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Member since: Fri Mar 24, 2017, 07:48 PM
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In the Future, "Giuliani" Will Mean "A Public Breakdown During Which One Betrays One's Country"

After four years in Hell, I am pleased to report the bastards have, despite their best efforts, failed to grind me down. In fact, there’s a spring in my step today, because since we last met, Dear Reader, I’ve had the distinct pleasure of voting for Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr. and Kamala Devi Harris. It’s an intoxicating experience, full-bodied and refreshing, with hints of longed-for spiritual renewal and Nazis getting punched. I recommend it.

(Hey, you know by now to click here to get this shit with links n’ such: http://showercapblog.com/in-the-future-the-word-giuliani-will-mean-a-humiliating-public-breakdown-during-which-one-betrays-ones-country/)

I’m afraid we have to talk quite a bit about Rudy Giuliani tonight, as America’s least favorite incest aficionado chose this week to ride, perched atop a bronze horse purloined from a downed Confederate monument, to his Turd Emperor’s rescue, a shitty, treasonous, self-immolating, one-man jagoff cavalry.

“The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming,” bellowed Amerikkka’s Mayor, “I would know, I’m working for 'em! Anyway, here’s some long-ago debunked propaganda straight from the Kremlin!” and so, armed with some ridiculous story about an inebriated Hunter Biden abandoning a laptop overflowing with incriminating evidence with an...oh, let’s call him “eccentric” computer repairman, Rudy set out to make the world understand he’s not fucking around with this whole Betraying America thing.

Now, the intelligence community gets what’s going on here and they’re blowing every whistle in sight, not that it’s some big secret, you can see the crook of Putin’s elbow coming out of Rudy’s ass in every ranting media appearance, but Trenchmouth McCousinfucker’s problems hardly end there; he’s also posting videos of himself being hellaciously racist while his own daughter trashes his shitty politics in a Vanity Fair op-ed endorsing Biden.

Anyway, Rudy is one of the very worst Americans of all time, and if I ever seem to tire of watching him rub shit all over his own face in what has been a very public decline and fall, please understand that means my heart has stopped beating.

I don’t like writing about Barron Trump, but let me just say that a man who recklessly infects his own child with a potentially lethal disease for absolutely no good reason is not someone you would hire to run a goddamn Sunglass Hut, let alone a nation. Maybe a small one. Liechtenstein, you can have him for...I dunno, for ten bucks worth of whatever Liechtenstein makes. You have to take Eric, too, though. And Stephen Miller.

ANYWAY maybe this is the rare instance of Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet actually practicing what he preaches, because boy howdy, he sure does want you to catch COVID-19. Murderous dumbass is still, STILL pushing the just-shy-of-genocidal idea of herd immunity; I assume his eventual presidential library will be a pair of wire spinner racks in the middle of a mass grave.

I mean, look at the deteriorating fuck’s new favorite lie: that 85% of mask-wearers catch Covid. After catching and spreading it himself, precisely because he won’t let people wear masks around him. (You may need time to scream here. I did.) Donald Trump has worked harder and more effectively on behalf of the fucking coronavirus than he ever has for the American people. Mr. President, at long last, will you PLEASE STOP KILLING US?

Oh, and by the way, a newly unearthed memo reveals the Die Plebs Die Administration graciously gave the Wall Street elite the real truth about the pandemic while lying tens of thousands of us peasants into early graves, allowing the already-wealthy to profit off the very tragedy President Crotchrot refused to prevent. Populism sure is weird, huh?

I still don’t have anything to say about the Amy Coney Barrett hearings*. There is truly no more useless lump of empty ceremony than a SCOTUS confirmation...Senate Republicans pretend this theocrat loon isn’t going to do all the things she’s being specifically hired to do, imagining they’re fooling people. Well, quite a few of these out-of-touch, power-mad plutocrats are about to learn a very important lesson about ignoring the people’s will, and hey, maybe that can be a valuable experience they can bring to the jobs they’re going to be looking for come November 4th.

Bless his cowardly, enabling, little heart, Nebraska Senator Ben Sasse seems to think Trumpstink washes off. Yes, after four years of active participation in an anti-democracy crime spree, from the Kiddie Koncentration Kamps to his oath-betraying impeachment vote, young Benjamin seems to believe redemption is a mere shake of the Etch A Sketch away. I assure you, sir, it is not.

Let us be honest about what you have done, Republicans, and what you have allowed yourselves to become. Yes, I understand you don’t want to talk about it. We’re going to talk about it anyway.

Even Susan Collins, whose Rational Moderate mask is slipping off so fast I assume she’s run afoul of Scooby-Doo and Shaggy, is funneling campaign cash to the next generation of up-n-coming QAnon-addled Republican candidates.

Not to be outdone, Unelected Grifter Kelly Loeffler, under siege from both left and right, is clinging to her new BFF (that’s “Batshit Fucking Fanatic”), Marjorie Taylor Greene, an absolute psychopath set to bring her twin passions for conspiracy theories and unapologetic bigotry to the United States House of Representatives next January. As a member of the Grand Old Party.

YOUR party, Senator Romney. Even by whatever definition of “antifa” you clowns are using this week, this is not happening in our party. Shove this condescending “both sides” statement up your ass, next to the last one. For the love of God, Willard, just shut the fuck up.

That’s the future of the Republican Party, right there, in that mad embrace...Loeffler and Taylor Greene, hackery and hate. For a seat in the United States Senate. Heaven help us.

And heaven help the poor, deluded, “rational” Republicans, who think they can wrestle their party out of these slavering hyenas’ jaws. Like, when Larry Hogan gets in front of one of these mobs and tries this lame “Well, I voted for RONALD REAGAN” shtick, they’re going to tear him limb from limb.

Speaking of which, while we laugh at the bungling incompetence, it’s always chilling when Hairplug Himmler’s thirst for violence manifests at his little hate rallies, never more so than earlier this week, in North Carolina, when he boasted of ordering U.S. Marshals to carry out the extrajudicial killing of a suspect in Portland, and y’know, Joe already had me with his platform and resumé, but I also like the way he doesn’t view federal law enforcement as his own private death squad.

(Hey, I don’t know who still needs to hear this, but Cult45 wants this violence more than any perpetually-delayed health care plan. Just a lil’ pro tip.)

Well, thanks to the National Broadcasting Company’s insatiable appetite for abuse, America was treated to dueling town halls Thursday night. Strawberry Shartcake needed a miracle, instead he’s dealing with headlines like Sweaty Orangutan in Ill-Fitting Suit Refuses to Denounce QAnon, and whining about the meanie-pants moderator, because he is a braindead fuckup who cannot do one thing right.

In contrast, Joe Biden was calm, empathetic, wonky, and oh my god so refreshingly boring and normal. Shartworld surrogates sneeringly derided his performance as Mr.-Rogers-like, which is the sort of thing one expects to hear from board meetings at the Hall of Doom, not presidential campaigns. Generally speaking, one seeks to be the more Fred Rogersesque candidate in the race, and if you’re invoking that name derisively, you’re probably, y’know...evil.

Ol’ Handsome Joe seems to have won the ratings war too, and having failed at the one metric that matters most to you, Dotard, may I recommend ritual suicide? It doesn’t have to be ritual, honestly. I can mail you, like, a wrench, if it helps.

Because he is a petty, vindictive skidmark of a man who despises most Americans, President Gas Station Urinal Cake actually attempted to refuse the state of California’s request for emergency relief following a particularly devastating series of wildfires. If I can segue over to a lil’ civics lesson real quick, the Electoral College is this really awesome system where millions of American citizens can be abandoned to suffering and death by a petulant chief executive who seeks to punish them for supporting his opponent. Nice job, Founding Fathers!

Also, I see the President of the United States got duped by an obvious satire site today, but I’m sure he’s just killin’ it in those trade negotiations with China, right?

Oh look, Senator David Perdue is the latest Republican official to be Extremely Racist in Public, that’s entirely unsurprising, though his craven attempt to have it both ways is kinda funny, in a “look at the little weasel squirm” sort of way. Let’s fire this smarmy fuck, huh?

Christ, I’m tired. Forgive me if I missed anything, I need the weekend. Neeeeeeed. If you haven’t checked out the Kickstarter for my new comic book, that’s a thing you oughta do. You’ll dig it.


And there’s still time to donate to our awesome House and Senate candidates, in fact, the ol’ Fascist-Flushing Action Guide just rolled past the $30,000 mark, which fills me with the warmest of fuzzies. I thank you. Stay safe, Resisters, and get ready for the home stretch.


*Except that my first impulse is always to type Amy COMEY Barrett, on account of that one fella. You remember, the one who ruined the entire world? 

Plague, Voter Suppression, and Willard Romney's Thoughts on Tone (Ferret/Shower Cap)

October, 2020. I never thought it would actually come. Things are fairly insane, as we knew they’d be, but I admit I’m pleasantly surprised by the relative lack of signs which could be construed as compatible with the End Times mythology of any major world religion. Have I lowered my standards for what constitutes “good news” after four years of incessant fascist fuckery? Yes I have. Unapologetically.

(As always, with color n’ links: http://showercapblog.com/plague-voter-suppression-and-willard-romneys-thoughts-on-tone/)

Honestly, it’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately, with President Flea on a Plague Rat’s Anus cowering in his bunker, too ill to appear in public save for a single, steroid-fueled 18-minute balcony appearance on Saturday, attended by a humiliatingly tiny assemblage of nitwits literally paid to be there by spittle-spouting maniac Candace Owens, in spite of an invited guest list numbering in the thousands. Congratulations, Littlefinger, you’re officially in the REO Speedwagon Playing the South Dakota State Fair phase of your Rise and Fall of Dipshit Hitler story.

All recent attention-seeking stunts have failed, and backing out of the second debate in a fit of pique looks more and more like the biggest self-own since “turning the checkbook over to Brad Parscale.” Even a planned emergence from Walter Reed, initially feigning weakness before revealing a hidden Superman t-shirt, failed to materialize. Me, I’d have liked to’ve seen that. I imagine it would’ve been the Ark-of-the-Covenant-burns-the-swastika-off-the-crate scene in reverse.

Endorsements are understandably hard to come by when you’ve fucked up damn near every single thing that’s even remotely fuckupable. In fact, somewhere around the 200,000th preventable death, even traditionally non-political institutions like Scientific American start lining up behind your opponent. Yes, it’s lonely in Shartopia these days, outside of one lonely ol’ endorsement from...the Taliban. Yes, THAT Taliban. Hey, if you’re still undecided after all the disease and death and economic ruin, may I humbly suggest opposing the wishes of the motherfucking TALIBAN?

We all understand why Dr. Anthony Fauci is the most trusted and popular member of the current administration: he tells us the truth while everyone around him lies. This explains the insidious propaganda shell game the Turd Reich is currently attempting with America’s Handsomest Epidemiologist, seeking to benefit from that trust by using deceptively-edited footage of him in their campaign ads, while simultaneously blocking him from media appearances, lest that trademark honesty undercut Boss Turdmaggot’s “Covid, Schmovid” closing message. Pretty gross, but then, we are dealing with the very worst people alive.

The polling is getting brutal for the failed Republican Party, and with millions of dollars in grassroots donations flowing into as many as half a dozen unexpectedly competitive Senate races, conservatives are taking a long, hard look at where they went wrong, and what changes need to be made to win back the public’s trust JUST KIDDING they are, as always, doing everything in their power to suppress the right to vote, because white supremacy ain’t gonna de-institutionalize itself without a fight, my friends.

And so we’re seeing hours-long lines, but only in Dem-leaning precincts, especially those with high concentrations of non-white voters. The steady, regular reoccurrence of this zaniest of coincidences is difficult to explain, in light of John Roberts’ proclamation that the Voting Rights Act is no longer necessary on account of racism being over and all. Gosh, it sure would be a shame if the highest court in the land was in the business of spewing disingenuous bullshit in order to enshrine minority rule, wouldn’t it?

Meanwhile, California Republicans have taken to setting up their own completely unauthorized, most likely illegal ballot drop boxes, and Democrats are crying foul, but I ask you, what has the party that tried to sabotage the entire U.S Postal Service, seeking to keep Americans from voting safely during a pandemic, done to earn such distrust?

I confess I haven’t paid particularly close attention to the Amy Coney Barrett hearings; true crime has never been my favorite genre, and anyway, as a failed stage actor, I’ve consumed more than my share of self-righteous, masturbatory, political theatre.

Nothing screams “legitimacy” like the GODC’s (that’s “Grand Old Death Cult”) refusal to submit to coronavirus testing before these hearings, up to and including CDC guideline-violating Senators Mike Lee and Thom Tillis, who you’ll remember tested positive a short while ago, and may very well be spreading a lethal virus to their colleagues via their maskless rants. Or maybe horseshit, belched up in sufficient volume, kills Covid, who knows?

They refuse to take coronavirus tests because they know they’re likely to test positive, which would necessitate postponing the hearings until after the American people have voted to remove them from power, because they believe they have the right to inflict their disastrously failed ideology on the nation whether the nation wants it or not. They’ve crashed the economy twice in my lifetime, they’ve gotten nearly a quarter of a million Americans killed through their unforgivable pandemic mismanagement, they’ve stood silent while their party was taken over by an increasingly authoritarian, increasingly violent hate mob, and yet they truly believe they deserve this stolen 11th-hour veto over all potential progress for decades to come.

...but Democrats must observe “norms” going forward, right? Actually, how ‘bout a big fat sloppy NAH to that, campers? I honestly don’t think Yertle and his merry band of plutocrat puppets understand how four years of Trump, coupled with their own despised overreaching, have changed the electorate. During the Kavanaugh hearings, Lindsey Graham, with all the righteous indignation of a dime store Elmer Gantry, launched his famous “FUCK Christine Blasey Ford and FUCK her allegations, eat shit, we don’t care” jeremiad and somehow he still hasn’t made the connection to the mass exodus of women from his party.

Seriously, Lindsey has spent his current term almost exclusively doing things the American people have rather loudly stated they do not want him to do, and he’s somehow baffled that Jaime Harrison has raised enough money to rent Max Scherzer for a couple seasons. These clowns are so out of touch, it’s scary.

Meanwhile, Willard Romney chose this moment in time, when he is in the process of granting a lifetime SCOTUS appointment to the very shitweasel he recently voted to remove from office over high crimes and misdemeanors, to issue a whinging, pearl-clutching statement decrying the Incivility in Politics These Days, dripping with enough mendacious bothsidesism to drown Chuck Todd.

Y’know what, you feckless, dog-torturing haircut? Now that I’ve seen the words of YOUR party’s leader in the manifestos of multiple mass-murderers, you don’t get to claim Both Sides Are the Same Because Keith Olbermann anymore.

We will not be lectured by you anymore, thief. You have been exposed. You are transparent now. You are entirely without morals of any kind. We’ve seen your deeds, Mittens, you may as well save the words, they don’t fool anybody anymore. You and your craven colleagues are just a gang of power-mad theocrats looking to impose your will without the consent of the governed, through procedural chicanery, and yeah, that’s all you ever were, but soooooo many more folks’re paying attention now, and I don’t think you understand that yet.

Huh. I never imagined I’d post a blog this short this close to Election Day, but what can I do, Sultan Spraytan has been incapacitated. He did manage to accuse Joe Biden of murdering Seal Team Six, so, y’know...I appreciate the effort to maintain expected levels of cray-cray while bedridden and glued to the talking teevee box.

Anyway, the Kickstarter for my new comic book, MINE is up n’ running for another two weeks! Have I mentioned the special rewards tier for fans of this blog? For a reasonable fee, you’ll get not only a kickass comic, but a letter written to a politician of your choice, on an issue of your choice, in the Shower Cap Blog house style! Mitch McConnell was a popular target last time, and I certainly haven’t grown weary of swearing at him yet.


And don’t forget about the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide! We’ve raised nearly $30,000 for Dem House and Senate candidates so far, and I thank y’all for making a drunken loon in a luchador mask n’ bathrobe feel like he’s pulling his weight in this fight. There’s still time to pitch in!


...and there’s still time to drink tonight, for which I am really quite grateful. I don’t expect the quiet to last, Resisters, but I’ll enjoy it while I can. Rest up, we’ll be needed soon... 

This Week in Hell: Donald Trump, Lindsey Graham, and Other Diseased Rats (Ferret/Shower Cap)

God, we’re so close. We’ve known all along it would get worse at the end, as this human skidmark lashes out with all his might, backed by the terrifying power of the American Presidency. We knew it would suck, and HOLY BALLS IT SUCKS SO VERY, VERY HARD, but I think I got over the hump today. Just now, actually. I can see the finish line. I can make it through the home stretch. COME AT ME, NEWS, I can fuckin’ take ya, is what I’m saying.

(yadda yadda yadda link to blog with news links: http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-donald-trump-lindsey-graham-and-other-diseased-rats/)

So, let’s be honest. The President of the United States, already a stupid, craven, venal twerp, warped by hatred and debilitated by his own narcissism, has finally, from a combination of age, stress, illness, fear of prison, and the mingling of god knows what drugs prescribed at Walter Reed with whatever black market cocktail he’s gobbling out of the medicine cabinet back home, lost his motherfucking mind.

I mean, I got to the same place, sanity-wise, without the benefit of experimental medication, just by keeping up with all this garbage, but whatever.

Rod Rosenstein has been walking this ethical tightrope in the public eye for what feels like forever, and, uh, yeah, that was all for nothing, bro. Turns out Rowdy Roddy teamed up with his old boss, Jeff “Too Racist for the 80’s” Sessions, to orchestrate and implement one of the greatest evils of the Turd Reich, the child separation policy. All those self-righteous contortions, and you’re just one more monster among monsters in the end. This is your place in the history books, Rod. You earned it.

Redactor General William Barr quietly, insidiously rolled back long-standing Justice Department policies that prohibit prosecutors from interfering in elections, so if any enterprising young fascist feels like screaming HUNTER BIDEN KILLED CHRIST in a bid for a spot commanding a concentration camp of your very own in the new world to come, well, understand your dirtbag boss isn’t likely to get less desperate as the walls close in.

There’s no Comey letter in your quiver this time, Billy Boy. I’ve seen the inside of your quiver, you’re down to rat turds and one Oliver Queen-style boxing glove. You made your choices. You had your fun. The party’s over and the law is at the door. Sucks to be you.

In a skeevy moment of offhanded weaselry that perfectly captured the pure, unfettered, shitty rich kidness of the man, President Gas Station Urinal Cake actually tried to blame his coronavirus infection on a visiting group of Gold Star families, I guess because he was worried the electorate didn’t fully understand what a revolting little punk he is. A cursory look at the timeline reveals the transmission threat almost certainly flowed in the other direction; a perfect, maggot-gnawed maraschino cherry for this particular turd sundae.

Well, Mike Pants entered the Vice Presidential debate tasked with achieving what a billion wasted dollars couldn’t: making a case for the re-election of his homicidally incompetent administration that wouldn’t make the American people laugh derisively/roll their eyes/run him out of town on a rail. He left the subject of derision and memes after being upstaged by a fly that briefly considered taking up permanent residence in his demonic scalp, before ultimately flying away, unable to bear the stench.

I mean, Kamala was always gonna kick Mikey Hairshirt’s theocrat ass, but I confess I don’t understand why a campaign looking down the business end of a historic gender gap figured a droning old white dude talking over two women for 90 minutes would pull them out of the cartoon quicksand pit they’ve all but disappeared into.

Let’s explore the week’s events with a little cause n’ effect, shall we? Because Donald Trump was too stupid to take simple precautions, he caught COVID-19. Because he caught COVID-19, the Commission on Presidential Debates decided the second debate couldn’t be held in person, on account of the President’s COMMUNICABLE DISEASE. Because Typhoid Donnie is a blowhard and a coward, he backed out of that debate. Because this is not Joe Biden’s first rodeo, he said “Well, you enjoy yourself at home, Second Place, I’ll just do a prime time town hall without you.” And now Wee Don has lost access to one of the two largest remaining audiences available to his flailing campaign as the pages of calendar turn. Any questions?

Getting back to that futile billion for a minute, though the campaign coffers are now so bare that the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus has pulled ads from must-win swing states (though I imagine Shitty Evita’s checks still arrive on time), Gameshow Göring has discovered a brand-new source of funding: YOUR POCKET! Yes, the very same executive branch that STILL refuses to take the simple steps necessary to contain the coronavirus outbreak, like implementing a national testing strategy for example, is working overtime to get their pathetic $200 bribe for seniors out the door.

Now, who’s on the hook for this SEVEN BILLION DOLLAR donation to the Trump campaign? Why you and me, of course, the dumb cuck American taxpayer! Needless to say, this won’t work any better than that time he tried to sneak his shitty little signature onto the initial stimulus checks...a lousy $200 payoff for the entirety of 20frickin’20? That’s like a nickel per atrocity, fuck you.

They say life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans, and if you don’t believe me, just ask the members of the Trump-inspired white nationalist terror cell who currently find themselves behind bars rather than working out the finer points of their plot to kidnap and execute Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

Now, I acknowledge we live in times of unprecedented division, but surely we can still muster a grudging bipartisan handshake over a statement as non-controversial as “terrorism is bad,” right? It’s not like we’re some third-world shithole where increasingly violent religious sects openly fund child soldiers who murder their perceived political foes or anything, RIGHT?

Like, I don’t if you’ve been paying attention, but ever since Weehands McNodick took his Pokémon Go game to Lafayette Square and said, “I choose YOU, fascist crackdown!” things have changed, and he’s not hiding his despotic impulses anymore. So yeah, not only did he refuse to condemn these would-be murderers, he actually attacked Whitmer, going so far as to approvingly parrot the terrorists’ point of view. If anything, he’s pissed off that there’re thirteen fewer thugs available to “stand back and stand by” for his inevitable call to violence.

On the white-collar side of the white nationalist crime syndicate that is the Trump/McConnell Republican Party, fundraiser Elliott Broidy is America’s Next Top Felon, anyway, I believe we were having a discussion about who the “law and order” candidate is?

Now, I don’t think Mike Lee gets the same top-shelf shit his Turd Emperor has access to at Walter Reed, but let me just say that if the COVID-infected Utah Senator’s casual anti-Democratic musings are not, in fact, the result of ingesting hallucinogens, then he goes on the Never For One Second Take Your Eyes Off These Fascist Jags list with Tom Cotton and Josh Hawley.

The Shart House Covid outbreak has gotten so severe that Mitch McConnell said he’d rather obey the will of the American public than visit Donald Trump’s Plague Pit at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. It sure is fun that folks are afraid to set foot near the People’s House because doing so puts you at extremely high risk of a lonely, painful death. I mean, I dunno if anybody is still looking for blindingly obvious symbolism, but it’s here if you want it.

Though the Manchurian Manchild remained too ill to appear live on camera this week (Did you think we wouldn’t notice? We noticed.) his presence remained as oppressively inescapable as ever, as manifested by a never-ending deluge of batshit tweets and a series of deranged phone-in interviews with all of his favorite safe spaces: Fux, Hannity, Limbaugh...there’s neither time nor room to document all the raw lunacy that dropped, turd-like, from Fat Q*bert pinched sphincter mouth during these mad little chats, and I have too much respect for you to poison your mind with inane Chris Cillizza (but I repeat myself) listicles, but among other drooling nonsense, he seems intent on resurrecting his debunked “Obamagate” conspiracy theory, which won’t win him any votes, but hey, it’ll keep Ron Johnson busy.

Oh, and of course he isn’t shy about proclaiming himself Cured of Coronavirus and Functionally Immortal, Prolly, deceitfully promising to order the U.S. military to deliver his unproven, experimental, million-dollar miracle cure to the American people free of charge. The pestilential creep actually tried to get back on the campaign trail, promising rallies during what even the Ronny Jacksons and Sean Conleys of the world would admit is still within the What Part of “Extremely Contagious” is Giving You Trouble, Bro? period of his illness.   

Turmoil in Shartopia as President Crotchrot lashes out at the underlings who never quite managed to turn the USA into the police state of his dreams. Bilious Bill earned a special blast of Adderall-infused ire when he announced the findings of his bullshit investigation into the origins of the Russia probe will not, in fact, deliver the Wikileaks reunion tour Government Cheese Goebbels so desperately needs. Did you expect loyalty, William, for being such an enthusiastic henchmen? Bless your fascist heart.

Y’know, I was starting to get pretty confident, almost cocky, about our chances on November 3rd, but then I saw Chief Thuglomat Mike Pompeo announce he’s gettin’ ready to release a fresh trove of HILLARY’S E-MAILS, and hey, democracy had a good run, but they’ve outplayed us fair and square. It looked like it was gonna be a coronavirus election there for a minute, but how can nine months of entirely avoidable mayhem and suffering and death hope to compete with Hillary Clinton’s godforsaken e-mails?

Ummmm...what else? The Failing New York Times uncovered yet another massive Trump financial crime, and while that kinda stuff has trouble breaking through in these days of stochastic terrorism and steroid-fueled mental breakdowns, to me, this is just one more indicator that Strawberry Shartcake’s post-presidency will be spent in courtrooms and prison cells, watching his ill-gotten fortune get whittled away to nothing by lawsuit after lawsuit, until he dies, destitute and despised, with even Steve Bannon refusing to return his texts.

I see Lindsey Graham tried to back out of his debate with Jaime Harrison rather than take a coronavirus test, because while he has absolutely, 100% been exposed to contagious carriers, he would rather risk the lives of everyone around him than endanger his party’s shitbag ploy to steal one last Supreme Court seat before everybody gets (justly) fired. That thing about power corrupting? I dunno who came up with that, but I think they’re onto something.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. See that, you Nazi fucks? Four years you’ve been flooding the zone with a tidal wave of shit, hoping to wear us down. Well, we haven’t worn down, motherfuckers. We got through it. We got through the four years, we got through the Category 7 shitstorm of the last two weeks, and we’ll get through whatever you throw at us over the next 24 days. You’re finished.

Hey, there’s still time to check out the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide, where you can donate to our great House and Senate candidates. And yes, the Kickstarter for my next comic book, MINE, is up n’ running as well! I’ll promote ‘em both harder next week when I’m not so fucking exhausted. Stay safe out there, Resisters. 



Everything Still Sucks, But at Least the Worst People Alive Are Getting COVID (Ferret/Shower Cap)

Sometimes I see the kids on the internet say someone is “having a normal one” when actually that someone is behaving highly abnormally, usually in a Look at This Screeching Freak sort of way. So when I say “the news is having a normal one,” I actually mean quite the opposite; it’s a festive bit of contemporary slang, you see.

(Find this post, with news links and lord knows what else, here: http://showercapblog.com/everything-still-sucks-but-at-least-the-worst-people-alive-are-getting-covid/)

Well, that was one helluva weekend, waiting to see whether or not karma was really gonna take this Murderously Incompetent Fascist Idiot problem off our hands, wasn’t it? Probably the best thing about being Shower Cap right now is that I don’t have to pretend I’m not cheerleading for Hairplug Himmler’s demise. Folks, every single time a Nazi dies, it’s a good thing, because there’s one less Nazi in the world.

Team Treasonweasel went straight to work doing the one thing they do best: destroying their own credibility. The expected obfuscating press conference from Donnie Dotard’s doctors (and this Conley guy is a regular Sarah Slanders in a lab coat) provided a comforting facsimile of our regular White House gaslighting sessions, but the addition of a sweaty, panicked Mark Meadows, screaming OFF THE RECORD THE SKY IS FALLING was inspired.

Point is, whatever the fuck is going on with Old Man Poosquirt’s health, nobody trusts the government to be even marginally honest about it. Life under fascism sure is fun and relaxing!

One way or another, it seems he took a fistful (and a real fistful, by the way, not a tiny, inadequate, Trump fistful) of experimental drugs (none of which are hydroxychloroquine, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!) and needed supplemental oxygen plus somebody suggesting doing a brain transplant with an orangutan just to see if anybody’d notice.

Well, nobody wants Tangerine Idi Amin to make a speedy recovery and a safe return to the desk with the pardon forms in it more than Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, who has been accused by members of his own office of various acts of bribery, abuse of power, and other naughtiness-adjacent behaviors. I mention this in case you forgot, amidst all the shitty hospital drama, that the entire Republican Party, coast-to-coast, is hopelessly, irredeemably corrupt, and must be destroyed.

If they weren’t all shitbags working on behalf of a monster, I’d feel sorry for Sharty McFly’s surrogates, but they are, so I don’t. Still, it can’t be easy trying to spin “Absolute Dumbass Dumbasses Himself Into Hospital With COVID-19,” but attempting to deride Handsome Joe Biden over his comparative lack of “firsthand experience” was such perfect coloring book Orwell hooey I honestly had to applaud.

And whose heart wasn’t warmed by the return of that beloved old chestnut, President Crotchvoid Tries to Appear Busy By Signing Blank Sheets of Paper?

Anyhow, as a frothy stew of steroids and Adderall gurgled and boiled inside the Cadbury Creme Egg he calls a brain, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot suddenly decided the last remaining obstacle to American greatness was the overabundance of healthy Secret Service agents, and so he ordered several of the human beings who risk their lives for him daily into a hermetically sealed SUV with his contagious ass so he could take himself a little Sunday evening drive to say hi to what was frankly an embarrassingly small crowd for a hospitalized President.

I don’t believe Joe Biden has a tab on his issues page that specifically deals with How Much Human Suffering Are You Willing to Inflict for a Self-Aggrandizing Photo Opp, but, here as elsewhere, I trust him to be an upgrade over the incumbent.

Even though the entire fucking world has seen the housewarming party they threw for COVID-19, the Superspreader Administration is actually obstructing the CDC from conducting contact tracing, which is...pretty much murder, y’know? It’s a thing they could easily do, but while it would save lives, it would almost certainly lead to more embarrassing headlines for the Emperor of Hemorrhoids, and therefore, all those savable lives must be lost. Obscene.

And there’s no shortage of the embarrassing headlines anyway, as the Trump/Coney Barrett corona cannon keeps right on spreadin’ disease through the highest halls of power. Fat Q*bert’s body man has it. Kayleigh McEnany and her entire dang staff have it, and now even the Joint Chiefs are forced to quarantine because the leaders of the executive branch are too fucking stupid to follow instructions roughly equivalent to Do Not Operate Toaster in Bathtub. I can’t remember if Chris Christie had quite received the wages of his sycophancy when the last blog went up, but if I have to laugh at him twice, I’ll live.

Journalists got infected because of these assclowns. White House housekeepers. Where’s their helicopter to Walter Reed, you fucks?

Now, we won’t know for sure until the votes are counted, but the truth is, President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster falling victim to a coronavirus outbreak of his own making in his own house likely puts re-election permanently beyond his reach, like giving up an 8th inning grand slam when you were already losing by 11 runs, which is what makes what happened next so unforgivable.

Because the deranged dolt seems to believe he’s stumbled upon the very miracle he needed to reverse his political woes! Call forth the make-up artists and the lighting crew! It’s time for another North Korea-style authoritarian show of strength! Why, this is even better, stronger, and biglier than clearing Lafayette Square with tear-gas-lobbing rent-a-Gestapo thugs!

And so he defiled Marine One yet again with his presence and his disease, returning to the Shart House, where he immediately removed his mask, a symbolic gesture he believed read as “Gaze upon me, I have conquered this dread contagion for I am mighty and nothing shall e’er overcome me,” while what America actually saw was more along the lines of “I am a sociopath who intends to keep deliberately spreading a lethal virus because human life means nothing to me.”

And just a quick pro tip, bro: forty seconds of labored wheezing while you struggle and fail to hide the existential terror in your eyes doesn’t project strength the way you think it does.

But yeah, the idea truly appears to be Well I Beat Covid ASTERISK With The Greatest Medical Care Available Anywhere on Earth ASTERISK ASTERISK Pay No Attention to Any Similarities to the Herman Cain Timeline THE POINT IS Only Pussies Die From This Thing I Was Right All Along and now he just lays back and waits for the electoral landslide to wash over him.

Politically, this is, of course, insane; the electorate’s reaction to Donnie Two-Scoops’ mendacious pandemic response has not been subtle. You told us it would go away, dude. You told us to INJECT BLEACH. Your ability the shape the public’s perception of this pandemic is non-existent outside of Tucker Carlson’s viewership.

This won’t earn him any votes. In fact, it’s likely to bury him further, as a covid-weary nation wails in frustrated rage, knowing he’s only emboldened his loser cultists to keep on spreading the goddamn virus, which must be wondering if it’s on some hidden camera show by now, such has been its unbelievable luck since finding its way into a nation “governed” by Donald John Trump.

I mean, I wouldn’t have imagined it was possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own two weary eyes, but the demented motherfucker managed to turn a HOSPITAL STAY into a platform to spread disinformation that will lead to even more suffering and death. I will never again doubt that there will always be new depths of evil to discover within this man.

But he really believes all of this will be perceived as “strength,” that a terrified America will simply have no choice in the end but to rush to him, and cling, childlike, to the legs of his ridiculous balloon pants. One of Donald Trump’s biggest political liabilities is that he believes everyone else is as emotionally broken as he is.

In the background, wingnut SCOTUS loons Clarence Thomas and Sanctimonious Sam Alito sent a little note to their illegitimate would-be colleague, Amy Coney Barrett, via a comment on a case relating to Celebrity Bigot Deadbeat Kim Davis, just a quick little “wish you were here so we could roll back LGBTQ rights together!” and a reminder that a shitty theocrat minority really really really really really wants to drag America back to 1950’s.

Look, I know I haven’t been peer-reviewed or anything, but my studies show that whatever non-approved drug cocktail they’re sprinkling on the president’s breakfast cereal doesn’t mingle with chronic narcissism in a manner that enhances leadership capabilities, as demonstrated by the Manchurian Manchild’s surprise midday tantrum, unilaterally ending coronavirus stimulus negotiations.

So, less than a month from Election Day, trailing by seemingly more and more in each new poll, Shart Garfunkel’s brilliant new strategy is to sign his name as largely as possible on a billboard that says FUCK OFF AND DIE, AMERICA! He says he won’t negotiate until after the election; like...I think he thinks what he’s accomplishing is blackmail, rather than self-sabotage. “I won’t let Democrats alleviate any of the suffering I’ve caused” is...well, as a closing argument, it’s novel, I’ll grant that much.

It’s impressive. I didn’t actually think there were, at this late date, any new positions available to be taken that would be so blockheadedly self-destructive but, as Ian Malcolm said, “stupid, uh, finds a way.”

...you were better off with the blank sheets of paper, kid.

Ok, friends, we’re in the home stretch now. If you’ve got a little spare change, I can help you spend it. Use the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide to donate to the Dems fighting to hold the House and Flip the Senate! And check out my second ever comic book, MINE, now live on Kickstarter!



Me, I’m about to have one of those nights where I drink the last can/bottle from every almost-finished six-pack in the fridge, so I figure this is probably my best shot at getting super powers. I could sure use ‘em. Stay safe out there, Resisters...

...wait, what’s this? Sneering Hatemarmot Stephen Miller has contracted the coronavirus as well? Well golly, I could go through my sofa cushions, lookin’ for any unspent thoughts and prayers, but I think I’ll just laugh till my throat bleeds instead. 

This Week in Hell: Kinda Quiet. Might Rain. I Hear Something Happened to That Trump Boy (Ferret/SC)

Like all of you, I’ve come to expect the worst of 2020, but I really thought Rick Moranis was understood to be off-limits. I’m gonna guess you don’t need me to tell you shit has been restaurant-quality cray this week, so let’s wade through this stuff so we can all get back to wailing mournfully into the empty night air.

(Hey hey. Want this post in living color, with nifty news links? http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-kinda-quiet-might-rain-i-hear-something-happened-to-that-trump-boy-with-the-odd-haircut/)

Feels like a million years ago, but yet another peek behind the curtains of Shartopia revealed the Candycorn Skidmark’s contempt for the religious conservatives who make up his base, aka The One Fading Hope He Has of Staying Out of Prison. That any human being can still believe this sociopath will ever demonstrate the slightest bit of loyalty makes me think our position atop the food chain isn’t as secure as we’d maybe like.

Director of National Intelligence/Fashy Flunky John Ratcliffe declassified and released a lil’ bit o’ anti-Hillary horsecrap widely understood to be Russian propaganda, and I’m old enough to remember when the intelligence community thought its job was to stop foreign attacks rather than aid them.

What I hope everyone takes from this latest bit of weaselly malevolence from a cabinet-level official is that these second- and third-generation Trump Admin appointees are not Mattis-like grown-ups looking to restrain Tangerine Idi Amin’s more destructive or dictatorial influences, but clear-eyed collaborators eager to impose his will, and heaven help American democracy if they’re given four more years to achieve their nefarious goals.

I see Brad Parscale’s dirtbag life has plunged into the spiral of scandal and comeuppance familiar to so many prominent Trumpworld figures, amidst rumors of federal investigations and physical abuse. Y’know what else, Bradkins? I’ve got a feeling that stack of presidential pardons is goin’ back in the drawer come January, so, y’know...sucks to be you.

I’m currently filing litigation against my cable provider, because when I tuned in to watch what had been advertised as the first presidential debate of the general election, the only thing my signal picked up was a bloated howler monkey flinging his own shit at the wall for 90 minutes.

I guess the “strategy” was, “If nobody can hear anything Joe Biden says, he can’t hold me accountable for my bowl-of-turds-crawling-with-maggots record,” and so Fat Q*Bert belched forth a seemingly endless cascade of non-stop vileness that was honestly shocking, even after all these years of watching him behave abominably. It was 90 minutes of pouring boiling hot poison directly into your brain, and if you missed it, holy fuck I am jealous.

If you had choose just one lowlight, I suppose it’s tough to top the Velveeta Vulgarian’s revolting attempt to taunt Joe over his son Hunter’s struggle with addiction. Glass houses notwithstanding, this was ultimately just another dipshit primate dominance display that blew up in his face, because he truly does believe voters will be impressed, even awed, by these playground bully tactics. He thinks he’s projecting “strength,” and actually these delusions about his own efficacy are a huge part of why his presidency has been such a catastrophic failure.

Still, the big headline out of the debate was of course the moment when the incumbent President of the United States issued orders to a fascist street gang, live on television. Asked to condemn white supremacist violence, Gameshow Göring instead told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by,” because look, voters in minority neighborhoods aren’t gonna harass and intimidate themselves, okay?

New intelligence reveals that North Korea merrily accepted Donnie Dotard’s every gluteal smooch, but never stopped expanding their nuclear capacity behind his back, because that’s just how you do things when such an eager rube wanders, wide-eyed, into your den.

The Trump/North Korea story is perhaps best understood by imagining Kim Jong-un perched atop Weehands McNodick’s perpetually-slouched shoulders, dangling a fake Nobel Prize made of cardboard and Scotch tape from a fishing pole ever-so-slightly out of the reach of those tiny, inadequate, little mitts, steering him around the room, making him run into walls, cackling all the while.

Texas Governor Greg Abbott decided that things would be a lot easier on his proto-fascist party if it were nearly impossible to vote safely during the pandemic he’s mismanaged so murderously, and so he decided that every county in the state, including Harris County with its 1,777 square miles and 4.7 million residents, should get one and only one drop off box for ballots, a deliberately disenfranchising maneuver so anti-American, one expects Abbott to develop a sudden, severe allergy to apple pie.

In hardly the week’s only tale of inevitable, overdue comeuppance, Jacob Wohl and his doofus ratfucking comrade, Jack Burkman, finally dumbassed their way into felony charges, over a robocall voter suppression scheme in Michigan. Jacob’ll do well in prison, I think.

After her What if Evita Swallowed Six Pounds of Crack and Recited Mein Kampf tirade at the RNC you probably wondered, “the fuck is wrong with this Guilfoyle broad?” and now you’re sorry you asked, aren’t you? Because we found out, and woooooo boy, Kimberly turns out to be such a deeply fucked up, grotesquely abusive little freak the universe truly had little choice but to steer her into the orbit of the Turd Family Robinshart.

Good lord. Tennessee Williams and Ingmar Bergman are standing up in the audience shouting ENOUGH WITH THIS FUCKING FAMILY ALREADY.

But my apologies, Ingmar, this Klan is nowhere near finished belching up bile all over America’s lap, not until Queen Melania gets her chance to rant and whine about the widely loathed institution known as (checks notes)...Xmas. Yes, secretly-recorded audio captures the First Lady lobbing turds at kids in cages and even shitting on Jolly Old St. Nick himself, and I know this betrayal must be difficult for all the keyboard warriors huddled in their War on Xmas trenches, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m really enjoying myself laughing at you.

Welp, Hairplug Himmler finally went and got himself infected with COVID-19, after weeks of engaging in behaviors widely understood to spread COVID-19, who could have seen this coming except everybody? Somehow millions of Americans are still planning on voting for this dolt, despite watching him stick his finger in an electrical outlet, over and over again, and then, upon receiving multiple extreme shocks, deciding, “I should probably try fucking it.”

Hope Hicks was apparently the first to test positive, and naturally these crooked bastards’ initial instinct was to conceal this information from the public and continue campaigning as usual, under the exact same coronariffic conditions as before, until some pesky reporter at Bloomberg screwed up the plan, and, in doing so, probably saved some folks’ lives.

Even after learning of Hicks’ infection, Team Treasonweasel STILL traveled to a fundraiser at his eyesore golf club in New Jersey, quite likely spreading the disease amongst the financiers of his attempted fascist takeover of the United States, in what Lady Justice is calling “the most righteous shit I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Yes, Donald Trump is now seeking re-election on a platform of I Turned My Own Fucking House Into a Coronavirus Hot Spot, and I’m no Nate Silver, but I don’t see that shit working out. Melania has it, Senator Mike Lee has it, the President of Notre Dame, who attended Amy Coney Barrett’s Rose Garden nomination ceremony with Lee and the Trumps has it, and armchair contact tracing leads one to believe they are unlikely to be the last of the conservative political elite to become intimately acquainted with the disease they’ve allowed to ravage our country. Oh yeah, and three journalists have tested positive as well, collateral damage to this reckless idiocy.

HEY LOOK while I was writing, North Carolina Senator Thom Tillis also tested positive, and yes, he was at the Coney Barrett event. So this woman allows a party thrown in her honor to be held in conditions which openly defied public health guidelines, causing an outbreak of a deadly disease that reached the very Oval Office, and we’re supposed to let her exercise judgment over the rest of us for the rest of her life? Are you fucking insane?

To every Republican who has tested positive or is worried they’re about to, boy howdy, you can eat a Hefty Cinch Sak full of carmelized dicks. You weren’t wearing a mask when you came into contact with these superspreaders? Why the fuck not? You shook their hands, hugged them, even? Why? Why the fuck would you do something that stupid? You’ve been told, clearly and repeatedly what you have to do to protect yourself from this virus. Nothing difficult, just hand washing, social distancing, and a mask. It’s not like you’ve been called upon to do anything really challenging, like identifying a drawing of a horsey, or remembering five words for ten minutes.

Even after recklessly plunging the nation into a national security crisis, Republicans are still frantic to push their SCOTUS heist through before the long arm of the popular will removes them from power in one short month. To Mitch McConnell’s skittish colleagues I say hey, he’s clearly been willing to sacrifice everything that’s good and decent about the United States on the alter of his own power, did you imagine he’d give a single solitary fuck about any of your lives?

And of course the Shart House STILL won’t model responsible behaviors, trotting out the likes of Mark Meadows and Propaganda Ministress Kaleigh McEnany, dead-eyed and maskless, to spin and spin, as though anyone anywhere believes a single word that drops out of their lying mouths. (Update: finally, after possibly getting SCROTUS killed, these dumbfucks are wearing masks. Slow clap.)

Yeah, Kayleigh kept assuring us President Crotchrot was happily doing jumping jacks while discussing The Aeneid with the Pope, in Latin, even as we heard conflicting stories about potential symptoms, and about experimental treatments. It all feels like the grand climax of an epic opera based, for whatever reason, on the Boy Who Cried Wolf. As we watched the President get whisked away to Walter Reed for an extended hospitalization, we realized we hadn’t heard one shred of information from anyone we could trust. I asked my Magic 8-Ball if this was any way to run a railroad, and it told me to go fuck myself.

...and wouldja believe, the Wisconsin state GOP, admittedly one of the looniest, angriest Republican sub-cults in the country, is actually suing to overturn the Democrat governor’s mask mandate? Thinking about it, I guess that’s the inevitable result, when you’re already used to trying to impose your own personal morality on others, and then you become a death cult.

Well, if you would like to be governed by smart, sensible people, who are not in a death cult, may I suggest you browse the options in the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide? The Flip the Senate page is super popular these days, which makes sense, but don’t forget about the House majority, which needs both protecting and expanding.


And I hope you don’t find it tacky of me to advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital, because this is the point in the blog when I advertise my second comic book while the shitsack president is in the hospital. Just a few more days in the Early Bird period, so if you want your name in our Special Thanks section, pledge now!


Fucking hell. That’s enough. Me drink lots now. FUCK. 

Old Bastard Probably Shits His Way Through $750 Worth of Taxpayer-Funded Diapers Every Week (Ferret)

When I am old, I will sit on a rocking chair on my porch and children will periodically approach to ask Old Man Cap what it was like, living through the death throes of Donald Trump’s attempted fascist coup, and I will chase those little bastards away with my cane for triggering memories of this madness. It was cray-cray, youngsters. Shit was cray beyond your wildest conception of what that doubtlessly-outdated term implies. OFF MY LAWN WITH YE.

(As ever, get this post, with links, here: http://showercapblog.com/old-bastard-probably-shits-his-way-through-750-worth-of-taxpayer-funded-diapers-every-week/)

So, you may have noticed, or had your entire life derailed by, or perhaps even died frightened and alone from the coronavirus pandemic. No, your federal government is somehow still not doing a great deal to halt the spread of the disease that’s claimed 209,000 American lives, but it is diligently battling the notion that COVID-19 is anything to worry about.

Maniacal Trumpist hacks installed atop the CDC apparently commandeered $300 million for a doomed, deranged effort to make television ads where Dennis Quaid somehow lulls a weary America into believing Larry Kudlow was right all along? I don’t get it either. At this point, it’s just insane children, hopped up on Orange Crush and Wonka Fun Dip, looting the Treasury.

Of course, the governing party isn’t JUST neglecting its duty to protect its citizens from a deadly virus, it’s also refusing to lift a finger to help the millions of Americans who were just standing around, minding their own fucking business, when y’all decided to crash the economy, get a quarter of a million of us killed, and experiment with open fascism, just to spice up the death and despair, I guess.

What I’m saying is, Mitch McConnell’s hopelessly corrupt Senate Republican caucus will not be shaken from their path to damnation. Never in our history* has such a crucial group of elected officials failed in their responsibilities so repeatedly and so cravenly, and never have their failures cost so many so much. Never forget any of their names, and never stop holding them up as examples of the rot that erupts when power collides with cowardice.

Christ, I’m ranting. Point is, Wrinkly Gamera still won’t take up legislation that would deliver much-needed relief from the suffering he is largely to blame for, because he’d much rather spend his time on his favorite hobby: orchestrating heists of Supreme Court seats. And hey, you’re good at it, Mitch. Congratulations. Look what it cost.

Seriously, look at these hopelessly broken men and women, from McConnell to Rubio to Collins to that kid with the lousy beard, what’s his name, spends his days sucking on the butthole of the guy who insulted his wife, ANYWAY, look at them, toasting themselves in the middle of the cemetery, the graves they’ve dug stretching beyond the horizon in every direction, celebrating this extra bit of power they’ve purloined for themselves.

Power to what? To kill still more of us? This party is so insane and useless and rotten, you understand why they have to cheat with every tool at their disposal to dodge the will of the people.

Of course I understand they’re salivating to install their little maniac theocrat before the American people have a chance to punish them for their authoritarian power grab amidst their catastrophic failings, but I admit it’s still amusing to watch them, howling with all the sincerity of a high school kid singing Les Miz, as they rail against imaginary Democrats over their immense, imaginary hatred of Catholics.

Meanwhile, the Democratic Party’s nominee for President attends a Catholic church every Sunday while Hairplug Himmler spreads hate and golfs. Because Republicans don’t even know how to deal with the truth anymore. Y’all can’t hide in this alternate reality forever. This path your party is on, it ends in either electoral defeat or Kristallnacht, you understand that, right?

I’m on a really exciting new diet where I draw sustenance exclusively from videos of Lindsey Graham begging MAGA Nation for money like an unusually whiny Dickens orphan. Sorry Linds, your master already bled the whole damn cult dry to pay his legal bills, and after blowing a cool billion with nothing to show for it but a series of tasteful shots of Joe Biden’s septuagenarian ass, you’re own your own, son.

Today on Shitty Orwell Theatre, I see Tangerine Idi Amin has taken to branding his superspreader Klan rallies as “peaceful protests.” I mean, it’s not even good trolling, but frankly, I’m completely willing to throw a faux tantrum or two to keep these assclowns locked into a strategy of Deliberately Spreading a Lethal Disease Amongst Our Most Fervent Supporters in Crucial Swing States to Own th’Libs.

Please! Stop! O I am slain!

Welp, the Failing New York Times finally got ahold of Shart Garfunkel’s tax returns, and I have to admit, for a doddering old nitwit with a Wile E. Coyote-like instinct for self-destruction, all the years of effort invested into suppressing this multi-spouted shit fountain were well-spent. Holy balls.

The slobbering jackass calls himself the “King of Debt,” but bro, if something has your nuts in a vice, one thing you are decidedly not is the King of it. Years of recklessness and ineptitude have left him with hundreds of millions personally owed and set to come due within a few short years, even as his core businesses flounder and fail, just like EVERY SINGLE THING HE FUCKING TOUCHES.

Minutes after the NYT bombshell dropped, every national security pundit in the country quietly raised their hand to remind us that under normal circumstances, no one with a fraction of this debt would be allowed anywhere near classified intelligence, or indeed any part of the national security apparatus, on account of how OBVIOUSLY FUCKING BLACKMAILABLE they are.

I mean, how many times over the last day or so have you seen a nervous expert describe Strawberry Shartcake’s financial exposure as a “threat to national security?” And how many times have you shouted, “OH, YA THINK?” at the TV screen?

Folks, we all remember Jared Kushner swapping government policy and/or state secrets for that $1.8 billion bailout from his dumbfuck family’s suicidally stupid real estate blundering, and we’ve watched his taintfungus father-in-law blissfully golf the year away as 200,000 Americans lost their lives to his malignant mismanagement, of course these crooks will continue placing their personal financial concerns above your life. OF COURSE THEY WILL. If he could get away with it, Donald Trump would sell every bit of equipment under the Pentagon’s control, down to the paper clips and Post-it notes, to Putin, just to get out from under that debt. Don’t doubt it for a moment.

In the end, he’s never been anything but a drooling idiot burning through Daddy’s money, just the cheapest imaginable grifter, with a skill set barely suited to selling fake designer handbags on street corners until the fuzz shows up...and we made him the PRESIDENT.

Not since the world learned of Mitt Romney’s sneering disdain for the 47% has a number penetrated the public consciousness as quickly and thoroughly as the Marmalade Shartcannon’s already-infamous $750. After all the unpaid bills and outright fraud and Republican-designed loopholes for the wealthy, the Velveeta Vulgarian’s contribution to the nation’s coffers in two separate years amounted to a just-rubbing-our-serf-noses-in-it seven hundred and fifty dollars.

$750. It’s somehow infinitely more infuriating than the many years when he used a combination of personal incompetence and contortionist accounting to avoid paying any taxes at all (remember how we laughed when we learned the dolt lost more money than anyone else in America?), because it reminds us that even before submitting to a hostile takeover by a Nazi game show host, the whole dang GOP ultimately amounted to little more than a glorified accounting firm for the billionaire class.

It reminds us that Toupee Fiasco’s lone legislative accomplishment of any significance was a wildly unpopular bill that cut his own taxes even further, I guess cuz that seven-fiddy came out of the vital fund set aside to replace plate glass windows Junior n’ Eric walk through.

Run on that, you fucks. Run on $750 and 200,000 mostly preventable deaths. Face the electorate with that record. And brace yourselves for what comes next.

...y’know, the last time Joe Biden was on a presidential ticket, that 47% shit put the Republican down for the count, and that guy could pronounce Thailand. And he never raped anybody. Or got even ONE hundred thousand people killed

I see Ratfucker Prince Brad Parscale has been “involuntarily hospitalized” following a domestic violence incident which allegedly involved a loaded handgun and left his wife’s arms covered in bruises. Another reminder that the vow to “drain the swamp” and hire “the best people” was just one more maggot-chewed shit sandwich that you always had to be mighty fucking stupid to take a bite of, let alone swallow.

Ok, so tomorrow brings the long-awaited meeting of Handsome Joe Biden’s boot and lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops' ass. Less historic, but equally entertaining, September 29th also brings the launch of the Kickstarter for MY SECOND COMIC BOOK, a nifty little space fable called MINE. Y’all were very kind in helping me launch my first comic earlier in the year, and I think you’ll enjoy this one.

There’s a special reward on the Kickstarter for fans of this blog, by the way. For backers at higher tiers, I will compose a personalized letter to a politician of your choosing on an issue of your choosing, in the style of this here juvenile poo joke blog. These letters were a big hit on the first Kickstarter, so we’re bringing ‘em back!


And once again, Early Bird pledgers will get their names in a special thank you section of the comic itself! One week only!

And don’t forget about the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide! The House side is growing, welcoming Montana’s Kathleen Williams, who you may remember from the midterms. Obviously, the link to Flip the Dang Senate has been, heh, popular.


Ok...rest up, Resisters. We’re about to hit the home stretch, and I imagine shit’s gonna get real weird. Hunker down with beer n’ cake n’ comics or whatever it is that recharges ya, we’re gonna need everybody at their best.

*I know fuckall about history. If I’m wrong, (and I probably am), I’m wrong. Keep it to yourself.

This Week in Hell: Idiot White Men and the World They're Ruining (Ferret/Shower Cap)

It’s weird to be so confined, so solitary and stationary, while this mad age whizzes by on the screens of our little devices. It’s like being trapped, barefoot, on a treadmill made of sewage and broken glass that we can never, ever, ever, ever shut off. Yup yup, havin’ the time of my dang life over here. Anybody up for the news?

(As ever, get this post, with fun n’ information news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/this-week-in-hell-idiot-white-men-and-the-world-theyre-ruining/)

Obviously, Vlad Putin has a lot to be happy about when he surveys his modest investments in the Tearing America Apart From the Inside Out industry; the President has, beyond the occasional verbal stumble, proven an exemplary employee. However, it must be noted the Biden/Burisma division has been underperforming during a crucial period, which, honestly, you pretty much have to expect when you leave a walking thumb like Ron Johnson in charge of any task that requires the use of a human brain.

Like a child forcing his parents to sit through a magic show in the back yard, Johnson unveiled the results of his silly little ratfucking “investigation,” and the only October surprise here is that RoJo somehow still believes his feeble intellect is capable of any deception more sophisticated than Got Your Nose.

Speaking of distressingly powerful white mediocrities who’ve mistaken themselves for geniuses, I see Rand Paul is in the news again. Feeling extra pleased with himself, Senator Paul took aim at Dr. Anthony Fauci, unleashing a volley of horseshit that ultimately landed like a cartoon anvil right on Rand’s own smug little meat head, en route to his groin, because Doctor Tony was not in any sort of fool-tolerating mood. And while it’s always welcome amusement whenever such a raging jagoff crashes and burns so spectacularly, let’s not lose sight of the fact that this was a United States Senator using his platform to spread dangerous, anti-scientific misinformation during a public health crisis.

BREAKING NEWS: Donald Trump is racist, GASP FAINT! New reporting from the Washington Post delivers a veritable Pepperidge Farm gift basket of anti-Black, anti-Semitic, and anti-Hispanic statements and actions from the Grifter Grand Wizard. The article is awful to read, of course, but it’s as likely to hearten a Cult45er as disgust a Democrat; that’s the conversation we’re really having right now...isn’t it, America?

Well well well, I see Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot refuses to commit to continuing the USA’s greatest, most important tradition: Prime Day. Wait, that’s not right, I meant to say, “the peaceful transition of power.”

Even the oozing plague rat scrotum Donnie Dotard calls his brain is capable of processing the odds of a world-renowned Botcher of Pandemic Responses, Crasher of Economies, and General Fucker-Up of More or Less Everything prevailing in a free and fair election, and thus the incumbent President of the United States has decided to end for all time, violently if necessary, American democracy.*

If he can.

I certainly understand his anxiety. The gutless creep can’t stick a toe outside his wingnut safe space without meeting thunderous VOTE HIM OUT chants (and fleeing them like a coward, naturally). Aw, not as much fun as leading a seething wad of maskless yokels in a rousing round of LOCK HER UP while COVID-19 frolics through the crowd, is it, Fuckface?

But yeah, sure was a fun week, wasn’t it? Sussing out the fascist dolt’s powers and options? Trying to figure out which gates are still guarded by decent American patriots, and which have already fallen to stooges and brownshirts? And you breathe a little easier when you hear the military push back on the idea of being deployed against the public by a cornered Nazi rat, yes, but oh, how you long for the days when you never imagined you’d lose of wink of sleep over such things.

Lizard-Eyed Medicare Fraudster Rick Scott casually proposed an insidious new law that would, in what I’m sure is just a wacky coincidence, disproportionately disenfranchise Democratic voters, by requiring any ballots not counted within 24 hours to be shat upon and burned, and I must say, the increasingly authoritarian Republican Party is gettin’ sorta brazen lately in their thirst to remove American citizens’ rights. How do they imagine this will go for them?

Because there’s been quite a lot of Senate Republican malfeasance in the news this week, and while one must grudgingly acknowledge Mitch McConnell’s virtuosic mastery of procedural fuckery, he and his team of plutocrat assclowns are about to learn they’ve made some erroneous assumptions about the sustainability of a system where a handful of wealthy white idiots reward themselves for losing control of a pandemic, resulting in economic carnage and hundreds of thousands of deaths, by stealing the rights of the very constituents they’ve failed so unforgivably. You’re gonna get torches and pitchforks on your lawns, my dudes. Fair warning.

Desperate to halt the mass migration of elderly voters into Handsome Joe Biden’s lovin’ arms, Strawberry Shartcake figured he’d try an insultingly minuscule, probably illegal bribe. Lord.

“Hi, I’m so cataclysmically fucking awful at my job that you’ve been trapped inside your homes for seven fucking months, with no respite in sight; I’ve stolen precious time from the golden years you worked your entire life to earn, and not only do I golf every goddamn week rather than working to alleviate your suffering, at my rallies, me n’ my loser rage cult laugh our asses off at how little your lives matter to us. Anyway, here’s a week’s grocery money, we’re all good, right?”

In true Trump fashion, seems the Dotard failed to investigate whether or not he can actually deliver his wee kickbacks before shooting his butthole mouth off, and I guess the only thing worse than offering the equivalent of a Starbucks gift card to the people he’s failed so badly is making the promise and then breaking it. It is really quite subtle, the Art of the Deal.

Ron DeSantis celebrated his state’s 14,000th Covid death by lifting all restrictions on Florida businesses, allowing bars and restaurants to operate at full capacity, sending a clear signal that the coronavirus is under control, which is kinda weird, since the coronavirus is decidedly not under control, in Florida of all places. When you report 2,847 new cases and 120 new deaths on the very same day you bellow EVERYBODY BACK IN THE WATER, I feel like you’re sending mixed signals, and not in a fun, flirty way but a Looking at This From a Certain Angle It’s Murder sort of way.

What Ron-Ron is doing here is actively facilitating the spread of a deadly disease among the very population he’s charged with protecting; and he’s doing it to falsely project safety and normalcy, hoping to trick voters into backing the odious buffoon who let the damn virus have its way with the country in the first place. It’s all so very, very evil.

All in all, a difficult week for anyone with an emotional stake in believing conservative men named Ron have anything between their ears but cobwebs and gerbil turds.

I think history will mark the day when Bilious Bill Barr hopped aboard the Bad Ship Shartanic as the precise point when the shitstorm went atomic. Barr took a ragtag mob of crooks, bigots, and wannabe dictators and showed them the U.S. government isn’t just gonna corrupt itself, you gotta go out there and corrupt it with your own two hands, boys! And he’s carried that can-do attitude to Team Treasonweasel’s efforts to destroy the republic ever since, to the dismay of every decent American.

The DoPJ**’s latest scheme involved the breathless and entirely-inappropriate revelation of an investigation into some Pennsylvania ballots that were surely intercepted by Captain Antifa and his band of Soros-funded cyborg ninjas. This story was, of course, rapidly debunked, not that fact-checking ever stops the Children of the Candy Corn from carving a lie into stone.

And it looks like the SCOTUS pick really is gonna be theocrat gun nut Amy Coney Barrett, so if you were expecting the tone of the discourse to chill with the weather, I mean, shit, have you MET 2020? We’re on a bullet train to the lowest circle of Hell, my friend, you must have noticed by now.

Ok, what else? The money keeps rolling in over at the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide. The siok, seven)-pack that donates to all the closest Senate races is understandably popular, but there are a lot of great House candidates who could use your help, too.


And hey, we just got the go-ahead from Kickstarter regarding my second comic book as a writer: MINE! Click below to sign up to be notified when we launch the campaign next week, it’s a nifty little space fable about leadership and limitations, I think it’ll appeal to politically-minded folks like y’all.


Hey, just a head’s up, my plan is to get the next blog up on Monday rather than the customary Tuesday night, so I can watch the debate. That’s the plan, but we all know what 2020 does to plans. One way or another, I’ll see you soon; stay safe out there, okay?

*At the risk of editorializing, I believe this is Bad.

**Department of Perverted Justice 

Your FACE is an Anarchist Jurisdiction, and Other Tales of Fascism (Ferret/Shower Cap)

So, the shitstorm refused to abate even long enough to let us grieve. We didn’t really expect it to. And we’re tired, sure, but we’re battle-hardened by now. Fascism relies on overwhelming the populace, pelting us with turd upon turd until we’re so worn down and covered in shit that we collapse. It isn’t working, have you noticed that? We’re too close to the finish line, sure, but we’re too strong for it, too. So join me for a bit, read through all this awful, fucked-up news, and marvel at how, after all these years and all this atrocity, your despair has not overwhelmed your resolve.

(tonight like every night, find this post, with news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/your-face-is-an-anarchist-jurisdiction-and-other-tales-of-fascism/)

Well, happy 200,000 Covid Deaths Day, everybody! Though surely an undercount, the record now officially states that two hundred thousand American lives, each of them precious (well, maybe not Carl), have been lost, senselessly, victims of Donald Trump’s selfishness and incompetence, yes, but also of the rotten, venal political party that enables his every crime, and somebody’s writing all those crimes down, right? Like in one central list? You’re never winning a Nobel Prize, you demented loser, but you’re getting close to meriting comparison to Stalin, slaughtering-your-own-people-wise, anyway.

Naturally, the proto-fascist GOP gazed out upon this macabre milestone, the greatest, costliest failure of leadership in modern times, and decided their dying, rageful, minority movement had earned itself a little treat, in the form the Notorious and Not-even-buried-yet RBG’s seat on the Supreme Court.

Basically, “Hi, you’re welcome for the corpse mound and the double digit unemployment and the lost year of fury and despair, we’d also like to remove some of your rights now.” They are...insane, to imagine people will put up with this.

At least we’ve dispensed with the bullshit political theatre, the Calvinball contortions and ethical masturbation. Bottom line: Mitch McConnell poked this bear once before, and he realigned 40 House districts right out of his own party’s base; while the bear remained, understandably, quite angry, the bear might have contented itself with devouring Cory Gardner and Martha McSally on Election Day, maybe nibbling on Thom Tillis’ toes a little bit, but now the bear’s gonna fast for a few days, make a little room, like when you’ve got reservations at a Brazilian steakhouse. Keep pokin’ that bear, Yertle, you’re gonna find out just how many of your colleagues live in straw houses.

It was Milksop King Willard Romney who took on the Oh You Thought I’d Do the Right Thing? Suckers! role traditionally filled by Susan Collins. That Mittens wants to grant a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the land to the very criminal he voted earlier this year to remove from office for high crimes and misdemeanors tells you all you need to know about the man; that his moral compass is a dog turd using live maggots for needles.

Naturally, the Velveeta Vulgarian brought his trademark Shittiness for Shittiness’ Sake to the “discussion,” proclaiming Ginsburg’s well-publicized dying wish to be a hoax orchestrated by Chuck, Nancy, and Adam Schiff, that shifty little pencil-necked geek. Now, nobody proposed our beloved Ruth’s last request be given actual legal weight, but in the end, it’s this very sort of pointless cruelty his voters want, more than any high court decision.

I see President Ostomy Bag is still pursuing the idea of giving the American education system a fascist makeover, gross. White-washing propaganda, with an extra coating or two to really give it that white nationalist sheen, is to be equated with “patriotism,” while anti-racist teachings are labeled “child abuse.” People think the Trump campaign is this careening clowncar, smashing wildly into the guardrails, and to an extent it is, but on one important level, the closing message is clear and consistent: a second Trump term would transform the United States into a post-democracy, white supremacist dictatorship, ruled in perpetuity by...a family of idiot game show hosts, for some reason.

That’s the pitch. That’s what they’re selling. All of them. Since Lafayette Square it’s been pretty much all fascism. And that’s deliberate. They’re pitching this vote as the last one. The last vote in American history, for white people who can’t bear the thought of sharing the country with anyone else. Break every law, fail every test, hell, fuck up an entire pandemic response for the stupidest conceivable reasons, destroying millions of jobs in the process, and even then, the people shall not have the right to depose their dumbfuck overlords.

Such audacity in the face of, lame gaslighting attempts notwithstanding, the undeniable, indeed inescapable river of shit we’re all wading though. You Nazi clowns, if you want to take away our right to self-rule, have the common sense to deliver, if not prosperity, at least something a little more appealing than the BIGGEST FUCKUP IN AMERICAN HISTORY.

See, that shit works in Russia, but we are not a people that will tolerate autocracy, or tyranny of the minority; we are in fact rather thoroughly indoctrinated with a completely contrary set of values, and you buttsniffers haven’t rewritten the textbooks just yet. You assclowns are already much further out on this limb than you understand, but Americans will not be ruled without our consent. There’s still time to figure that out the easy way, but not much.

HHS Secretary Alex Azar is fully DTF (“down to fascism”), proclaiming himself Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, Specifically the Food and Drug Administration. The idea here seems to be, “the truth is what Alex Azar says it is!” Fuck you, no it’s not. You aren’t even impressive Nazis. Azar, Pompeo, Chad Wolf...the Dotard himself! Mediocrities radiating insecurity from every pore! And they really imagine it’s strength they’re projecting!

Anyway, Seems the CDC is ground zero for the Turdmaggot Administration’s latest Orwellian airstrike against the forces of reason and public health. Guidelines are being issued and reversed and yanked and jerked in all directions at alarming rates; last time I checked, I think you’re supposed to shove a peanut-butter-and-hydroxychloroquine sandwich up your ass every day before you leave the house. It’s gotta be on rye bread though, or it doesn’t work.

It’s utter madness of course; all this is being done in the vain, desperate hope that four years of abomination will be forgiven and forgotten by the abused, exhausted electorate when these integrity black holes breathlessly announce a coronavirus vaccine the day before Halloween. Sorry kids, y’all spent your credibility allowance on crowd size and windmill cancer. I mean, how many Boy Who Cried Wolf gags can one blogger honestly be expected to come up with? Shit.

God love ‘em for trotting Larry “The Groundhog That Unfailingly Heralds Doom” Kudlow out to proclaim the runaway success/general hunky-doryness of all things. The very fact that someone in the Shart House comms shop deployed LARRY FUCKING KUDLOW at this late date, expecting America to hug him like the goddamn Snuggle Bear proves they’re unfit to govern. Good lord.

Redactor General William Barr designated Portland, Seattle and NYC as “anarchist jurisdictions,” to be stripped of federal funds as punishment for allowing the First Amendment to exist within city limits, and golly, the Republican dedication to limited government is breathtaking to behold. All part of pitch of course; diverse, blue, URBAN America, brought to heel, its riches plundered. How they plan to get us heathens to tolerate this state of affairs is...heh, unclear.

Anyhoo, it’s not just national Republicans who believe repeated, deadly failures merit totalitarian power grabs, oh no! Ron DeSantis, probably the most murderously inept governor in America, unveiled an exciting line of fun, fashy, new laws for the fall! While decriminalizing vehicular manslaughter, provided the victim is a filthy leftist, Ron-Ron also proposes some thrilling* loopholes designed to outlaw our very right to protest!

The BALLS on this goon. “Hey, now that I’ve catastrophically failed you during a public health crisis, resulting in thousands of unnecessary deaths, I’ve decided to redefine citizenship to exclude anyone who disapproves of my blundering!” Folks. Authoritarian Party. Not particularly subtle.

The truth is, Republican officials aren’t exactly being dragged against their will into these fascist flirtations. Many of them are taking to it quite naturally, in fact.

For example, Georgia’s unelected Senator, Kelly Loeffler, in her bid to fill the remainder of Johnny Isakson’s term, is asking the electorate to overlook her self-dealing financial crimes because she’s “more conservative than Attila the Hun,” which is essentially the same argument used by Hairplug Himmler himself: Yes I am an incompetent crook incapable of and uninterested in delivering any positive change for anyone other than myself, BUT I am cruel, and I will hurt the people you despise.

Now, if Kelly is merely yearning for the violent destruction of her enemies, on the state level you’ve got mega creeps like Kentucky state Representative and proud supporter of President What if Elmer Gantry Fucked the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man Robert S. Goforth, newly indicted for strangling a woman with an ethernet cable. Now, this is not the first time Rob has been accused of violently assaulting a woman, but Kentucky Republicans still won’t boot him from the legislature, because they think it’s important that the fella who just got INDICTED FOR STRANGLING A WOMAN WITH AN ETHERNET CABLE be allowed to weigh in on the laws governing society. Cool cool cool.

The latest filings from Manhattan district attorney Cy Vance’s investigation into the Turd Family Robinshart’s finances says they’re maybe kinda prolly under investigation for tax fraud, so can we see some damn tax returns now? Wow. The next season of this show looks like it could be really exciting, and full of satisfying payoffs, assuming the Rule of Law returns to the cast; I’m told there are backstage personality conflicts with Bill Barr, so it’s gonna have to be one or the other.

Look, the odds are, we’ve all got a Zoom funeral or two to get to, so I’ll bookend with the death toll and get out of your hair. To Donald John Trump, loser high priest to a drooling death cult, 200,000 individual human-life-shaped tragedies adds up to a so-called pandemic which “affects virtually nobody.”

I don’t understand how they don’t see it. The Children of the Candy Corn. Like, I get the cultiness, the fear and the hate and the promise to punish the enemy and pillage their lands, but like...his disdain for all human life...his contempt for you, his followers, specifically...he keeps saying it, out loud, right in front of you, over and over, and just...how do y’all not see it?

It’s also National Voter Registration Day, otherwise known as EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY here in my wine cave**. You’re registered, right? You’ve got a plan to vote? Safely, and EARLY? Gonna track your vote to make sure it’s been counted? These are perilous times, Resisters, and your citizenship is required.

Big thanks to everyone using the Fascist-Flushing Action Guide to donate to our awesome candidates, by the way. We just brought back the Six-Packs, which allow you to donate to groups of candidates at once. Whether you’re looking to protect our most vulnerable House incumbents or flip the Senate right out of Mitch McConnell’s shitty little terrapin claws, everybody knows a six-pack is better than one lonely ol’ beer.


And yeah, I’m launching the Kickstarter for comic #2, MINE from Resistance Comics, in a week. We’re proud of it, and we think you’ll like it, but please, if you’re choosing between a donation to Steve Bullock or Theresa Greenfield and my humble funny book, GIVE TO THE DEMS, no contest.

*to Nazis

**I do not have a wine cave. Also, Gordon Lightfoot is still alive. 

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK, Fucking Fuck, and Other News (Ferret/Shower Cap)

You ever find yourself watching the news, and suddenly wondering if somebody maybe gave Jake Tapper some bad acid and replaced his notes with long-lost outtakes from Naked Lunch? It can’t be just me.

(Find this post, with nifty nooz links, here: http://showercapblog.com/fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fucking-fuck-and-other-news/)

One of the ways we know we’re in Hell, like the Hell, and not just some cheap knockoff, is the way even the most innocuous little stories explode into turd-spraying geysers. “Surely I don’t need to pay attention to the Delaware Senate primary, surely that reliable bastion of boredom* can be counted upon to deliver a nice, ignorable result, and we can all move on to - OH SWEET TAP-DANCING CHRIST THE REPUBLICANS NOMINATED ANOTHER QANON FREAK?

For those keeping score at home, this makes two GOP candidates for the U.S. Senate who subscribe to that deranged nonsense**, to which I say: fuck you, 2020, fuck you right in the fucking ear for turning the DELAWARE SENATE PRIMARY into yet another wellspring of lunacy.***

So, it’s been six months. You don’t need me to tell you that Government Cheese Goebbels’ pandemic response has been a near-perfect disaster, as though the coronavirus had purchased every penny of his debt from Deutsche Bank and told him to get to busy spreadin’ COVID if he ever wanted to crap on a gold toilet again, but slap me with a catfish and call me Dennis Miller Without the Baggage if the doddering old coot didn’t find not one, but several new ways to make shit even worse. He’s a fucking savant.

He’s talking about herd immunity again, or “herd mentality” as processed by his Adderall-saturated, dying-before-our-very-eyes walnut brain, and frankly, he’s more than a little pissed at the millions of plebs who’ve spent the summer selfishly refusing to die for his glory and re-election. And when an incumbent, from his rotting throne atop a mountain of corpses 200,000 bodies high, proclaims that the real trouble is that not enough people have died, may I humbly suggest backing the challenger?

After all this time, and all this senseless, preventable death, none of the suffering means anything at all to President Crotchrot ASTERISK unless you happen to die in a state with a Democratic governor, in which case your coffin makes an appealing political cudgel, apparently, because blaming others for his own catastrophic failings is the only move he has left. To the millions of the Children of the Candy Corn out there, upon whom this pathetic garbage actually works, let me say I have come to personally resent your refusal to use the brains God gave ya.

Amazingly, this mountain of murderous fuckery, already nearly so enormous as to blot out the goddamn sun, is not enough for the Marmalade Shartcannon. Y’know, your run-of-the-mill destructive idiot would spread a little light misinformation, hold a handful of superspreader rallies, and call it a day, but not our Dotard, no, he has to wage open warfare on the very agency tasked with informing and protecting Americans during a public health crisis.

The argument for re-election is already a Dagwood sandwich of lies separated by mucilaginous layers of rancid mayonnaise, but obviously, the flavor that holds the whole wobbly thing together is the Miraculous Last Minute Appearance of a Vaccine, and that pesky CDC is stepping on President Carnival Barker’s planned Most Suprising October Snake Oil Exposition and Jug Bande Show, with their stupid cuck “science” and “realistic expectations.”

And so, as he has done repeatedly from the very beginning of this unceasing shitstorm, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot attacks the experts, with all the viciousness his rotting heart can muster. And so people lose faith in their institutions. And the President’s lethal misinformation further takes root. And the virus spreads. And people suffer, and some us die. (If you napped through the last six months, life’s been pretty much...this paragraph on an endless, inescapable loop.)

The Failing New York Times got ahold of a bunch of internal e-mails from the CDC, revealing a culture of crazed, shit-brained, political hacks desperate to overrule scientists and undermine the government’s pandemic response, in the name of preserving whatever Orwell-by-way-of-Ralph Wiggum spin Gameshow Göring happened to be belching up that day.

And Michael Caputo isn’t fired, mind you, he’s on “medical leave.” He gets to come back, as soon as he feels up to the strenuous work of murdering people with disinformation again. Cool.

Meanwhile, COVID-19 has once again penetrated the very White House itself, almost tauntingly at this point, like it’s flaunting its ability to meander in and out of the so-called most secure building on Earth at will. And in repeatedly getting within striking distance of Dorito Mussolini without ever quite infecting him, clearly the virus is mocking us for installing the clod in the first place.

Wisconsin Senator Ron Johnson’s new “Yeah I Do Putin’s Bidding, Sorry, It’s So Much Worse Than a Pee Tape” face tattoo was finally a step too far for Willard Romney, who denounced RoJo’s unseemly efforts to fabricate some sort of Biden Benghazi out of pipe cleaners and the contents of his own ass. Always fascinating to see just which bits of treacherous criminality cross the wildly-inconsistent Romney Line on the Partisan-Outrage-o-meter, isn’t it?

Well, Weehands McNodick, perhaps seeking a refreshing change of pace from the day-to-day grind of failing to contain the coronavirus outbreak, waddled over to ABC News to fail at holding a town hall. Stripped of the safety provided by sycophantic wingnut media figures willing to lead him by the hand through fields of the fluffiest imaginable softballs, the Emperor of Maggots was, as always, revealed to be decidedly clothes-less, save for a loincloth composed of a near-dead tapeworm, burrowed into the taint, gnawing on his carbuncled genitalia.

His craven enablers described the town hall as an “ambush,” and honestly, I see their point. Team Treasonweasel’s strategy is all about fooling some of the people all of the time, requiring cultish, unquestioning acceptance of Tangerine Idi Amin’s ever-shifting alternate reality from their base, so yes, concerns and questions from regular Americans, aka the poor schmucks trapped here in the real world with the consequences of Donald Trump’s real-world fuckups IS an assault, because reality’s slightest breeze blasts the whole shitty house of cards to pieces.

The President of the United States has once again been credibly accused of sexual assault, news which not so very long ago would’ve commandeered the attention of every political and media figure in the country. Today, it barely makes a ripple; no one expects members of the Gropey Grand Wizard’s party to condemn him, or even acknowledge the accusation. No one expects the story to swing a single vote from his evangelical “Christian” base. That’s how much he’s poisoned our culture.

A federal judge ruled that the United States Postal Service is not Louis DeJoy’s personal plaything, to be abused or broken or turned into a bong or whatever, even though he paid 600 grand for it. And hopefully this puts an end to Postmaster Lou’s fashy ratfucking, but this administration has already dipped a toe or two into the “what if we DON’T listen to the courts?” pool, so I’m gonna wait a few days to pop my party favor, if you don’t mind.

Speaking of the authoritarian cabal working to destroy American democracy from within, we all know by now Bilious Bill is the most dangerous member of the Is It Time to Start Wearing the Armbands in Public Yet Administration, and he is in full cornered rat mode, folks. See, the Redactor General understands that a return to the rule of law will bring with it an accompanying prison sentence for one William Pelham Barr, and therefore, if he wants to see sunshine for more than an hour a day throughout his golden years, he’s gotta figure out some way to break the Constitution beyond all repair, like a shitty, jowlsy, treasonous Reverse MacGyver.

Mama Barr, please come get your boy, he’s done a fascism again. Holy fuckballs, he’s on a rampage. Trying to charge protesters with SEDITION. Seeking federal charges against the fucking MAYOR OF SEATTLE. All while malevolently monologuing about his “virtually unchecked” power. He’s losing his shit all over the people in his own department, who’ll shortly be tripping over one another to line up to serve on the team prosecuting him next year.

Oh, and he’s eagerly spewing the Trump GOP’s favorite Kool-Aid flavor: Mewling White Victimhood!**** You may doubt his sincerity, imagine he’s merely throwing red meat to the crowd, but no, to privilege-drunk mediocrities like Barr, the smallest sacrifices in the name of public health are indeed EXACTLY LIKE SLAVERY, and if someone were to produce some sort of reality television program where these whinging conservative snowflakes were subjected to conditions approximating actual oppression, I would never turn it off.

The attempted fascist takeover of the United States took a fun, unexpected, sci-fi turn, when we learned Barr’s patchwork Gestapo toyed with the idea of deploying an honest-to-goodness heat ray against peaceful protesters during the infamous Welp Time to Go Full Hitler I Guess incident in Lafayette Square. A fucking HEAT RAY. Huge shout-out to whatever cut-rate Tony Stark dropped that tool into those tiny, inadequate, monstrous little hands.

That’ll be tough to top, but maybe they’re holding back the really cool Mega Man weapons for the Election Night protests Hairplug Himmler is already openly fantasizing about crushing. He really does want to kill us, you know. He wants SO BADLY to order the United States military to open fire on great crowds of Americans who’ve rejected him. Anyway, vote Biden.

Those of us who are not slain outright are to be indoctrinated, of course. You probably know by now that the 1619 Project is a bug up the ass of every white nationalist loser in America, particularly the Fux Nooz hosts that beam their bigoted bile directly into the Fascist Farthuffer’s mind every waking moment of every day, and so now he’s vowing to personally bleach every history textbook in America, won’t Stephen Miller be pleased?

Olivia Troye, until quite recently Vice President Mike Pants’ lead coronavirus staffer, got ahold of one of the last remaining unblown whistles in Washington and, holy heck, she blew the living shit out of the fucker. Troye confirms what we've known all along, that the Velveeta Vulgarian's deadly combination of selfishness and idiocy caused the outbreak to spiral out of control, killing tens of thousands. Oh, and yes, he despises his base, which is obvious to everyone except, y'know...them. 

While the right wing spin machine engages in all their usual attacks (and I’m sure the Big Bad Deep State Wolf is really coming this time, kids), I don’t think this is all bad for them; Troye’s assertion that Sharty McFly found a sunny side to the pandemic, in that he was no longer obligated to shake hands with the filthy peasant class, is certainly closer to a warm, humanizing anecdote than anything offered by any of his own malevolved children at the RNC.

I cannot imagine what warped oaths to Mikey Hairshirt’s suppressed, debasing God one has to swear in order to serve on his staff, but the basically Republicaniest Republicans that ever Republicaned are screaming YOU FOOLS HE’LL KILL US ALL and while I am unwilling to let them set tax policy, I think we should listen to them on this one thing.

And the VeryStable Jeenyuss saw some Florida polling and decided to make a cynical, half-assed pass at tricking Puerto Ricans into forgetting about that whole “leaving you to die in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria” thing, to say nothing of the “trying to trade you for Greenland” thing. This kind of overconfidence comes from a lifetime of dominating Eric in peek-a-boo, you know.

H.R. McMaster swung by for a quick cameo, mentioning that the Bonespur Buttplug’s Afghanistan policy essentially partners the U.S. with the Taliban, and like, H.R.! Bro! Teaming up with the bad guys is just how we do shit now! We’re an Axis Of country these days. Try to keep up.

Anyway, I was just moving into the editing phase of the usual Friday night post when The Bad News broke, and...yeah. Just what we needed, a sledgehammer gut punch after four years of the fascist kick line stomping on our collective groin. And yes, as expected, Mitch McConnell refused to observe even an hour’s worth of decorum before spiking his football, delighted that his bet against decency and democracy had paid off so handsomely.

It seems so cruel and unfair, that just when we’re finally about rid ourselves of this lethally incompetent loser cult, they get rewarded with decades of veto power over the progressive change agenda the people so clearly yearn for.

Nothing is set in stone yet, my friends, and I believe Wrinkly Gamera has miscalculated. He thinks he’s still dealing with the 2016 Dem coalition, soft and overconfident, baffled by his procedural razzle-dazzle and incapable of understanding the power of the Court. We’ve been marching and fighting and organizing for four long years now, Mitchell me lad, and as much fun as it’s been living under the tyranny of your dirtbag theocrat minority, don’t believe for a minute we’re gonna let you just walk out the front door with another one.

Can we stop them? Yes we can. The chips haven’t fallen yet; the players are waiting to see what the American people will DO. We probably need to go all Belarus on their authoritarian asses to win this one. Do we have that in us? Well, that’s up to you.

So...do you?

You’re not alone in this fight. Did you see how much fucking money ActBlue raised last night? I’m super proud that my humble Action Guide was the tiniest part of that haul, and if you’re looking to help flip the Senate or protect and expand our House majority, well, I hope you’ll check the site out; we’re all very proud of it.


Me, I could use a fucking beer. Oh, the comic. Feels a little gauche to hawk my stuff now, but I think y’all will dig it; it’s a nifty little sci-fi parable about love, leadership, and limitations. If nothing else, the art is pretty as fuck, and it’ll provide a little much-needed escapism in these dark times. The Kickstarter launches on Tuesday, September 29th; hope I’ll see you then.

One way or another, stay safe out there, Resisters, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ RIDE for a while.

*Ok, I forgot about Christine O’Donnell before I committed to the bit. Between this and the Gordon Lightfoot thing, I’m SLIPPING, y’all.

**Instead of “deranged nonsense,” I initially wrote “batshit horseshit,” which is technically synonymous, but might be a bit much, even for this blog.

***Yeah, yeah, Christine O’Donnell. Goddammit, this joke would’ve worked. Sorry, folks.


Coronavirus, Michael Caputo, & Other Things That Are Trying to Kill Us All (Ferret/ShowerCap)

I’ve certainly developed greater empathy for every old-witch-who-lives-in-the-woods/crazy-old-man-in-a-shack-outside-town I’ve ever encountered in fiction, now that I too spend my days in twitchy solitude, cackling to myself at seemingly random intervals. 2020 will make mad hermits of us all, surely.

(Find this post, in color, with nifty news links, here: http://showercapblog.com/coronavirus-michael-caputo-other-things-that-are-trying-to-kill-us-all/)

Bob Woodward continues the promotional striptease for his forthcoming book, RAGE, like some Victorian harlot flashing a lil’ ankle right in the public square in front of God and everybody. His latest bit of audio titillation further confirms that the truth about COVID-19’s deadliness did indeed penetrate President Dotard’s cracked walnut brain, meaning, again, he lied while we died in droves. What’s surprising to me here is that there are still folks who expect him to demonstrate basic human decency, or even normal human emotions, when everything we know about the man tells us that no life outside his own matters to him even slightly. Yes, that is a rather undesirable leadership trait, I quite agree.

A really fun theme this week is Republican Calls For Violence Against Democrats. If Republican Calls For Violence Against Democrats were something delightfully collectible, like Beanie Babies or Pokémon, wow, everyone would be rejoicing in their bountiful good fortune right now. Regrettably, it’s more of a death-throes-of-a-proto-fascist-movement-facing-electoral-defeat-and-trying-to-decide-how-willing-it-is-to-commit-mass-murder-in-order-to-survive kind of thing, so it’s really much less adorable than the aforementioned scenarios.

Naturally, Hairplug Himmler himself is hardly shy about busting out the old stochastic terror bullhorn, casually endorsing the concept of extra-judicial killings as justified “retribution,” and between his instinctive vindictiveness and persistently awful swing state polling, I wonder how long we have until he abandons traditional GOTV efforts in favor of tweeting at his waiting mob that the time has finally come to burn down any house with a Biden sign on the lawn?

Roger Stone’s certainly all for it, calling for martial law, because I guess his custom-made, get-out-of-treason free card isn’t enough for him, he wants to see the whole fucking country burn for having the audacity to enforce its laws on his wrinkly white ass in the first place. Such is the indignant fury of the aging white nationalist; Roger would rather destroy the American experiment for all the generations yet to come than share the slightest bit of it for the handful of years remaining to him.

And Stoney’s pal, Michael Caputo, made history by becoming the first HHS assistant secretary of public affairs ever to incite violence against political opponents in a conspiracy-theory-filled social media breakdown that would make Sam Nunberg blush, news of which came hot on the heels of accusations that he’s altered CDC coronavirus reports for political purposes, endangering American lives just so Donald Trump can keep his weekend golf grift going, and this dude STILL has not been fired. I feel like we should’ve looked at the fine print on that “Best People” deal.   

Anyway, if you’re somehow not fully satiated, as far as articles about wingnut lunatics trying to get you and your loved ones killed are concerned...I mean, the supply chain remains intact, it would seem.

I confess I’d be more worried about this slobbering death cult, if they didn’t seem so much more focused on and efficient at destroying themselves. There are apparently not enough Herman Cain funerals in the world to convince these brainwashed creeps to stop gathering together in crowds to offer themselves up to the coronavirus like so many dumbfuck full-sized Snickers to America’s most lethal novel trick-or-treater.  (Fun fact: a group of Trump supporters is called an “outbreak.”)

Because yes, still, in defiance of local laws, medical advice, and common fucking sense, Shart Garfunkel gathers his shitty flock wherever and whenever he can, including at one very illegal stop in Nevada over the weekend. You can question the political wisdom of killing off your most fervent supporters right before an election, but if you look deep into his eyes while he’s delivering one of his mendacious little rants, you can see what it’s all about: “Look Dad, they’re willing to die for me! Not so unworthy of love now, am I? AM I?”

Wildfire season is always difficult, but things get infinitely more complicated under a resentment-driven president who views crises in blue states primarily as opportunities to torment people who didn’t vote for him. The demented fuck actually flew out to California to lecture local officials, and I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the mind that came up with EUREKA! WE’LL ALL JUST DRINK BLEACH! would also believe that trees can explode.

Turns out Louis DeJoy wasn’t taking any chances in his quest to buy his way into the Turd Reich; he dropped $600,000 in political contributions once he heard the Postmaster General gig opened up. In a way, I almost can’t fault Louis; if I had that kind of scratch, I’d be fulfilling my childhood dreams, too, it’s just mine would involve making really pretentious art films starring myself while Louis seems to want to participate in the overthrow of American democracy.

The periodic self-owning hijinks of the absolutely unteachable grifter duo of Jacob Wohl and Jack Burkman make me wonder if a higher power, some sort of godlike scriptwriter who appreciates the necessity of regular comic relief, hasn’t been carefully shaping this hellscape all along for its own amusement. Anyway, these assclowns staged a fake FBI raid on themselves, because while Cult45 seeks to institutionalize white supremacy, they’d never accept it unless they still got to cling to the whinging sense of victimhood which is so essential to their identity.

We’ve been talking a great deal about climate change this week, with Smilin’ Joe Biden  giving the latest in a serious of calmly effective little speeches, reminding the electorate that of their two choices, he is the one who lives in reality, rather than a dirtbag rich boy’s Fantasia where an offstage pile of Daddy’s Money makes every obstacle mysteriously vanish.

“It’ll start getting cooler. You just watch.”

That’s really and truly the entire Trump plan for the great existential crisis facing humanity. The problem will, with absolutely no exertion on his part, simply cease to be a problem. 200,000 graves into the coronavirus outbreak, and his faith in his ability to will catastrophe into nonexistence remains bafflingly unshaken.

“It’ll start getting cooler.” In about...two weeks, right?

Look, times are tight, and I had to furlough Bill at the Abject Horror Desk, though frankly, he looked like he could use the rest, which is really saying something considering he’s a literary device that exists nowhere outside this blog. But there are some stories where abject horror is the only appropriate emotional response, so...

Bill at the Abject Horror Desk: According to a whistleblower, the United States government is perpetrating some deeply horrific shit at ICE detention facilities, including forced hysterectomies, which is...let’s not fuck around: it’s Nazi shit. And we’ve been tightrope-walking along that gruesome line for quite some time now, but sterilizing human beings without consent is convene-the-war-crimes-tribunal-level stuff.

Bill at the Abject Horror Desk: This is one of those “it’s happening here” stories. It’s not the first, of course. I certainly hope it’s among the last, because a second Trump term is looking more and more like an audition to be counted alongside human history’s greatest evils, and while I do not agree with 100% of his platform, I just think Vice President Biden is a better option for America at this time.

Fucking hell. If I can humbly offer a glimmer of good news in the midst of the atrocity, the battle for a much-needed peaceful transition of power is going about as well as we could hope for. Bakery fresh polling shows Tangerine Idi Amin’s desperate ploy to win back the suburbs through violence and fear has failed, thank all the gods in all the heavens. And hey, if you require sprinkles on your already-scrumptious Democracy Cupcake, know that multiple last-minute attempts to sneak the ratfucking Green Party onto crucial swing state ballots have recently failed in court.

(To the Greens...personally, I can think of more effective ways of fighting for progressive outcomes than serving as willing pawns to a would-be American Hitler, but far be it from me to counsel against repeating tragic mistakes.)

If you’d told me four years ago that the day would come when I would take no pleasure in the misfortunes of John Bolton, I’d have assumed somebody was destined to give me a kitten named “John Bolton” as a joke, which would actually be pretty damn funny, but here in the Shittiest of All Possible Timelines what happened is, the Justice Department opened an investigation into Murderstache’s recent tell-all, as part of Redactor General William Barr’s ongoing corruption of our institutions of law, which is bad for Bolton, yes, but much worse for our poor, battered country, so no, there is no joy to be taken from John-John’s tribulations; truly, fascists ruin absolutely everything.

Well, thank god it’s Friday, anyhow. “But Cap, it’s only Tuesd-OH HANG ON I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE LIKE IT FEELS LIKE A WHOLE WEEK ALREADY BUT IT’S ONLY TUESDAY YOU WILY DOG YOU!” I think I should I sign off now, before I’m tempted to tell any more hilarious, hilarious jokes.

Please continue using and sharing the Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide, we’re raising some real money for our team! And be on the lookout for the forthcoming Kickstarter for my next comic book...MINE! 

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