TheFerret
TheFerret's JournalRapists and Video Game Cheats and Sure, Let's Say Mel Gibson, Why Not? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Okay, Reverse Xmas is almost upon us. Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night. A bumpy night that lasts four years. Plus, everyone else in the car will be shrieking and biting and farting the entire time. I begged my doctor to prescribe me a 1,460 day NyQuil dose, but she refused.
(Y’know what would make this post even better? LINKS. So click here: https://showercapblog.com/rapists-and-video-game-cheats-and-sure-lets-say-mel-gibson-why-not/)
Well, Joe Biden delivered his farewell address to the nation. “Hey, sorry for all the peace n’ prosperity, I never woulda bothered creating all those jobs if I knew all y’all were after was excuses to ingest livestock medication. Anyway, you should probably look up the word ‘oligarchy’ before those billionaire social media moguls erase it from the internet.”
Yessir, this kakistocrat cabal is ready to hit the ground…well, not exactly “running,” but certainly at high velocity, face and/or groin first. The operational theory seems t’be We Assume You Were Kidding About the Whole Price of Eggs Thing, Anyway We’re Cutting Your Boss’ Taxes.
And all I’m saying, you guys, is that your plan to end American democracy forever best be AIRTIGHT this time. Like, intercept Clarence Thomas’ letter to Santa, and don’t get stingy about the dimensions of the proposed statue garden.
I say let ‘em squawk about their “mandate” all day long, while they piss away what limited good will they’ve been granted on pettiness and spite. OH CALIFORNIA WANTS DISASTER RELIEF HUH WELL WE DEMAND DRAG QUEEN CHAIN GANGS TO SWEEP FOREST FLOORS AND ALSO GAVIN NEWSOM HAS TO DO THE TRUFFLE SHUFFLE!!!!
…okay. I’m sure Laura Ingraham is super impressed. The rest of us can’t help but wonder what you weirdos are going to do about our stubbornly ballooning omelette budgets. I like chorizo in mine, so if some sausage magnate could kick a million or two into the inaugural fund, maybe we can carve out a lil’ tariff exemption.
Or perhaps this “Cabinet” they’re putting together could help out, they seem like a basically decent, rational, well intentioned, if mildly flawed bunch, so…hang on, I was looking at a Wikipedia article about Batman villains, let me click over to the correct tab.
…oh. OH.
So, wait, we’re actively facilitating our own national decline now? When was this decided? Did I miss a meeting?
These confirmation hearings…zounds. It’s like Flood the Zone with Shit: Executive Branch Edition. Like, I don’t think anyone ever picked Marco Rubio for their fantasy Cabinet*, but these days, anybody semi-literate, without credible sexual assault allegations gets waved right through.
Pam Bondi? Let’s see…openly corrupt…active participant in the criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election…clearly willing to violate norms and laws to persecute enemies of the Reich…aw heck, gotta keep my powder dry for the guy who wants to bring measles back! Curse you, shit-flooded zone!
But Pete Hesgeth? Really? Granted, the MAGA talent pool resembles nothing so much as a meth den septic tank, but surely you can find somebody who hasn’t been denounced as an abuser of women by his own frickin’ MOM.
I always treasure the moment a powerful Republican formally snuffs out those final vestiges of decency and self-respect, strapping on the ceremonial gimp mask that identifies you as Donald Trump’s personal property for all time, and Joni Ernst’s enthusiastic self-degradation this week made Lindsey Graham look like Thomas More.
Ernst, a sexual assault survivor herself, has made combating sexual abuse within the military a signature issue, so of course allowing Hesgeth anywhere near the Pentagon should be out of the question. Which shouldn’t be a problem anyway, between his extensively documented history of drinking on the job and, oh yeah, his complete and total lack of qualifications.
On the other hand, I suppose after enabling an adjudicated rapist’s anti-constitutional crime spree, what’s one more abuser, more or less? And hey, if you simply refuse to meet with the accuser, maybe you can tell the mirror there wasn’t enough evidence to know for certain. Shoot, maybe you’ll even convince yourself.
Maybe. But I doubt it.
Anyway, I guess now you know how all those castrated hogs felt, huh, Senator?
Markwayne Mullin doesn’t understand the fuss over a Defense Secretary with a substance abuse problem anyway. “What’s the big deal, we’re all fucked up all the time!” Mullin told CNN’s Kaitlin Collins, “Shit, me n’ Tommy Tuberville took turns snorting bath salts off Rick Scott’s noggin right before the hearing!”
Still, is it asking too much of the Senate GOP to sober up long enough to spell-check their visual aids? Or, barring that, add a reasonably diligent third grader to the staff?
Nancy Mace is challenging her colleagues to fistfights now, so I figure American history textbooks’ll need to remove those amusing little sidebars about the caning of Senator Charles Sumner, cuz without the novelty, what’s the point?
Meanwhile, in a worrying development for democracy at home and abroad, pro-Ukraine Republican Mike Turner has been removed as Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, though he has avoided exile to Putin’s brigade of North Korean cannon fodder…so far.
So, it appears Co-President-Elect Elon Musk cheats at video games, not only paying better players to level up his characters in the incomprehensibly sad hope of impressing internet randos, but doing so clumsily enough that said randos could not help but notice, earning the world’s wealthiest human widespread, richly-deserved mockery. I paid a bunch of bloggers to come up with something, anything more cringingly pathetic, but this one stumped us.
Incidentally…hey, Bannon, you can’t even win one lousy power struggle against a dork who cheats at video games? Thought prison was supposed to make you tough.
You may want to bookmark this clip of the founding meeting of Alina Habba and Andrew Tate’s mutual admiration society. Y’know, in case you ever swallow poison and require a quick, thorough purge. (Don’t tell the bossman you’ve got a new favorite rapist, Alina, he’s the jealous type.)
Everybody thinks Sam Alito was joking, but given that he pulled a constitutional right for Donald Trump to commit crimes out of his ass, don’t be surprised when the plumber in your favorite Pornhub video starts spouting overdubbed William F. Buckley quotes at the lonely housewife he’s servicing.
Vivek Ramaswamy announced a run for Ohio Governor, on a Bow to Your Cultural Superior, You Worthless, Lazy Plebs platform, no doubt hoping any viable Democratic competition dies in the stampede to run against him.
Celebrity anti-Semite Mel Gibson went on Joe Rogan’s podcast to dementedly insist ivermectin cures cancer, (it doesn’t) so it should go without saying that he’s been invited to join the incoming administration, as a “Special Ambassador to Hollywood,” alongside Sylvester Stallone, and whatever’s left of Jon Voight. Henceforth, Robert Downey Jr. will no longer be portraying Dr. Doom in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but rather Dr. Fauci, as the Avengers battle the dread DEEP STATE.
Anyway, apparently the inauguration has been moved indoors, partially so there’re plenty of extinguishers handy when the oath of office Bible bursts into flames, but mostly because our “strongman” is far too feeble to endure a little chilly weather.
Okay, I dunno about you, but I’m gonna celebrate the last few hours before my country reinserts its head up its own ass. The goal is to never get sober enough to spell “military,” so if you feel like helping your friendly neighborhood Shower Cap keep his beer fridge filled, well, the tip jar now accepts Venmo, PayPal and Cash App.
As always, I encourage you to sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com, and follow @john_luzar. And this week more than any other, stay safe out there, my friend…
*You know you’ve got one.
Thank You for Not Rioting (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, apocalyptic enough for ya? Cities burning while a bloated, malignant, wannabe warlord sows fear and hate, visions of conquest contorting his already vaguely demonic countenance…I’ve read enough Conan the Barbarian comics to know this is gonna get worse before it gets better.
(As ever, links n’ such await all those bold enough to click here: https://showercapblog.com/thank-you-for-not-rioting/)
Yeah, this week marked our official Return to Anti-Normalcy™️, I think. We knew it was coming, and now it’s here, that familiar fecal firehose, blasting us square in the face every minute of every day. (And if you think it’s bad now, just wait till the whales take their vengeance for the windmill madness we unleashed.)
On Monday, I received push notifications from every news outlet on Earth, when the nation of my birth actually managed to navigate a mundane procedural hurdle in the election certification process without the violent intervention of a frothing mob of the aggressively subpar. For a change. Whatever you may think of the relative high points of the American experiment, it’s all participation trophies from here on out.
…assuming any of us survive the game show host’s wars of conquest, that is. A draft of a planned day one executive order has leaked, directing the finest minds at the Pentagon to develop a saber he can clutch in his official portrait with those stunted, ineffectual phalanges of his without looking ridiculous. Or maybe something equally plausible, like cloning dinosaurs, or perpetual motion.
Watching the drool drip down the giddy little goose-steppers’ chins as they hungrily invoke “manifest destiny” is fairly disconcerting, sure, but on the other hand…I dunno, fellas, were I part of a dewormer-guzzling death cult, I’d want to delay destiny as long as possible.
Like, remember the blithering dingbat who tried to shoot up the Pizzagate restaurant, because he thought they were trafficking children in the basement, only the restaurant didn’t even have a fucking basement? Well, that exceptionally stable genius got himself shot to death this week, when he pulled a gun on some cops at a traffic stop. THAT, my friends, is MAGA manifest destiny.
I promise you, any Turd Reich campaign for lebensraum would end with Field Marshal Seb Gorka’s troops disappearing into quicksand. (Is there even quicksand in Greenland? I don’t know, but they’d find it. In some Greenlandic pizza parlor’s non-existent basement.)
Still, our legal claim here is unassailable. We all remember when Harry Truman thumb-wrestled control of the island away from Hamlet, on the deck of the Mayflower. Plus, Don Junior’s drug dealer friend seems positively enthusiastic about the prospect of annexation, as do the homeless people he bribed and costumed.
Naturally, we can’t even launch imperial aggression like adults, we’re stuck with a preening manchild petulantly proclaiming IT’S THE GULF OF AMERICA NOW, BAZINGA. Yeah, and Mexico’s gonna pay to replace all the globes, too.
Amazingly, no billionaire media moguls were harmed in the stampede to obey their new kakistocrat masters in advance, presumably because Zuck n’ Bezos had their dignity surgically removed and cryogenically frozen in anticipation of this turn of events.
Definitely looking forward to WaPo’s review of the boss’ $40 million bribe, a documentary about Melania that’s already earning Oscar buzz from Stephen Miller, whose own Creep Eye for the Incel Guy, a spray-on makeover show featuring the least fuckable men alive, is also in development at Amazon Prime.
Speaking of makeovers, looks like we’re getting a whole new Facebook. Out with DEI and fact-checking, in with hate speech and a board member who was literally captured on video hitting his wife. Jesus Christ, did Jimmy Carter take all the decency with him, or what?
Meanwhile, Elon Musk declared it is to be Good Vibes Only on Xwitter, now that he no longer needs to conjure a fictitious hellscape to justify the election of his pet rapist.
Heads up, though, a targeted, temporary positivity suspension may be necessary, should King Charles III fail to dissolve the British government and install (alleged) sex trafficker Andrew Tate as Prime Minister 4 Lyfe with sufficient haste. Once Elon sets his heart on a rapist, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, y’know.
Otherwise, kindly sprinkle your California wildfire disinformation posts with festive emojis, there’s no reason we can’t be pleasant as we tear our civilization to tatters.
Near as I can figure, the fires began when a BLM/Antifa riot reenactment got out of hand, and spread because under California law, only indigenous, left-handed lithosexuals are permitted within ten yards of a fire hydrant, though I suppose it’s theoretically possible the Right-wing media is being disingenuous on the subject.
Though thousands of homes have been destroyed, at least the tragedy has provided the Führer-elect an opportunity to deploy his very favorite playground nickname. “Gavin Newscum” is his Guernica. Every time he posts about “Gavin Newscum,” he prints the tweet out for Melania to hang on the fridge at Marm-a-Lago. (I learned that from the Amazon Prime documentary.)
After being held in contempt of court this week, Rudy Giuliani was held in contempt of court again, in case you thought the Borat cameo was the result of an uncharacteristic lapse in judgment. Courtroom sketches suggest Giuliani is making a play to join the rumored Tales from the Crypt relaunch, as an all-new host character…the Landscaper!
A forthcoming book claims Off-Brand Orbán damn near placed Fox Nooz bleating head Maria Bartiromo an undercooked hamberder away from the nuclear codes, a sobering reminder that this shit can always get even dumber.
Sorry, rubes, Elon says those promised spending cuts ain’t comin’, so any tax breaks’ll have to be reserved for the oligarch class. But don’t worry, cuz prices aren’t coming down either, and anyway, you won’t live long enough to notice, given the massive health care cuts they’ve got planned. For just eight dollars a month, you can post all you like about the GULF OF AMERICA, though.
The Georgia Republican Party formally excommunicated former Lt. Gov. Geoff Duncan for his heretical belief that the United States could probably find a better President than some insurrectionist rapist. The scriptures are crystal clear on this, Geoff: There shall come unto you a Rapist; abandon thou thy every law and moral, that he may never know consequence.
Mel Gibson says ivermectin cures cancer. It doesn’t.
Seems Donnie Dotard and Sam Alito had themselves a little chat, but definitely not about how much luxury travel financing it’d take to find a little more immunity in the ol’ SCOTUS sofa cushions ahead of a certain felon’s sentencing. No, that would be unethical. How dare you even suggest such a thing?
And sure, lots of folks’re disappointed his sentence for those 34 felony convictions amounted to five minutes of a judge telling him what a bad boy he’d been, and between the shenanigans of Aileen Cannon and the North Carolina Supreme Court, you may be wondering if you’re seeing the dying days of the rule of law, but personally, I dunno…I just dig watching the sloppy fop whine. About how unfaiiiiiiirly he’s been blah blah blah blah blah.
Because in those moments, his patheticness becomes inescapable. Well, those moments and thousands of others. “Poor meeeeeeee, they’re flying flags at half-staff for President Carter during my inauguraaaaaation it’s not faiiiiiiiiiiiiiir!”
And watching Senators and CEOs grovel before this turd…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand how fucked up and frightening all this is, but honestly, it still makes me giggle. Derisively. Because, well, you understand we can see y’all, right?
And sure, maybe I’ll sing a different tune in the gulag. But that won’t make any of your lives any less embarrassing, lil’ Trumpers.
For now, I’ll drink to having more self-respect than the rich n’ powerful. Hell, kick a few bucks into my tip jar, (now accepting Cash App, PayPal and Venmo) and I’ll drink excessively to having more self-respect than the rich n’ powerful. Following @john_luzar and/or joining the email list on showercapblog.com will have no effect on my drinking, but I’ll still be grateful. Stay safe out there, chum…
(Tech) Bros Before Hos, and Other Fun Rules Under Your New Oligarchy! (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, hello there. Been a minute. You’re looking well. Y’know, I almost got the smell of autocracy and overcooked steak farts out of my poor, battered cranium, but it appears break time is over, alas.
(Bet you remember this, but get links n’ shiny colors by clicking HERE: https://showercapblog.com/tech-bros-before-hos-and-other-fun-rules-under-your-new-oligarchy/)
So, a few days back, some soft, sloppy dork called Patrick Thomas Egan assaulted a reporter, strangling him while bleating, “This is Trump’s America now!”
And I confess I’ve wondered, as I’m sure you have as well, since last we met…is the fashy little twerp right? Is it indeed time to jettison all those pesky, self-evident truths, slap on an ill-fitting suit with a too-long red necktie, and rezone the joint for golden toilets?
Just in case, I informed the nail-gun-wielding chap heading up the press gang that swept my regular Thursday coffee shop of my strong preference for assignment to the Panama Canal front, though I suppose the Chicago winters have prepared me for Canada or Greenland if it comes down to it.
But I still think the answer is no, for a variety of reasons. For starters, if anything, it’s Elon Musk’s America. He bought the incoming administration fair and square, and I’m sure between the credit rating and all the felony convictions, the oath of office requires a co-signer at this point anyway.
Longtime Twitter users’ll tell ya Elon tends to play rough when he gets his hands on a new toy, so I hope nobody was surprised when he immediately attempted to shut the whole dang government down, like a tapped out emerald mine or somethin’.
And Musk, excuse me, “Kekius Maximus,” (as if having an oligarch shadow President wasn’t enough, ours rotted his brain in the darkest, most hateful corners of the alt-Right losersphere, yay) already has his eyes on expanding his collection of Western governments, endorsing the Naziest German party he could find, in addition to lending his support to celebrity British hatemonger Tommy Robinson.
Still, Off-Brand Orbán is at least consulted on certain personnel matters, and while the proposed Cabinet he’s assembled resembles nothing so much as a cluster of intestinal cysts in varied stages of bursting, no one could accuse them of disloyalty.
Well. Except to the Constitution of the United States, of course. A piddling consideration, next to the price of eggs, I’m sure you’ll agree.
Incidentally, hope everybody caught the post-election update that said price of eggs will not, as was previously pledged, be coming down. (As with all Trump campaign promises, if you read the fine print, it says “SUCKER” between two tiny, stunted middle fingers.)
Anyhoo, I’m certainly disappointed the entire Matt Gaetz fiasco played out during my hiatus, if only because “Team of Rapists” would’ve been a money blog title. I suppose Hesgeth and the brainworm fellow are still in the running, so maybe I’ll save it for the leather-bound, multi-volume retrospective, assuming literacy is still a thing in four years.
I wouldn’t take that for granted, given the rumblings we’re already seeing of a potential MAGA civil war. Cuz that’s how you get Morlocks, folks.
I almost feel bad for the poor dolts. You give a white nationalist death cult the best years of your life, you take your livestock dewormer every single night, you dutifully pay your rube tithe every time a new NFT or anti-woke pop tart substitute drops, only for Vivek-come-lately and his billionaire bros to swoop in at the last minute to replace you with foreigners after all. Adding insult to injury, the price of tiki torches has gone through the roof.
Historically, the Children of the Candy Corn have been, um, let’s say “slow” to notice they’ve been conned, but the sneering disdain of the new management has grown too loud to ignore. Between assaults on their culture’s “mediocrity” and “laziness,” (to say nothing of their beloved teen sitcoms) and being labeled “contemptible fools” who should “fuck (themselves) in the face," why, it’s enough to make a deplorable curl up in the corner of their basket and cry.
At first, I wondered who would get the dog in the Elon/Laura Loomer divorce, but the dog turned out to be the remnant of Stephen Miller’s spray-on hair from his 2018 Face the Nation appearance, which, having gained a rudimentary sentience, has been nominated by the incoming Reich to head up the Civil Rights Division at DoJ.
Anyway, now Steve Bannon’s demanding reparations, or he’s going to rip Elon’s face off, though whether the removal would take place before or after he fucks himself in the abovementioned face was unclear at press time.
Still, the schism may yet be avoided, as a pair of domestic terror attacks perpetrated by U.S. citizens have allowed Cult45’s bickering factions to recenter their ire on the southern border. Which, you’ll observe, makes no fucking sense whatsoever. I bet they’ll lose a whole buncha sleep over that.
See, to Republicans, terrorism mostly means an opportunity for xenophobic preening. So for Senator Kennedy, this week was basically Xmas, especially since he got to test-drive some of the anti-media material he’s been working up for Maggie Haberman’s pending show trial.
Despite a federal appeals court upholding her sexual assault and defamation judgment against the rapist America just elected President, E. Jean Carroll rejected repeated pleas for financial aid from the American Broadcasting Corporation, saying, “pay your own cowardice tax, you pathetic enablers.”
Naturally, this ruling wasn’t the week’s sole reminder of the Dotard’s life of crime; on the small matter of those 34 felony convictions, his long-delayed sentencing, now scheduled for next week, promises to give the rule of law a festive sendoff before we descend once more into kakistocracy.
…though not without substantial hissing and spitting from the felonious rapist’s lawless collaborators, of course. MAGA hasn’t thrown a culture-wide shitfit like the one they pitched when Liz Cheney and Bennie Thompson received the Presidential Citizens Medal since that time Congress refused to overturn that one election, even when the gentleman in the ceremonial headdress asked so nicely.
Mike Johnson dazzled the House Republican Conference, clearing the centimeter-high competence threshold statisticians have labeled the “McCarthy Line,” and getting himself elected Speaker with minimal rake-stepping. In most countries, spending time with Chip Roy is punishment for shoplifting, so have a blast, kid.
Oklahoma state superintendent Ryan Walters claims teachers unions have turned our nation’s public schools into “terrorist training camps,” but not to worry, his taxpayer-financed mass purchase of rapist-endorsed Bibles will re-indoctrinate them kids lickety split!
I see Nancy Mace is still trying to blame her many deficiencies on a “vaccine injury,” but even after multiple rounds of boosters, I myself have yet to feel the slightest urge to police my colleagues’ restroom usage, let alone fill my social media accounts with slurs, so it’s possible she’s just an asshole.
Donald Trump Jr. complains Daddy’s friends treat him like a “freaking imbecile” at the annual Marm-a-Lago New Year’s party, implying there are situations where people treat him like anything else, which I for one don’t believe for a second.
But God bless the perpetual motion slapstick comeuppance machine some call Rudy Giuliani; we need the schadenfreude now more than ever. An NYPD task force discovered Rudy in a particularl disreputable corner of Central Park, in a burrow he apparently dug by hand in an effort to hide several Yankees World Series rings from Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss, each of which he screechingly proclaimed “MY PRECIOUS” as they were removed from various orifices.
Anyway, yeah. If you’ve missed having somebody around to help you navigate the news cycle by conjuring images of aging traitors hiding contraband up their butts, have I got good news for you! Shoot, I’ll even let you buy me a beer (via Cash App, PayPal or Venmo) if you’re so inclined! You’re also welcome to sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com, or follow @john_luzar. But whatever you do, stay safe out there, my friend…shit’s gonna get weird.
On the Bright Side, I Just Saved a Bunch of Money on My Car Insurance (Ferret/Shower Cap)
First of all: fuck.
To clarify: FUCK!
Fuckity fucking fuck.
That said, in the interest of balance, on the other hand:
FUUUUUUUUUCK
And to those who would counter, “MOTHERFUCKING FUCKING FUCK,” I say…fair enough. I see where you’re coming from. MOTHERFUCKING FUCKING FUCK indeed. Perhaps even HOLY CARCINOGENIC BALLS OF LIGHT-DEVOURING FUCK.
(And yes, links and such await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/on-the-bright-side-i-just-saved-a-bunch-of-money-on-my-car-insurance/)
The fuck, America? You chose…poorly.
Abstractly, I get why somebody might vote for a violent autocratic movement over the price of eggs. Personally, I prefer to live in a society, but I do get it. I would probably check first, to see if said violent autocratic movement actually had a viable plan to bring down the price of eggs, but then, I am a libtard.
Anyway, I’ve been having a grand old time, pinballing between all the same fun, fun emotions you’ve been feeling. The “I guess America is basically evil now” despair, the banging-my-head-on-my-desk-till-it-splinters outrage that lying works so goddamn well, and of course, that burst of “if this is what voters want, they deserve what they get” spite, complete with practicing the smug look I’ll shoot at the bewildered Trump voters as they enter the reeducation camp six months behind me. (Ideally, you want one that’ll still convey the intended level of disdain once your teeth’ve rotted out.)
Most of all, the shaking-my-head-so-hard-my-jowls-ripple-with-measurable-frequency disbelief that anyone anywhere could possibly still believe this visibly decomposing con man is some sort of business genius, who could fix anything, even if he possessed the slightest interest in doing so. Which he doesn’t.
(I don’t actually have jowls, for the record. Though if I keep drinking at the rate I have been this week…)
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me after crashing the economy and causing tens of thousands of senseless Covid deaths, to say nothing of the rapes and felony convictions and staffers calling him a fascist and so on, ad infinitum, well, shame is the least of our worries, although that time traveler I met at Denny’s last year did say something about all the 21st century American history texts coming in pop-up book form.
All in all, a fairly crappy Tuesday, even as Tuesdays go. Always been a lousy TV night, frankly, but I confess I found the season finale of American Democracy particularly dissatisfying. Certainly disappointed the Jack Smith subplot won’t play out. The Russian bomb threats targeting minority precincts were a clever detail, though; my compliments.
And the trailers for next season look awful. So many of my least favorite characters returning in prominent roles. Not excited for this “vengeful narcissist can prosecute anybody he wants” angle, or the economy-wrecking tariffs they’re teasing, and I don’t care for the elevation of this “Elon” fellow, because how many idiot racist billionaires do really you need? Sometimes less is more.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Beyond that, most of the political news this week involved sifting through the wreckage for explanations, and it turns out it’s pretty difficult to write jokes about early post-mortem hypothesizing.
“How many points rightward does the electorate have to shift to screw in a dictatorship? THREE TO FIVE, APPARENTLY, BUT WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR MORE DATA…is this thing on?”
See?
Anyway.
I’d already been planning to take a break after the election, and, uh…yeah, I’m gonna do that. I’m fuckin’ exhausted, y’all.
The actual writing of this blog is a hefty enough workload, but the necessary research involved (incessant doomscrolling, essentially) keeps the MAGA rage/hate/shit/poison cocktail at a constant simmer inside my poor, battered cranium, more or less around the clock. Which doesn’t leave a lot of room for other work.
As you may’ve noticed, it’s been a long-ass time since I made a comic book! So long, I’m embarrassed to say how long.
I’ve been wrestling with this story for…shit, I was worried it would no longer be relevant by the time I actually got the fucking thing made, but thanks to the unteachable American electorate, I guess I’ve got a whole new window.
You folks’ll love it, assuming I ever get it done. (It’s turning into my own, personal Megalopolis, only hopefully not, y’know…shitty.) Won’t burden you with the details, but over the last few months, there have been…let’s say, “setbacks.”
Previous blog hiatuses have proven productive, so I’m gonna step away for a bit, to focus my energies on dragging this little bastard across the finish line, yes, but most of all, to rest up for the fights to come. Feels like the perfect time to unplug, honestly; skip the gloating and the dread, drink some beers, take some walks, drink some more beers, fill any and all available receptacles with fluoridated water before RFK Jr. floods my pipes with whale juice, and then drink any beers that may have evaded my attention, however improbably.
How long a hiatus? At least through Thanksgiving, probably the end of the year. Maybe I’ll pop up for a sporadic update here n’ there. I’ve dug my little trench on the sidelines of our circular firing squad on social media, so I’ll probably half-heartedly lob a water balloon from time to time. You can follow @john_luzar, but if you see me posting too much, feel free to chastise me.
Ok. Resistance mode it is, then. You know that world-weary Krusty the Clown sigh? That’s the sound I made after I typed, “Ok. Resistance mode it is, then.”
But even in these dark times, we mustn’t lose sight of the wonder life has to offer us. For instance, imagine the childlike delight of those North Korean troops, experiencing their brief, consciousness-expanding immersion in western internet pornography, right as they’re fed into Putin’s meatgrinder. Brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?
Ok, friends, I’ll see you in a bit. Forgive me for rattling the ol’ tip jar (Now accepting PayPal, Venmo AND Cash App) a little harder tonight, because as mentioned elsewhere, I will certainly not be taking a hiatus from beer. Far from it.
Stay safe out there. Take care of yourselves. Above all else, do not, under any circumstances, allow the bastards to grind you down.
Democracy Dies in YOUR MOM'S STANKY DRAWERS (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Say, this latest round of drama made me realize, Shower Cap’s Blog has yet to formally endorse in the 2024 presidential race. Well, I’ll be danged (all the way to Heck) if democracy dies in a tattered, beer-stained, superhero bathrobe and a luchador mask! Yea, though it may endanger my lucrative defense contracts, (I provide fart jokes to the janitorial staff at Andrews…at a hefty markup, of course) I shall be silent no longer!
(As ever, get this post, WITH nifty nooz links, here”: https://showercapblog.com/democracy-dies-in-your-moms-stanky-drawers/)
I hereby endorse Jill Stein, or perhaps Cornel West, because when I shove quarters up my nose, I shove ‘em all the way! Because I’m a preening nincompoop who values social media feedback from other preening nincompoops more than human life! Because chicks dig counterproductive, masturbatory virtue signalling…right?
Aw, I’m just yankin’ yer chain, I’m voting for Vice President Harris. (C’mon, you didn’t think a Stein voter possessed a brain capable of writing jokes, didja?) And mostly for the Biden/Harris economy, which even Th’Economist calls “the envy of the world,” the biggest environmental bill in history, the dozens of liberal judges, and so on and so forth.
But even beyond that, she has a certain, how shall I put this…non-fascistness that I find charming, somehow. The way she never calls her political opponents “the enemy within,” or threatens to deploy the military against them, it’s…I dunno, kinda refreshing. Like a nice, tall glass of iced tea after a 14-hour shift breaking up rocks in the re-education camp.
She never talks about firing and/or deporting any special counsels investigating her crimes against democracy, admittedly because she never committed any such crimes in the first place, but still.
I find the relative dearth of national security officials warning the nation of her fascist tendencies particularly encouraging. She doesn’t talk like Hitler or praise Hitler or long for “the kind of generals that Hitler had,” which strikes me as a far superior attitude to have about Hitler than, say, her opponent’s.
Whereas you can’t swing a dead cat these days without hitting a four-star general willing to use the f-word to describe Off-Brand Orbán. You might not’ve seen it, but a former Pentagon snack counter clerk just told CNN about the crusty, bronzer-smudged copy of Mein Kampf he found in a restroom stall back in 2019.
Of course, the aforementioned cat would also collide with a veritable legion of institutional Republicans, lining up to normalize the latest depravities as quick as their Turd Emperor can spew ‘em. While Tom Emmer’s sycophancy makes up in enthusiasm what it lacks in finesse, more experienced stooges, like Chris Sununu and Dug Bugman, shuffle from media hit to media hit, regurgitating talking points like the soulless husks they are.
Moses n’ Yertle took things a step further, waggling their crooked fingers at Kamala for stating the obvious. I think it’s kind of adorable that such craven lickspittles imagine they have the right, much less the capacity to shame anyone else.
I suppose the bright side of defending your candidate from accusations of fascism is you finally get to stop defending his bizarre obsession with Arnold Palmer’s (allegedly) massive dong. And shoot, apparently nobody’ll even have time to ask about the model who accused him of groping her “to show off for Jeffrey Epstein.” I guess flooding the zone with shit makes sense when your candidate is a piece of crap.
I’d have to check, but I’m pretty sure Harris never sexually assaulted anyone in an effort to impress a sex trafficker. Or pledged to pardon any domestic terrorists. Or called America the “garbage can for the world.” Or raped anybody. So I’m feelin’ pretty good about that endorsement.
Oh, incidentally, in addition to all the fashy shit, his economic platform would bankrupt Social Security in six years. And you’ll need that money, after his across-the-board tariffs jack up the price you pay for everything from spray-on hair to livestock dewormer. So, fiscally irresponsible, fascist rapist. Got it.
Ah, but an eminently puppetable, fiscally irresponsible, fascist rapist, which explains Elon Musk’s massive, probably illegal, certainly inefficient investment in bribes. Psst, hey Elon, any chance you could cover some of the rally bills your boy has refused to pay, or are you too busy skipping like a dipshit?
Maybe somebody could dip into to the fund amassed from bilking the elderly out of their life savings? Oh, that money is reserved for piss hooker excursions? I understand.
Getting back to Musk real quick, seems he’s gotten into the habit of phoning up Putin, just to talk about boys and clothes, and also throttling Starlink service over Taiwan, as a favor to Xi Jinping. I assume the Bushes trademarked “Axis of Evil,” so maybe we could go with something like, I dunno, Scumfuck Triumvirate? Global Shitwad? We’ll workshop it.
‘Course, we’ve got plenty on our plate domestically. Our don’t-you-dare-call-them-fascist rank and file Republicans are, of course, threatening election workers, necessitating “police snipers and drone patrols” in Maricopa County. Y’know, just like in all the healthiest democracies.
No doubt you’ve seen ads where your local candidate encourages you to make a plan to vote. Well, in Pennsylvania, a particularly enthusiastic 62-year-old named John C. Pollard made a plan to “SKIN (his local poll worker) ALIVE AND USE (his local poll worker’s) SKIN FOR FUCKING TOILET PAPER.” But definitely not in a fascist way.
Other non-fascist MAGA activities this week included flagging voters with "Hispanic-sounding" names as "suspicious" in North Carolina, manufacturing odious deepfakes for Russian military intelligence, and masquerading as a pro-Trump “Black Insurrectionist” to disseminate disinformation over on Elon’s busted, white nationalist playground. Oh, and perhaps a little voter registration fraud in Pennsylvania.
Least fascist of all was Freedom Caucus Chair Andy Harris, who urged North Carolina’s Republican-controlled legislature to simply award the state’s electoral votes to the Velveeta Vulgarian, without bothering with any of that pesky voting. In Andy’s defense, his plan, while terrifyingly anti-democratic, involves the use of no human skin as toilet paper.
At a perhaps-fascist-adjacent rally in Georgia, Tucker Carlson briefly emerged from deplatformed obscurity to foist his psychosexual irregularities on an audience that probably deserved them, meticulously detailing his fantasy wherein America is a “bad girl” in need of a “vigorous spanking” from Daddy Dotard. Pretty pedestrian, as perversions go, but we should note, for history’s sake, just how embarrassing this whole thing has been.
Keeping with that topic, if you ever want to dazzle a death cult, turns out all you have to do is pretend to work at McDonald’s for half an hour. They were gonna have JD Vance play one of the customers, but he was too busy working on his speech complimenting self-professed “Black Nazi” Mark Robinson.
Seems “Judge” Aileen Cannon has bootlicked her way onto the Turd Reich’s Attorney General shortlist. Used to be, you had to invent a whole new type of extra-masculine toilet to get appointed to the highest law enforcement post in all the land, but I guess times change.
As we navigate these unbearably tense final weeks, with the nation teetering on the brink of autocracy, I find it’s more important than ever to slow down, take a deep breath, and enjoy the sweet, slapstick justice the universe has seen fit to unleash upon Rudy Giuliani, who somehow keeps finding new floaters to collide with as he is flushed down history’s commode.
Amerikkka’s Mayor has been ordered to surrender a wide range of his ill-gotten possessions to defamed election workers Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss, including “a picture of Reggie Jackson and a jersey signed by Joe DiMaggio, along with a 1980 Mercedes previously owned by Lauren Bacall, jewelry and fancy watches from Bulova and Rolex,” but it seems as though court officials failed to uncover that trowel he swiped from Four Seasons Total Landscaping, so take THAT, rule of law!
I see Tulsi Gabbard finally completed her long, tediously stage-managed tap dance around the proverbial horseshoe, performing, with a slightly used KFC spork, the self-lobotomy ritual that officially initiates one into the MAGA Republican Party. Have fun with your new friends, Tulsi! Don’t leave your drink unattended around Matt Gaetz!
Ok, before I sign off for the week, I’m gonna poke around the information superhighway one last time, to see if either candidate reneged on a promise to pay for a murdered soldier's funeral, maybe in a super racist manner? Cuz that’s a deal-breaker for me, endorsement-wise.
Anyway, HUGE NEWS, for the next 48 hours, all donations to my tip jar/beer fund (now accepting Cash App, Venmo AND PayPal) will receive, oh, why don’t we say a 2000% match from some benevolent billionaire benefactor, who wouldn’t dream of blocking a humble blogger from endorsing during such a crucial election.
Otherwise, share this rant on social media, sign up on the email list, follow @john_luzar…you know the drill. Stay safe out there, chums, we’re almost at the finish line…
Sundowning Rapist Demands Nap (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Greetings, fellow Enemy Within™️! Hope you enjoyed the lovely autumn week! The crisp weather, the changing of the foliage, the perhaps temporary absence of U.S. military personnel rounding us up into camps for disparaging Dear Leader!
(While you still have freedom to do so, click here to get this post with nifty nooz links: https://showercapblog.com/sundowning-rapist-demands-nap/)
I keep coming back to the boiling frog thing, because we’ve somehow managed to normalize our way into a coin flip for the nuclear codes with a decomposing sex offender whose closing argument is “Harvey Weinstein got schlonged.” All the water has long since vaporized out of our poor pot, and been replaced, with Russian hooker pee, which, it turns out, is really rather unpleasant when heated.
There seems to be a direct correlation between his rapidly declining mental state and his open embrace of naked fascism, so I think we need to consider the possibility that he’s entered into a secret pact with Putin to divvy up Poland. He’ll mention the invasion in passing, about 90 minutes into the American Carnage II: Blitzkrieg Boogaloo inauguration speech, between the snake story and the part where he hits on Katie Britt.
Because he’s fading fast, folks. We’ve arrived at the “applying the bronzer to the entire face is too much trouble” phase. The “Kamala will abolish cows” phase. The “communication is too difficult for me now, but tell ya what, let’s put on some music so y’all can watch me wobble for an hour” phase.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly glad this latest malfunction (which historians have already labeled the Night of the Undulating Dingbat) has jump-started the overdue conversation on cognitive fitness, but honestly, wasn’t that far and away the best version of Donald Trump you’ve ever seen? Shit, let’s get him some rubber pants and find him a farm upstate where he can bop and sway to his broken little heart’s content.
Because in those increasingly rare moments when his brain manages to eke out a little human speech, it’s to threaten to send SEAL Team Six after Adam Schiff and Nancy Pelosi, (THE ICE CREAM FREEZER IS SECURE, REPEAT, SECURE!) or to urge violent retribution against female hecklers.
At a Univision town hall, former registered Republican Ramiro González gave America’s overmatched political media a much-needed journalism lesson, asking Off-Brand Orbán, to his face, to justify his inaction on January 6th, while roving gangs of his subpar supporters rampaged through the Capitol in search of Vice Presidents to lynch.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” responded the Dotard, stopping momentarily, for old times’ sake, to exaggerate the size of the crowd, “It was a day of LOVE.” Which is true enough, I suppose. Love of mob violence. Love of the rapist game show host who grants permission to dress up like a Game of Thrones extra and engage in said violence. Love of…well, call it fascism. Cuz that’s what it is.
Now, obviously, no decent person could justify or defend this shit, which, I suppose, explains how the task fell to Glenn Youngkin, who could barely hack up a little half-assed, Orwell-for-the-borderline-braindead spin before withering under Jake Tapper’s not mad/just disappointed look.
Still, we have a powerful ally, in the fetid wad of Adderall-soaked bologna rotting away between the GOP nominee’s ears. Like, personally, if I needed to win the Rust Belt in order to stay out of prison, I’d avoid shitting on auto workers. If the greatest threat to my candidacy happened to be a millions-strong army of furious women, I might resist the urge to dunk on Nikki Haley, particularly when she’s offering to campaign on my behalf. But then, I’m not a particularly stable genius.
No wonder he won’t release his medical records. Which presumably consist of a yellowed, decades-old certificate for passing a cognitive test, and a single McDonald’s napkin on which someone has hastily scrawled, in crayon, “Held together, barely, with Scotch tape and spite. Could collapse into a pile of slugs at any moment.”
Anyway, I don’t need to tell you that jousting with little kids over the causes of the Civil War can be tiring work, but suffice to say, this Dotard is alllll tuckered out. He’s cancelling interviews left and right during these, the closing days of the campaign, lacking the stamina to even swat at softballs lobbed by the likes of Dan Bongino.
In contrast, Vice President Harris spent the week barnstorming swing states, with a brief interlude to fact-check Bret Baier’s bullshit, right on his own home turf. Got better ratings than Donnie One-Term did, too.
According to Bob Woodward, former Defense Secretary James “Mad Dog” Mattis seconded everything General Mark Milley said about their former boss, you remember, “fascist to the core,” danger to the nation, yadda yadda yadda. Unconfirmed at press time are allegations that H.R. McMaster told Woodward Trump’s “noxious, unendurable flatulance” frequently undermined, and even endangered the national interest, on one occasion sending an unnamed foreign leader’s spouse to the hospital during a state dinner.
Shouldn’t need saying, but Donald Trump is not “the father of IVF,” despite what you may’ve heard to the contrary.
He did, however, yet again offer hush money to Stormy Daniels, so I think we can safely say the ship has sailed on the whole “ever learning anything” thing. Which might explain his unshakable faith in the punitive tariffs every economist alive insist would kidney-punch our economy.
Must be the tariff policy that’s getting all the dudes with swastika flags to turn out for the boat parades. Yup, when I see a bunch of dudes on a boat flying a swastika flag, I think, “wow, those guys sure are passionate about protectionism!”
Former Trump attorney Christina Bobb, who currently works for the RNC, called for a national “cleansing” to “clean out the filth,” in a bizarre rant about Diddy and pedophilia, further demonstrating the American Right’s deep, abiding belief in Donald Trump’s trade policy. Mike Flynn is positively horny to unleash “the gates of hell” upon returning to the White House…on insufficiently taxed imports, surely.
Turns out JD Vance’s financial policy advisor, Aaron Kofsky, leads a secret double life as internet coke fiend “PsychoticMammal,” whose boundless love of substance abuse has led him to fill Reddit with tips n’ tricks for smuggling drugs onto domestic flights. And just like that, Don Jr.’s advocacy for JD’s addition to the ticket makes a little more sense, doesn’t it?
I see Elon Musk is out to pad his Guinness World Record for largest loss of personal fortune in human history, regurgitating the same lies about Dominion Voting Systems that cost his pal Rupert a cool $787 million. All I’m saying is, y’know…get that $100 bribe up front, Pennsylvanians.
Heavily armed Real Americans liberated communities in Tennessee and North Carolina from the tyranny of hurricane relief, in case anybody’s looking for fresh material for our nation’s tourist brochures.
It takes a generational fop to get emasculated by a fella who once made his living putting on itty-bitty leather underpants, dousing himself in baby oil, and pretending to fight, but Donald J. Trump is no ordinary fop.
Following a rally in Coachella, the Trump campaign abandoned hundreds of their most devoted supporters in the middle of a literal fucking desert, offering the latest in a series of clear-as-the-nose-on-your-fucking-face lessons to the least teachable creatures to ever walk on two legs. I assume more than a little cannibalism went down.
Ted Cruz was publicly humiliated this week, though not, for a change, by a presidential candidate he endorsed.
Having apparently run out of convicts, Vladimir Putin turned to his sister shithole, North Korea, for cannon fodder. That’s right there in Chapter 39 of the Superpower Handbook: When Your Three-Day War is Going Really, Really Well.
So yeah. Lil’ wacky out there. Anyhoo, I know you’re getting hit up for donations ninety-six times an hour right now, but know that when I rattle my tip jar, (now accepting Venmo, Cash App and PayPal!) every nickel goes towards not the betterment of the United States, but beer that I won’t even share.
Or, you can post this rant on social media, sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com, and follow @john_luzar for nuthin’! And I’ll just…I dunno, lick a toad or something. We’ll figure it out. Home stretch, folks! Stay safe out there!
The Further Adventures of the Flatulent Rapist and His Loser Death Cult
So I see the Dunning-Krugerest fellow to e’er walk the Earth has decided to refer to his opponent, who dog-walked him so brutally in their one face-to-face encounter that he now curls up in the fetal position, sucking that runty little thumb of his, at the mere mention of the word debate…as a “dummy.”
(As ever, get this post with nifty nooz links here: https://showercapblog.com/the-further-adventures-of-the-flatulent-rapist-and-his-loser-death-cult/)
In a just world, when a blithering doofus who comprehends how neither tariffs nor umbrellas work, who spent years (YEARS) bragging about passing a cognitive test, impugns anyone else’s intelligence, the ghost of Alex Trebeck would appear, to, at the very least, fart directly into his mouth.
Speaking of imbecility and passing gas, the Dotard used a speech in Detroit as an opportunity to shit on Detroit, and possibly in his pants as well. Pretty consistent with the trajectory he’s been on since that trial he sleep-farted through; you remember the one, where he got convicted on all 34 felony charges?
Shucks, he’s deteriorated to the point where even the New York Times has taken notice. Better late than never, since the all but visibly decomposing old fop can no longer navigate a podcast interview without the hosts laughing directly in his face at his decline. Since his Art of the Deal ghost writer says, “It’s long been deeply unsettling to me how many behaviors associated with psychopathy Mr. Trump exemplifies.” Since former Joint Chiefs Chairman Mark Milley calls him “the most dangerous person to this country,” and “a fascist to the core.”
Since he’s apparently remained in regular phone contact with freakin’ Putin. “Hey, Vlad, I was just dropping a line to see how your genocidal war of conquest was going. Still bogged down, huh? Well, if you can hack up some new emails for me, maybe I can do something about that! I, um, guess your get well soon card from the last assassination attempt got lost in the mail like the first one, huh?”
Anyhoo, maybe we can reassign some of the reporters from the summer’s 24/7 Joe Biden Stammer Police beat to figure out precisely what the fuck “Biden circles” are? To ask him, once and for all, just who he imagines “the late, great Hannibal Lecter” is or was?
Though his handlers have prudently kept him away from military cemeteries of late, Off-Brand Orbán still manages to squeeze an impressive amount of desecration into his schedule, defiling a Purple Heart here, a Jewish prayer book there, grinning like a brain-damaged hyena while holding a photograph of a hostage kidnapped by Hamas…projectile indecency is simply second nature to him.
Now, personally, I wouldn’t go around ranting about “bad genes” were the fruit of my loins as staggeringly subpar as Junior n’ Eric, but of course there’s a reason 21st century America’s white supremacists spend their lives snugly cocooned within a disinformation-saturated alternate reality.
…which, and I’m addressing this to the alien anthropologists excavating the blasted remains of our dumbfuck civilization in the surely-not-too-distant future, is how we wound up with a culture that responds to natural disasters by threatening scientists’ lives.
Yeah, meteorologists are receiving death threats now, that’s normal and healthy, right? Might wanna ask the doc about that at our next checkup. Oh, the doctor fled the country after her office was deluged with bomb threats, you say? Reasonable.
The real shame of this, the what-the-fuckest hurricane season since the Dark Ages at least, is so much of the carnage could’ve been avoided. Kamala was totally prepared to turn the weather machine down, if not all the way off, but Ron DeSantis refused to take her call, because he was too busy threatening criminal charges against television stations that air abortion rights ads.
So now the FEMA battalions march through Real America, confiscating Trumpy Trouts from those sheeple too timid to heed Laura Loomer’s call for noncompliance. And we never would’ve learned any of this if Elon Musk hadn’t overpaid for one of the world’s largest social media platforms.
I see Elon’s decided to put in a bid for the most bribable man alive, suppressing stories on Xwitter at the campaign’s request, offering exorbitant, probably illegal wages to swing state canvassers, perhaps even going a-door-knockin’ himself. Of course, should the nation actually fall to this grotesque supervillain team-up, of the guy who bankrupted casinos and the guy who lost more money than anyone in human history, by summer 2025, you’ll find America up on cinder blocks outside a meth lab.
While Musk no doubt amasses a bonesaw dismemberment list in anticipation of having his very own pet president to puppet, he’s gonna have to get in line, and the queue for state-sponsored vengeance gets longer every day: Milley, Romney, Deloitte, (the whole company is to be punished because one employee leaked those messages where JD Vance accidentally told the truth about his future running mate) CBS, (for that 60 Minutes interview Littlefinger was too chickenshit to do) plus whoever blew up Mr. McMahon on Monday Night Raw all those years ago.
Turns out Trump Bibles are produced in China, presumably in a sweatshop down the street from the one that manufactures those bright red baseball caps we use to identify our idiots. I’m assuming “made in America” didn’t make it onto that carefully crafted, grifter-friendly checklist Oklahoma Superintendent of Public Instruction Ryan Walters concocted for his little unconstitutional shopping spree.
So, on the Sunday shoz and elsewhere, a number of prominent Republicans, including Senator Tom Cotton, and the Speaker of the Whole Dang House of Representatives, were unable to answer a question any third grader could: who won the 2020 election?
So I’m thinking it’s time to lower the bar. Forget about policy, we need to know which of our elected representatives believe the Earth is flat. Is the moon made of green cheese? In the case of a “legitimate” rape, does the female body indeed possess ways of shutting “that whole thing” down? (Boy, Akin wouldn’t even merit an above-the-fold headline in 2024, would he?) Do you believe the government controls the weather via space lasers, be they Jewish-owned or communal?
Apparently we need to ask these questions of the GOP’s nominee for Vice President of the United States. C’mon JD, what other objective truths do you deny? You probably think Shane lives at the end, don’t you? DON’T YOU?
Viewers who normally tune in to Jesse Watters’ show for the sneering misogyny and wingnut propaganda got a special treat this week, in the form of dating advice, from the least impressive white supremacist this side of Nick Fuentes.
I guess my worry is that when I’m in the gulag, getting waterboarded, with my testicles hooked up to a car battery, I still won’t be able to force myself to refer to Stephen Miller as a “sexual matador,” no matter how much I may want the pain to stop. Anyway, once you appear on national television with spray-on hair, you forever lose all rights to refer to anyone else as “beta,” that’s on the tablets Moses hauled down from the mountaintop.
Okay, that’s more than enough of that. I do believe I shall now drink until the neural pathway within my poor, beleaguered brain, between “Stephen Miller” and “sexual matador” is bludgeoned to atoms. I shall no doubt require fiscal assistance in this noble quest for sweet obliteration, so feel free to drop a few bucks in the ol’ tip jar, (now accepting, you guessed it, PayPal, Cash App, AND Venmo) because I actually think about matadors quite a bit, thanks to that one Bugs Bunny short.
Or you can share this post on social media, sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com, and follow @john_luzar over at the Bad Place, for free! Stay safe out there, m’lovelies…
Say, Why Not Have One Really FRIENDLY Day Instead? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
At the rate we’re normalizing this shit, within five years we’ll be lamenting the commercialization of the official Day of Violence. Your kids’ll come home from school hopped up on sugar from the candy in the lynched Pence piñata, and the whole family’ll gather in the living room, to sip mulled horse dewormer while rewatching all those corny Lifetime specials, where the disillusioned big city girl returns to her hometown and reunites with the (Proud) boy next door to burn down all the ethnic restaurants on Main Street.
(I bet you know this by now, but if you click this link, you’ll be whisked away to a magical land of links n’ shininess; https://showercapblog.com/say-why-not-have-one-really-friendly-day-instead/)
Aw, who’re we to begrudge our proto-fascist brothers and sisters their “one really violent day,” anyhow? One day of dictatorship, one Kristallnacht, bomb threats and half price appetizers during happy hour every other Tuesday, surely that’s fair.
Yeah, shit’s getting downright freaky, here in the closing weeks of the 2024 campaign. In Off-Brand Orbán’s defense, his assessment, that driving millions of brainwashed voters insane with fear and hate represents his best chance of avoiding prison time, is probably accurate.
Faraway caravans are so 2018, now migrants are about to “walk into your kitchen and cut your throat." Memories of playground nicknames like Crooked Hillary and Sleepy Joe seem almost whimsical as he snarls that his opponent is “mentally impaired,” in between rants about waterless restrooms and former hetero life mate Kim Jong-un’s plot to assassinate him.
In such context, Jack Smith’s new filing probably hit the Children of the Candy Corn as welcome confirmation of their Turd Emperor’s willingness to actually commit the crimes most wannabe autocrats only fantasize about.
I suppose the biggest takeaway from the filing was that one insurrectionist shitbag’s “make them riot” line, shocking evidence that the massive conspiracy that lost more than 50 court cases actually accomplished one of its goals.
Anyway, I understand why the Dotard’s wranglers pulled him out of that 60 Minutes interview; aside from their entirely reasonable fear of granting the electorate a second side-by-side comparison with Vice President Harris, he’s certainly colicky enough these days to issue orders more specific than “stand back and stand by.”
Not that his stochastic murder mob really needs concrete direction. Let’s round up a few headlines from our exceptionally healthy democracy, shall we? I don’t really know how to make jokes about this shit, so maybe just imagine Stephen Miller taking a pie to the face after each one:
An Ohio Businessman Faces Death Threats for Praising His Haitian Workers
As election threats rise, Justice Dept. says its options are limited
Philly-Area Republican Couple Threatened After Filming Kamala Harris Ad
…yeah, I dunno, I think they’re gonna have trouble squeezing everything into just one day. (Did the pie thing help? No? Well, I tried.)
Oh, I almost forgot to mention it, but in a second Trump term, in addition to the menstrual surveillance and legal retaliation targeting political opponents, there will be no overtime. Populism sure is wacky.
Well, JD Vance poured himself into his very best skin suit, lewdly cooed “I’d fuck me” to his reflection, and ventured out to play Normal Human Boy for the duration of the vice presidential debate. And y’know what? Since the moderators never asked him to order donuts, he almost pulled it off, but for the stuck hog squeal he emitted upon having one of his racist lies fact-checked.
JD needs his lies like he needs Peter Thiel’s money. Ol’ Timmy Walz really flummoxed him with that exchange on the 2020 election, too. “C’mon, you gotta let me have the BIG lie, that’s Unca Donnie’s favorite!”
In the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Helene, Joe Biden and Kamala Harris rowed from house to house, looting Real Americans’ homes of belovéd family heirlooms to ship to Ukraine and/or undocumented immigrants. FEMA spokesman Notseth Rich proclaimed the disaster “the most successful test to date” of the Deep State’s weather modification technology, though they’re optimistic that as soon as 2035, they’ll be able to target Republican voters in their beds, while leaving neighboring drag queen story hours unscathed.
…that’s what I read online, anyway. One wonders, with our misinformation-mangled media ecosystem, which will have further reach: Trump’s malicious lies about the current administration’s response, or the firsthand witness accounts of his own politicization of disaster relief? Guess we’ll find out November 5th.
Either way, somebody should ask Marjorie Taylor Greene if there’s anything those Jewish space lasers can’t do? Wildfires, hurricanes, no doubt they make julienne fries.
Apparently Melania tried to charge CNN a quarter of a million dollars for an interview, no doubt buoyed by her recent success in extorting similar sums from the Log Cabin Republicans, and while I admire the confidence, you’re probably only gonna see numbers like that from groups fearing imprisonment in camps in the Reich to come.
Amazingly, that merits mere runner-up status to this week’s champion grifter: Oklahoma Schools Superintendent Ryan Walters, who hatched a dorky little plot to steer his nowhere-near-constitutional order for 55,000 Bibles for use in public schools to his favorite celebrity rapist. He’s not gonna fuck you, Ryan.
I see Tom Cotton hasn’t allowed the calamitous unpopularity of the idea to dampen his dream of gutting Obamacare. I’m guessing injuries sustained at the hands of law enforcement while exercising what you quaintly believe to be your “free speech rights” will not be covered under whatever Tom and his fashy friends deign to leave us with, so this feels like a good spot to link to the Tester, Allred, and Mucarsel-Powell fundraising sites.
God will have his vengeance for separating Tina Peters from her precious “magnetic mattress” for the next nine years…according to Tina Peters. Not sure if the abovementioned deity was consulted in Peters’ plot to hack state election systems on behalf of a treasonously deranged bedding merchant, but best brace for a plague of unusually unintelligent locusts, just in case.
Impending Klobuchar belt notch Royce White apparently believes “the bad guys won in WWII,” so I guess Black Nazis are a bonafide thing, who knew?
Tennessee Congresscreep Tim Burchett called George Soros “a money changer of the worst kind,” which I think means he’s extra Jewish.
Somehow, despite the normally foolproof strategy of betting everything on white supremacists and the inherent coolness of the letter “x,” Elon Musk has managed to piss, fritter, and donkey punch away nearly 80% of Twitter’s value. That said, industry insiders expect the “free blue checkmark with every cross burning” promotion slated for Black Friday weekend to turn the beleaguered social media platform’s fortunes around.
In contrast, the Biden/Harris Administration remains the same job-creatin’, strike-avertin’, disaster-relievin’ machine it’s always been, but polls say Americans narrowly prefer the rapist who told us to drink bleach to steward the economy. You see why I drink.
Longtime readers no doubt recognize the transition to the traditional Rattling of the Tip Jar, styled as a “beer fund” as part of my adorable Drunken Scamp in a Bathrobe and Luchador Mask persona, “Shower Cap.” Now accepting Cash App, Venmo, and even PayPal.
Or, for the low, low cost of absolutely nothing, you can share this post on social media, join the email list at showercapblog.com, or follow @john_luzar on what’s left of Twitter. Whatever you do, or don’t do, stay safe out there, my friend…
Beware Adjudicated Rapists Offering Protection, and Other Unnecessary Proverbs (Ferret/ShowerCap)
Don’t let the lamestream liberal media fool you, ladies, Donald Trump will be your protector. (“Protector” is a synonym for “rapist,” right? I missed a few English classes, back in the day.)
(Hey look, it’s the obligatory link to my blog site, and all the helpful news links found there: https://showercapblog.com/beware-adjudicated-rapists-offering-protection-and-other-unnecessary-proverbs/)
Now, don’t worry your pretty little heads over the fine print, but some exclusions do apply. No protection will be offered to “dumb as a rock bimbos” like MSNBC’s Stephanie Ruhle, obviously. Should, at any point, any blood come out of your wherever, protection will be rescinded.
Women who recount their sexual assault at Trump’s hands in election season ads probably shouldn’t get their hopes up, though there’s certainly strength in numbers.
Otherwise, you’re in for so dang much protection, “you will no longer be thinking about abortion,” mostly because you’ll be jailed for criticizing the illegitimate SCOTUS majority that stole your bodily autonomy rights in the first place.
Protection of Ukrainian women is to be outsourced to Vladimir Putin. Haitian women are to be preserved as scapegoats, and fodder for the Two Minutes Hate, have fun with that.
Incidentally, it’s no longer just Springfield, OH basking in the warmth of Off-Brand Orbán’s magnanimous protection, (and maybe bomb threats aren’t considered symbols of security in whatever shithole you’re from, but when you’re here in ‘Murica, you’ll do things our way, by gum) now Aurora, CO and Charleroi, PA’re getting a taste of the immigrant-demonizing fun, too.
“Gosh, Mom, d’ya think maybe someday, Donald Trump might terrorize the migrants in our town with a reckless campaign of racist lies?”
“Well, Timmy, if you eat your peas, and he gets tired of watching people leave his boring-ass rallies early because even a cultist can endure just so much ranting about Kamala Harris inventing a fake McDonald’s career for whatever reason, and if you boo Zelensky really hard, anything’s possible in America!”
Truly anything. Why, for the first time since Steve King, a Republican Congressman was officially deemed…too racist! Poor, dumb Clay Higgins must’ve fallen asleep at the back of the ghost bus during the meeting, he figured anything shy of the N word was fair game.
Clay tweeted out a little locker room talk, assuming the locker in question stores Klan robes. To hear Moses Johnson tell it, the backlash drove Higgins deep into prayer, where I guess God told him to delete the post, while offering a defiant non-apology, which was good enough for the Speaker, who believes in redemption…for unrepentant bigots.
Speaking of, Mike Lindell offered his Hitlerest discount code to date, pitching shoddy pillows to savvy white supremacists at the low, low, (and subtle, subtle) price of $14.88. Lindell claims this embrace of widely known neo-Nazi symbolism is mere coincidence, and golly, as the only lackluster bedding merchant to participate in the attempted overthrow of the federal government, I figure he’s earned the benefit of the doubt.
Free speech absolutist Elon Musk has taken to banning Xwitter accounts that share the leaked opposition dossier the Dotard campaign ignored in lashing themselves to the electoral anchor some call JD Vance. Solid plan, bro. Now if you can just figure out some way to purge the information superhighway of every single trace of every single moment of Vance’s time as a public figure, he can begin the long, arduous climb out of the Lollapalooza outhouse where his approval numbers currently reside.
You’ll probably want to start with all the things he used to say about “America’s Hitler,” before he came to see greater profit potential in obsequious hate-mongering. Don’t miss these new revelations, when JD groused his future running mate “thoroughly failed to deliver on his economic populism” amidst the multitudinous other debacles of his disastrous term.
Then you’d best scrub all evidence of the company Vance keeps, lest the public discover his pal Tucker Carlson’s conversations with Roseanne Barr, about how us libs eat not just cats and dogs, but human babies. (Please. As if I could afford baby in this economy.) Probably wise to preemptively sweep his upcoming appearance on Christofascist Lance Wallnau’s traveling blasphemy tour under the rug, too.
Oh, and make sure to wipe out the egg thing! JD had the grocery store set up just how he likes it, full of normal, human shoppers primed for the normal, human interactions that are his forte, plus plenty of egg cartons, astronomically marked up, in Kamala’s own handwriting, but alas, tricksy Haitian migrants switched the price tags a split second before the cameras started rolling.
Those bastards at Newsmax settled their defamation suit with Smartmatic, cheating us out of what would’ve been an absolutely hilarious trial. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see these voting machine companies get the justice they’re owed, but just once, we deserve to watch some scumbag lawyer squirm their way through “well, Your Honor, uncritically platforming the nonsensical ravings of a self-proclaimed ‘cactus artist’ seemed like solid journalistic practice at the time, because, um…wow, we really didn’t settle, huh?”
RFK Jr. has managed to keep busy since dropping out of the Presidential race, fighting to get added to some state’s ballots, but removed from others, depending on his rapey new boss’ needs, while using his platform as a campaign surrogate to raise awareness for a cause near and dear to every right-thinking patriot’s heart: American teens’ decreased sperm count. Big congrats to any and all journalists who may’ve blown up their careers sexting this whale-decapitating, teen-sperm-count-obsessed nepo baby.
The dastardly Deep State treacherously targeted Democratic New York City Mayor Eric Adams, in retribution for kinda sorta staking out ground in the general vicinity of Trump’s position on immigration, surely. Particularly wily of them to entrap Adams into leaving a genuinely buffoonish trail of evidence of his crimes, but that’s how they getcha.
I see Rudy Giuliani collided with yet another branch on his long, slow, slapstick plummet from the Tree of Consequences, getting officially disbarred in Washington, D.C. And while I certainly enjoyed that, he’s been disbarred before, y’know? I need new, boundary-pushing Rudy comeuppance content, ideally some sort of pratfall into livestock excrement. Fresher the better, if I’m allowed requests.
In the unlikely event that there’s a spare hundred grand in your bank account after the Trump Bucks and Bibles and NFTs, (to say nothing of the tithe for your portion of the Turd Emperor’s massive legal debts) well, why not piss it away on a shitty Trump watch? Take a number and form a reasonably orderly throng at the trough, ya fuckin’ rubes.
Mass resignations rocked Mark Robinson’s “gubernatorial campaign,” likely owing to the staff’s fear of getting pissed on, cuz the Nazi stuff didn’t seem to bother anybody when the candidate was enthusiastically bellowing “some folks need killing.” Reports that Robinson vindictively peed at/upon departing staffers as they fled are unconfirmed at press time, though rumors abound over at Nude Africa.
In a probable violation of House ethics rules, freshman Republican Congresscreep Anthony D’Esposito hired both his lover and his fiancée’s daughter, a scandal so quaint and old-fashioned as to merit bullying within the feral MAGA caucus. “Whatsamatter, Anthony? Scared to take a high school girl to a drug-fueled sex party? Oh, you’ve got a mistress? That’s adorable, have you paid for her abortion yet? Call me when you get caught trying to bribe staffers into carrying your child, dork.”
Like, look at Marjorie Taylor Greene’s boyfriend, urging people to ethnically profile voters at their local precinct, and still has time to Karen the fuck out over being denied bottomless salad bar privileges at Jason’s Deli. You’re a fucking amateur, D’Esposito.
Lindsey Graham took a little weekend getaway to Nebraska, hoping to convince the state’s Republicans to change the rules at the last possible moment, to award the Dotard the 2nd district’s electoral vote without all that pesky democracy. Lindsey being Lindsey, he failed completely, the latest setback in his quest to reclaim that spot at the foot of the bed down in Marm-a-Lago from Jason Miller.
Tommy Tuberville referred to Vice President Harris as “the first-ever AI presidential candidate,” further evidence that there are no more than nine words in the entire English language he understands. In a different time and place, be would’ve called her the “Y2K candidate,” or the “Syringe in a Pepsi Can candidate.”
A Harris campaign office in Tempe, Arizona was damaged by gunfire, prompting soul-searching, apologies, and a movement-wide pledge throughout MAGA culture to tone down the anti-Democratic rhetoric. Or at least that’s what the flying pig told me.
Apparently, Mitt Romney is preparing for life as an enemy of the state under a restored Turd Reich, bullet-proofing the car elevator, bodyguards for the dressage horses, that sort of thing. Shame he won’t enjoy the same protection as all those lucky ladies, don’tcha think?
Alex Jones’ ill-gotten assets are, at long last, to be auctioned off to pay the $1.4 billion he owes the Sandy Hook families he terrorized for years. I’m thinking about making an offer, so forgive me for rattling the ol’ tip jar a little more vigorously this week.
Normally, I ask for a few bucks for beer money, (now accepting Venmo, Cash App and PayPal, by the way) but in my quest to lead Jones’ misguided flock back to the light, I may have to match InfoWars’ full street value, currently estimated as high as $42.58 plus those expired soup cans at the back of the pantry you’ve been meaning to throw out.
Or, as always, support these blatherings for free, by sharing ‘em on social media, signing up on the email list at showercapblog.com, or following @john_luzar over at the House Elon Wrecked. And for the love of Pete, stay safe out there, my friends…
Pet Eating, Black Nazis...Are We Absolutely Certain This is Real Life? (Ferret/Shower Cap)
Well, this time, the Secret Service caught the little dipshit before he could get any rounds off, but honestly, if you don’t get to wear a ceremonial ear diaper, does it even count as an assassination attempt?
(You know the drill. Links n’ bright shiny colors await ye here: https://showercapblog.com/pet-eating-black-nazisare-we-absolutely-certain-this-is-real-life/)
Anyway, we’re supposed to cut it out with the “rhetoric” now, about the military cemetery-defiling adjudicated rapist who tear-gassed peaceful protesters in Lafayette Square, because pointing out that he’s a threat to democracy JUST BECAUSE he tried everything he could think of to overturn the election he lost, up to and including inciting a lynch mob, might endanger him further, which is no laugher matter, unlike that time Paul Pelosi got attacked by a hammer-wielding psychopath, that was hilarious.
Look, political violence is always, always wrong, most especially when it would cheat the world of the party we’ll get to throw when that soft, sloppy sack of shit dies in prison. That’s when JFK Jr.’s coming back, y’all, flying a plane carrying Prince, Tom Petty, and a couple dozen enchanted, bottomless kegs. Do not fuck that up for the rest of us, we fucking well deserve it.
All Elon Musk wants to know is when’s somebody gonna get around to shooting at some Democrats for a change? To his credit, he did stop shy of offering his legion of incel fanboys a bounty (or fifty percent off a blue checkmark for six months, anyhow) to do the deed, which I suppose might score him a point or two during his forthcoming interrogation by the Secret Service.
(Of course, the Dotard will never serve a day behind bars, not with his own personal, pet Chief Justice working pro bono, but we may as well enjoy the fantasy. Oooo, I just decided the guards found him in the fetal position, orange jumpsuit bunched up around his ankles, one tiny hand clutching his withered, dusty member; the other, Ivanka’s senior yearbook portrait.)
The Lügenpresse would have you believe JD Vance has been spewing racist lies, for they fail to appreciate the brilliance of his strategy of “creating stories,” about a horde of tabby-devouring Haitians, in order to draw attention to real issues, such as the increased murder rate in Springfield, Ohio, caused by the surge in admittedly-not-pet-eating migrants.
“But that’s not true either!” you protest. Ha ha ha! Poor fools! Do you not see, Vance has cleverly concocted a story-within-a-story! The pet-eating lies were the shiny bauble to capture your attention, the murder rate lies drew you into the labyrinth, where you, you sad, deceivéd libtard, would have no choice but to face the inconvenient truth, that while these migrants may be neither noshing upon Rover nor murdering anybody at all, they’re certainly spreading diseases like HIV at a rate unseen in poor, besieged Springfield!
…which is, of course, also entirely untrue.
Ah, but only now do you begin to appreciate the intricately structured fiction JD has woven, lie collapsing into lie, like a doughy, subpar, white boy fractal, leading to the ultimate truth, not about Springfield, or its essentially upstanding migrant community, but about the Republican Party’s nominee for Vice President of the United States: that he is racist trash, who would happily see residents of the state he represents terrorized by a hate mob before abandoning his vicious little fabrication.
He knew it was bullshit from the very start, by the way. Seems the hogwash that launched a thousand bomb threats originated with a single police report, from a single citizen sleuth, who found some meat in her yard, and, with Holmesian precision, deduced, “why, this meat belongs to my very own kitty-cat, butchered by the Haitian neighbors!” from the available clues, which included, “I have temporarily lost track of my cat’s whereabouts,” and “I am an incurable bigot.”
Pretty airtight, you’ll agree. That the cat was later discovered, uneaten, might give one pause, sure, but don’t let me interrupt you if you were menacing a grade school or anything.
What’s tragic is, Vance wasn’t always such an unrepentant hatemonger, though he’s actually attempted to delete any evidence of that. Anyway, when he’s not siccing white nationalist harassment mobs on his own constituents, JD likes to unwind by plotting the reversal of Obamacare’s protections for Americans with preexisting conditions, and, you know, the sofa thing.
The moment we’ve all been waiting for finally arrived, when Donald Trump unveiled the vulnerable minority group he plans to blame for his imminent electoral defeat. Can I get a drum roll please? Oh wow, this envelope sure is sealed tight, gimmie a sec…okay, got it. And the scapegoat issssssss…JEWS! Obviously, they were heavy favorites. This is Jews’ 2,539th consecutive win in this category.
Golly, there’s so much hate in the news these days, it’s kinda depressing. We could use a lil’ palate cleanser, don’tcha think? Some kitten videos, or OOO WAIT I KNOW! Wanna hear something adorable? Mike Johnson tried to pass a funding bill this week! He held a widdle pwess confwence an’ everything! I’m sure he’ll navigate the Dotard’s shutdown threat with grace and aplomb, like the big, tuff House Speaker he is!
Somehow, in between all the trials and golfing, Off-Brand Orbán found time to launch his very own cryptocurrency, (RapeCoin) which has to be the grifter singularity. Money invested in Trump crypto isn’t merely lost, it disappears entirely from this plane of reality, as though it never existed at all. For pity’s sake, at least get an NFT out of it, ya rubes.
Should he prevail in November, Mark Robinson would become America’s first Black, Nazi Governor, though I personally wouldn’t commission artwork for the commemorative stamp just yet. Maybe something nice and Rockwell-y, of his sister-in-law pissing on him during anal intercourse.
Mark apparently mused that slavery should be brought back, so he could “buy a few,” which gives him something in common with Minnesota state Representative Jeff Dotseth. Now, nobody likes the rule of three more than me, but there’s no way we’d get three pro-slavery statements from Republicans in just one short wee-hang on, I’m being handed an update…
Anyway, seems “Pastor” Robinson enjoys Mein Kampf almost as much as getting peed on by his sister-in-law, which is to say…a lot. Yes, we’ve learned a great deal about Mark this week, for example: he’s learning German, he has an Ashley Madison account, and he will not be the next Governor of North Carolina.
In contrast, all Matt Gaetz did was take a 17-year-old high school junior to a “drug-fueled sex party.” Super gross for sure, but no pee, no Hitler. I mean, obviously, throw both of ‘em into a deep, dark hole in the ground. I assume there’re differences between the Nazi hole and the pedophile hole, but I’ll leave that to Dante.
Former Turd Reich Spokesfascist Sarah Huckleberry Slanders attempted to shame Vice President Harris for her (biological) childlessness, claiming her own children “keep (her) humble,” which, um, no. No they do not. Demonstrably. You could occasionally detect the faintest hint of embarrassment in Sean Spicer’s demeanor, but Sarah’s sneering disdain for the truth is about as close to humility as the White Sox are to playoff contention.
Trump Administration EPA officials illegally retaliated against whistleblower scientists, who obstructed the return to American Greatness™️ with killjoy reports finding new chemicals “caused miscarriages and birth defects in rats,” along with similar petty complaints. I mean, how’re we supposed to develop mutant powers without chemically induced birth defects, ever think of that?
When the texts chronicling this misbegotten stretch of American history are written, the phrase “Rudy Giuliani utterly failed” will appear more than once. Hell, historians will link those four words to a hotkey, saving hours of labor. “Rudy Giuliani utterly failed to book the Four Seasons.” “Rudy Giuliani utterly failed to realize he was in a Borat movie.” “Rudy Giuliani utterly failed to walk ten steps during the RNC.”
Anyhoo, his latest utter failure was to “establish personal jurisdiction” in the nuisance defamation lawsuit he filed against President Biden, but next week could be literally anything. Maybe he gets his dick stuck in something, perhaps a toaster, perhaps an owl, who can say? It’s the magic of Rudy Giuliani!
Look, we’ve all been misconstrued from time to time, and Rich Lowry stands before you today asking to be judged not by the slur which may or may not’ve been peeking coquettishly out the door of his subconscious, but by the years of ignorant garbage he has written and published, much of which has been every bit as racist, but, y’know, way politer. Six of one, half dozen of the other, says I.
Melania Trump asks, “Why do I stand proudly behind my nude modeling work?” I really don’t care. Do U? “Why has the media chosen to scrutinize my celebration of the human form in a fashion photo shoot?” she continues, citing scrutiny which is occurring nowhere on Earth. Given her ol’ ball n’ chain’s insistence that there was an audience at the debate he just lost, I’m starting to think maybe narcissistic hallucinations are sexually transmitted.
Speaking of the debate, I guess some folks need conspiracy theories to explain the Manchurian Manchild’s self-immolation, which I suppose makes sense, because “the game show host I worship proved incapable of resisting the bait he knew in advance his opponent would dangle” must be a difficult thing to say to the mirror.
Near as I can figure, an ABC whistleblower alleged collusion between the network and the Harris campaign, died in a mysterious car accident, and had their face eaten by Hillary Clinton and Huma Abedin in a satanic ritual, all without ever existing in the first place. Neat trick. Good enough for Ted Cruz, apparently.
In a party where your presidential nominee uncritically platforms the fabrications of literal, actual neo-Nazis, it can be difficult to stand out as unusually hateful, but I guess Louisiana Senator John Kennedy likes a challenge.
Like the abandoned-in-a-dumpster love child of Joe McCarthy and Foghorn Leghorn, John managed to squeeze a genuinely impressive number of Islamophobic stereotypes into a brief, TV-friendly window during a Judiciary Committee hearing, culminating in telling the Arab American witness he was berating, “You should hide your head in a bag.” The hearing was on hate crimes, incidentally, which, it appears, the Senator is for.
On his Senate campaign website, Eric Hovde describes himself as a “classic entrepreneur,” who “made a career out of rolling up his sleeves, getting businesses back on the right track, and building for the future,” oddly omitting the “smuggling $26 million worth Mexican drug cartel money over the border by airplane” part, most likely because his sleeves were buttoned at the time, surely.
Neuticles, the company that manufactures cosmetic testicle prosthetics for neutered dogs, announced a massive expansion into southern Lebanon, wonder what that’s about?
Ok, I definitely nailed the whole toned-down rhetoric thing. I think we can all agree, the real threat to democracy is the emptiness of my beer fridge. If I’m forced to spend even a moment of this weekend sober, the terrorists win, so if you care at all about freedom, toss a buck or two into my tip jar, now accepting Cash App, PayPal AND Venmo!
Or, share this rant on social media, follow @john_luzar over on Elon’s fashy playpen, or sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com for free! Until we meet again…stay safe out there, m’lovelies…
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