I'll Say I've Certainly Enjoyed Other Debates More (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, I won’t keep you long, I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to the funnest news cycle of all time. It’s doomscroller’s delight out there on the information superhighway, an all-you-can-eat buffet of sky-is-falling thinkpiecery, and admittedly…the sky has seemed stabler.
(Git it with links n’ shit: https://showercapblog.com/ill-say-ive-certainly-enjoyed-other-debates-more/)
If I had to pick a favorite debate, I think I could comfortably rule this one out. Honestly, I’ve always sincerely preferred the lightly satiric jousting between the so-called Left and Right Twix camps.
What happens next is above my pay grade, but with God as my witness, by right of my self-deputized authority as a drunken buffoon in a superhero bathrobe and luchador mask, shooting his fool mouth off online, I hereby seize control of Th’Narrative, if only for the few minutes it takes you, gentle reader, to work through the week’s chroniclin’.
Because I’ve always believed our not-so-secret weapon in this fight is the inescapable truth that our opponents are turd-worshipping losers who fuck up 98.7% of the endeavors they attempt. And this week, like every week, they found a bunch of rakes, often in bizarre, out-of-the-way corners where one wouldn’t expect to encounter a rake, and they stepped right on them.
And we should laugh at them for that.
Like, God knows the pundits’re having too much fun to tell you about it, but the abovementioned deified turd spent the debate ranting like a Three Percenter getting kicked out of Denny’s at 3 in the morning, reminding America of his radioactive stances on issues ranging from bodily autonomy to treasonous mob violence.
Sixteen Nobel Prize-winning economists warn this adjudicated rapist’s economic proposals would touch off a new inflation crisis, in case anybody was considering entrusting any economies to a guy who bankrupted casinos. Small army of Nobel winners on one side; rapist who can neither hold a liquor license in New Jersey nor close an umbrella unaided on the other. C’mon, America. There’re dogs on TikTok that could work this one out.
(Look, if you absolutely insist on worshipping a turd, pick one who can legally obtain a liquor license in New Jersey. This particular turd cannot, on account of all the felony convictions.)
I’m not sure which Nobel category would be responsible for denouncing the proposed migrant fighting league, but how hard could it be to drum up a variety from across the entire spectrum? “Really good physicists AND really good novelists agree: atrocity as entertainment is a bad idea” kinda thing. I think a calling tree might make sense, because so many of his ideas are equally idiotic/appalling, (though remember, he didn’t tell us to drink bleach, just inject disinfectant) so there’ll be plenty of denouncing to go around.
I’ll handle this next one: I officially denounce this mediocre messiah’s vainglorious crucifixion fantasies, on the grounds that the image he conjures, of himself, shirtless and covered with “wounds,” would trigger even H.R. Giger’s gag reflex. Wounds? Sores, maybe. Perhaps one small scratch, from Ivanka fending off his sexual advances.
Imagine the obscene religious art hanging in the MAGA museum, a century from now, if it turns out there are just enough Cornel West voters in the Rust Belt to plunge us back into darkness. The Passion of the Dotard, Titian meets Ben Garrison, as interpreted by some cut-rate, Musk-financed AI, the paint somehow reeking of Chicken McNugget dipping sauces and hooker pee.
Turd Midas worked his magic in Tuesday’s primaries, when the wild-eyed throng of syphilitic freaks he endorsed proved too batshit for even the brainwashed wad o’ weirdos that comprise the Republican primary electorate.
In Utah, the candidate from the Romney stables out-dressaged the Trump entrant by nearly 20 points, proving once and for all that milquetoast is thicker than horse paste.
Alas, howling sex pest Lauren Boebert’s low effort carpetbagging scheme paid off, and it looks as though she’ll be able to hang onto her seat at the (sigh) federal lawmaking table, no doubt owing to the superior grip strength she so famously demonstrated in the district she fled in shame.
Speaker Moses Johnson assembled a crack squadron of insurrectionist legislators to break Steve Bannon out of prison. Team demolitions expert James Comer was telling our correspondent how he was preparing for the mission, by ingesting small but increasing doses of various household poisons, in order to build what immunity he could to the unknowable excretions Bannon would surely discharge in such a high-stress situation, when a small explosive device he had forgotten about detonated in his pants pocket, necessitating hospitalization.
The Supreme Court did uphold Bannon’s incarceration, as a little treat, amidst acts of general rat-bastardry. Maybe it’s best to focus on the rights they’ve let us keep. The other day a bunch of soldiers demanded quartering of me, but I didn’t feel like folding the laundry on the sofa, so I called Sam Alito up, and he shooed them right away.
Well, it took several solid weeks of relentless public shaming plus an official spanking by the United States Army, but Texas Congresscreep Troy Nehls finally returned that valor he stole, without a receipt, though I’m told he tried to get another medal of equal or lesser valor in exchange. He was willing to settle for store credit, but all they could spare were these shitty, gold, loser shoes, which he accepted. “I like the way they bring out the sycophancy in my complexion,” Nehls squeaked, before ceasing to exist as an individual in any meaningful way.
Deep state commie RINO cuck Adam Kinzinger re-betrayed his nation and all efforts to make it Great Again, blasphemously placing country above death cult by endorsing some old guy without a single felony conviction and honestly I don’t know why you’re not outside his house with a nail gun right now.
I apologize for bringing him up. To wash away the taste of his treachery most foul, allow me to offer a heartwarming update on that great American grifter, Mike Flynn, who has found room to engorge not only himself, but several family members, at the seemingly infinite MAGA donor hog trough.
(For a limited time, you can purchase an NFT of Mike spending your money, on shoes, firearms, barnyard animal pornography…collect the entire set!!)
With no autogolpe to fumble through, seems the Trump transition team has plenty of time to compile purge lists of civil servants deemed insufficiently likely to assist extraconstitutional power grabs. Yeah, the fashy little shits’ll be much better prepared next time, if there is a next time. It might take them as little as a week and a half to find the light switches.
Here’s one for my alien anthropologist peeps, excavating the wreckage of our doomed, ridiculous civilization in the probably-not-particularly-distant future, trying to figure out just how the human race stupided itself into premature extinction:
“A Maricopa County election worker with a Truth Social account who has repeatedly posted pro-Trump content from Catturd, Gateway Pundit, Epoch Times & other right-wingers has been arrested for stealing equipment from a voting tabulation center.”
Explain that to somebody who fell into a coma in shock at the sight of the Comey letter in 2016. “No, this is society now, bro. Something that happens is people listen to guys named “Catturd” so hard that their brains break and they commit these enormous, anti-democracy crimes. Happens literally all the time, bro. Go back to sleep. Take me with you.”
With all the (gestures wearily), I admit I take comfort in the steady stream of fresh Proud Boy arrests. Isn’t that nice background noise? Every few weeks another domestic terrorist gets plucked off the streets, and the news story links to a Facebook post of the guy sticking Steny Hoyer’s stapler up his ass, so you know he’s totally fucked, legally…yeah, can’t get enough of that stuff.
Love me some rule of law, don’t you? We should keep that shit around.
I figure if we hang onto the rule of law, and beer, we’ll be able to get ourselves back on track. It’ll take a lot of beer, but I’m willing to pull my weight. Especially right now. I require several drinks, is what I’m saying.
And I shall have them. I plan on testing the beer fridge’s limits this weekend, so all donations to the restocking fund (which, as you may’ve heard someplace, now accepts PayPal, Cash App, and Venmo) are welcome, though if it comes to chugging Listerine…I’m not proud.
Otherwise, @john_luzar is where I lurk on Elon’s broken plaything, and I always feel special when the email list at showercapblog.com grows. As ever, I hope you’ve found some way to remain safe out there, my friend…
OH, P.S.
Already reeling from the AI incursion, the comedy world could naught but tremble in submission as a brand new titan bestrode the landscape, blotting out the very sun with its brilliance. While I have been honored by your gracious attention throughout the years, I’ll understand when you’re not here next week. How could I hope to compete with the voice of a generation? How could you not leave me for…The New Norm Show?
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Bedbug sores.
