoffs just hit a 22-year high, but you should be okay so long as nobody celebrates cutting off tens of millions of struggling Americans’ SNAP benefits by throwing themselves a Great Gatsby-themed Halloween party.
Your president doesn’t wanna hear about “the affordability,” America; he’s got a ballroom to build. Having apparently run out of indoor surfaces to desecrate, his pathological gilding has spread to the exterior of the White House. The Oval Office is now helpfully labeled, not that anyone’s been confusing it for a malfunctioning septic tank or anything, where did you hear that?
Still, I imagine he’ll be hearing quite a bit more about “the affordability” since the tariffs keep sending the prices through the roof. And despite his extensive cognitive accolades, he can’t seem to figure out why the lying isn’t working this time.
PRICES ARE DOWN, ACTUALLY, he bleats, pleased with his cleverness. But of course the grocery store charges what it charges. Though I can definitely picture, say, Catturd pitching a fit, demanding to pay $2 for gas until they drag him away.
(Incidentally, please do not lose consciousness during the price bleating, lest your medical emergency intrude upon his precious spotlight.)
So the “Peace President” has his pet Pentagon preparing for war with not just Venezuela but Nigeria as well, because I guess they’re insufficiently appreciative of Two Corinthians over there. Tommy Tuberville seems excited at this prospect, which I suppose is fine…just don’t let him coach the offense. (ZING!)
Hope all this warmongering doesn’t jeopardize his shot at the prestigious FIFA Peace Prize, a very real and coveted honor that definitely wasn’t created solely to feed a single prominent narcissist’s ego. I’m sure the judges will be particularly impressed at his commitment to starving his own constituents.
Yeah, somehow the ol’ approval rating’s fallen even lower than that time he tried to violently overturn that one election he lost, confounding the conventional wisdom that Americans will tolerate more or less anything so long as you give ‘em a shiny new playroom where oligarchs can bribe a rapist.
I suppose the masked, unaccountable paramilitary police force might have something to do with it. I’ve never actually spoken to a political pollster, but were one to seek my opinion of the thugs who refuse to stop tear-gassing little kids in my city, I’d be tempted to strongly disapprove.
As a Chicagoan, I’m living for the day Greggie Bovino’s impunity runs out. Can’t wait to see the little weasel up on the witness stand (we’ll get him a booster seat, of course), stripped of his toys and therefore his swagger, as he’s held accountable for every giddy lie, every broken family, every terrorized child.
Seems a $787.5 million defamation payout wasn’t enough to get the folks over at Fox News to invest in a fact-checking department, though in their defense, if you left a shitty AI TikTok of a Black woman screaming about her “7 different baby daddies” under one of those cartoon traps with a box held up by a stick on a string, you’d catch the entire Murdoch family.
Speaking of Republicans erupting in frenzied hatred over something they misinterpreted on the internet, some high school math teachers in Arizona got deluged with death threats because why would anyone wear a bloody t-shirt on Halloween if not to mock Charlie Kirk’s assassination?
I think everybody who’s mad at Kash Patel for burning through massive stacks of taxpayer money to fly the FBI jet to Nashville to hang out with his country singer ladyfriend will eat crow once they hear the record. I actually got to hear a demo of the lead single, “I Can’t Catch No Assassins Unless Their Daddy Turns Them In.” Reasonably catchy ditty.
Furious that the public learned of his corruption, Kash fired the 27-year FBI veteran overseeing the agency’s pilots, which made him feel like a big, big man, no doubt. I’m sure the replacement will be just as good, or at the very least more willing to accept their salary in kickass challenge coins.
I’m choosing not to dwell on the hypocrisy of 60 Minutes editing a presidential tantrum out of their interview with a certain decomposing septuagenarian, because I think the larger issue was the inability to harvest half an hour’s worth of mental acuity from the available footage.
“Oh, you have no idea who the guy you pardoned is? Even though he’s literally in business with your family to the tune of $2 billion? Cool. Follow-up question: would you say this is a drawing of an elephant or a horsey?”
The vindictive prosecution of James Comey is going so well the insurance lawyer is trying to hide grand jury materials from the defense, but the Reich’s legal incompetence is no laughing matter.
For tonight, a sandwich lobber roams free. How, I ask you, HOW is a brownshirt supposed to drag a teacher from a day care center not knowing from which direction the next hoagie may be flung? My God, what if the bread’s a little stale next time?
Seems like only yesterday Laura Loomer was just another attention-seeking bigot, disrupting Shakespeare in the Park and handcuffing herself to shit, but look at her now: a fully credentialed member of the new Pentagon Press Corps. And if anybody’s looking for a framing device for their Decline and Fall of the United States screenplay, you can have that one for free.
I see the doughy nerd that turned Twitter into a white nationalist playground gets a trillion dollars for tanking an electric car brand, lending further credence to that “life may not be fair” theory I’ve been working on.
Nancy Mace’s mental health journey seems likely to linger on this airport thing until, oh, the heat death of the known universe, give or take. And once upon a time, I thought I lived in a country where an ongoing public breakdown would doom a politician’s quest for higher office, but I know better now.
Anyway.
Something about trouncing fascists at the ballot box fills me with warm, gooey feelings about America. And if you feel the same way, HAVE I GOT A COMIC BOOK FOR YOU!
It’s been said the Tree of Liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants…but who decides which is which?
GENERAL WASHINGTON AND THE LIBERTY TREE imagines a Captain America-like mantle falling under the control of the Trump administration, and explores what it means to fight for truth, justice, and the American way in a country that can’t stop fighting about what those things mean.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthcost/general-washington-and-the-liberty-tree?tab=prelaunch-updates
I wrote this book with readers of this blog in mind, and I do think you’ll dig it. Plus, OH MAN, the middle weeks of a Kickstarter campaign are…humbling. It’s been, um, quiet the last few days, so if you want your pledge to have MAXIMUM IMPACT on Cap’s battered self-esteem, pledge NOW.
Plus, if you missed my earlier comics, you can get ‘em here! And of course the beer fund (accepting, as ever, Cash App, PayPal, and Venmo) remains open. Okay, that’s all I got, friends. Stay safe out there!
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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 06:48 PMNumber of posts: 710