Mike Pence is the Patron Saint of Mediocre White Dudes, and the Roman God of Failing Upwards.
A Democrat in his youth, Pence, like many men of limited intelligence, turned to religious conservatism for the convenience of being able to end arguments by claiming God shares his every fear and prejudice, while forgiving his every shortcoming, how convenient.
Secretary of State
Mike Pompeo is one of those performatively pious fake Christians who loves using his loudly-claimed-but-seldom-followed faith like a cudgel while ignoring every single word of the actual Bible, including “and” and “the.”
Secretary of State
Over the course of three decades, Rex Tillerson fucked, bribed, and murdered his way to the top of Exxon Mobil, like some sort of jowlsy Eva Peron.
William Barr actually taught me a valuable lesson. See, I didn’t look too closely at Bill when he was nominated to be Attorney General. After Jeff “Too Racist for the 80’s” Sessions and the masculine toilet guy, honestly, he looked like a nice, refreshing, safe, traditional Republican. An institutionalist who could bring a little much-needed stability.
And then he turned out to be a fascist, and one of the most dangerous enemies of democracy in American history. Whoops. My bad.
Secretary of the Treasury
Steve Mnuchin, like his namesake, the Noise You Make When You’re Dry Heaving After Getting Food Poisoning From Eating Truck Stop Gas Station Roller Hot Pockets on a Road Trip, is deeply unpleasant, and may result in the involuntary voiding of foul-smelling bodily fluids.
Secretary of Defense
Chief of Staff
National Security Advisor
Holy shit, there are Generals all over the place these days, aren’t there?
Retired General James Mattis serves as Secretary of Defense. Retired General John Kelly ran Homeland Security for a bit, before becoming the Lead Executive Branch Babysitter, excuse me, Chief of Staff. H.R. McMaster’s the National Security Advisor, and hell, he’s still on active duty.
Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, third generation of his family to carry the name of a Confedarate piece of trash and also a second Confederate piece of trash, is living his dream. As Velveeta Goebbels’ Attorney General, he’s turning back the clock to a time when women and minorities knew their place, and mediocre white dudes like himself got to run everything, even if they weren’t especially bright.
Ryan Zinke is like if the crappiest robot in Westworld escaped and jumped into conservative politics. He’s such a cartoon cowboy, I bet his right boot says “Andy” on the bottom.
Secretary of Commerce
When a witch’s curse transformed his master into a Beast and his fellow servants into household objects, Wilbur Ross became a decorative garden gnome. Unlike the rest of his compatriots, he ventured out into the world to make his fortune in the realm of shady international finance and money laundering, and when True Love’s Kiss lifted the curse, Wilbur was too far away for the enchantment to reverse, and thus he remains trapped in gnome form forever.
Secretary of Health and Human Services
If the Hippocratic Oath is binding in any sort of spiritual sense, Tom Price is royally fucked, y’all. There is some straight Dante shit awaitin’ him in the afterlife.
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Dr. Ben Carson is only in politics because he was rude President Obama to his face. At the 2013 National Prayer Breakfast, a traditionally non-political event, Dr. Ben, having been invited as the keynote speaker, decided to use his time to shit on the President and his policies.
Secretary of Education
Betsy DeVos is what happens when bored white ladies have enough money to really fuck shit up. Turns out, if you’re born rich and marry richer, you don’t have to settle for a book club, you can buy yourself a whole cabinet department!
Administrator of the EPA
Scott Pruitt, like a lot of boys his age, grew up watching Captain Planet cartoons. Unlike most boys his age, he decided that the various sludge-smog-and-toxic-waste-slinging villains were the role models for him.
Ok, fine. Pruitt is ten years too old to have grown up on Captain Planet, but fuck you, that’s a good opening paragraph. Make your own fucking website, you don’t like it.
Chief of Staff
Nobody wants to be Reince Priebus when they grow up. He’s just so immediately recognizable as a weaselly little tapeworm of a man, y’know?
Reince Priebus is the sort of person who would be played by Brad Dourif in a film.
Steve Bannon played Bob Ewell in a high school production of To Kill a Mockingbird, and liked it so much he decided to stay in the character for the rest of his life.
A self-described Leninist, and an outspoken populist*, Bannon wants to kidney-punch the administrative state, give it a wedgie, and steal its lunch money.
Jared Kushner was born on third base and thinks he invented baseball.
Jared’s dad, Charles Kushner, went to jail for tax evasion, illegal campaign donations, and, ahem, “witness tampering,” by which I mean he set his brother-in-law up with a hooker (not, I’m sad to report, of the Pissing Russian variety) and recorded their genital-smushing in order to blackmail him.
Daddy’s Little Girl
Ivanka Trump is what happens when you cross Gwyneth Paltrow with Mussolini’s dumbest, laziest aide-de-camp. Watching her try to sell her father’s fascism as some sort of pro-woman lifestyle brand, marketed in the sickliest imaginable shade of pink, has been one of the most bizarre subplots of this nightmare we can’t seem to pinch ourselves out of.
So, while Melania Trump is perhaps not as shitty as many of the crooks, Nazis, and Nazi crooks who inhabit her dirtbag husband’s world, she manages to impressively shitty in her own right.
When you worked for Akin, things weren’t simple
Cuz he got caught on tape
With legitimate rape
Senior Advisor for Policy
Why is it always the shittiest imaginable white dudes who turn out to be white supremacists?
Stephen Miller, who started balding eleven seconds after his conception, has by all accounts been a sack of monkey shit pretty much every single minute of his life.
Director of Communications
Oh wow, this new Communications Director looks like a real character, huh?
Where to begin? Ok, Anthony Scaramucci first came to –
Wait, what? Really?
White Supremacist Multi-Tool
Kris Kobach is like the protagonist of the white supremacist version of one of those Disney movies where a kid learns to chase his dreams, no matter how big. The kid gets tired of the monotonous grind of burning crosses on just one lawn at a time, and dreams of burning a cross big enough for the whole dang country!
Maybe he has a talking/singing Confederate flag for a sidekick. Named “Bedford.”
Roving Freelance Fascist
As seen in the famed documentary RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, when the Ark of the Covenant was opened on an uncharted island north of Crete, the burning light that issued thereof reduced the Nazi soldiers present to piles of ash and molten flesh. In time, the rains washed the fascist bio-goo into the island’s sewage system, where it mixed with the shit and piss and used tampons and such, and in time it congealed, took the shape of a man (albeit an unattractive one), slapped on a pair of glasses, and Sebastian Gorka was formed.
Speaker of the House
Paul Ryan was cloned from a single pubic hair plucked from Ayn Rand post-coitus and grown in a still in Charles Koch’s back yard.
Senate Majority Leader
Many years ago, Gamera was following the Grateful Dead on tour, and engaged in a brief-but-life-affirming affair with an Ohio River ‘gator that hung around Ma McConnell’s pig farm, picking off runts for sustenance. Nine months later, young Mitch emerged from a leathery egg, and devoured his fellow hatchlings, beginning his life-long love affair with hurting children.
Susan Collins is How It Happens Here, folks.
She’s supposed to be the rational centrist. The one who stands up to the increasingly-rabid gaggle of turd-spewing hyenas known as the Republican Party when they go too far. That’s whole point of Susan Collins. It’s the brand she’s been selling the people of Maine for years.
Anybody wondering if the GOP is still the party of Lincoln gets their answer whenever they take in James Daniel Jordan’s tension-racked, jacketless frame as he does his “indignant soccer dad demands to see a manager” routine during a committee hearing. Lincoln? That ship has sailed, caught fire, sunk, and been overrun by sea slugs and the ghosts of unusually shitty pirates. Sorry.
Official Sponsors of American Fascism
Chuck and Davey Koch decided that popping out of a rich lady’s vagina gave them the right to reshape the world however they saw fit, hurting whoever they wanted to in the process, and since the fundamental driving impulse of your average Republican politician is to sell out to the highest bidder, they haven’t exactly been proven wrong.
Wait, Not All the News is Soul-Crushingly Horrifying, What the Fuck is Going On?
While shit remains generally cray, it must be said shit is substantially less cray than at any point in recent memory, and with numerous decrayification initiatives already underway, and new ones launching all the time, we may yet live to see the day when shit is merely endearingly eccentric. For now, the news:
Well, for the first time in four years, the President of the United States isn’t a resentment-driven bigot manchild with a stale, maggot-chewed raisin for a brain*, and the Vice President isn’t afraid to be alone in a room with a member of a different gender, and malignant cable news pundits are no longer setting federal policy, and I can’t speak for y’all, but personally, I’ve spent the last few days experiencing a degree of exuberant bliss seldom witnessed outside shampoo commercials.
Joe n’ Kamala rolled up their freshly-inaugurated sleeves and got straight to work, cuz the Augean stables ain’t gonna clean themselves, folks. Stephen Miller’s pained shriek shattered windows for miles in every direction as the new administration announced a 100-day pause on most deportations, and the end of Big Stupid Wall construction. New oil and gas leases/drilling permits on U.S. lands and waters have also been paused, and the unceasing fire hose of fascist disinformation has finally, finally been shut off in the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room. This paragraph contains more good news than any six blogs I have written to date.
We’ve rejoined the World Health Organization and the Paris Climate Agreement and I think Luxembourg is willing to receive our diplomats again. Don’t tell Mike Pompeo, I wouldn’t want to interrupt his “swagger” time, when he dresses up in costumes and goose-steps around the backyard.
Reviews have not been universally positive, of course. The novel coronavirus which causes Covid-19 is reportedly incensed that the Biden Administration is rezoning the pandemic’s playground, which before Wednesday stretched, unobstructed, from sea to shining fucking sea. Still, how can you look at the dog-tired-yet-joyful relief on Dr. Fauci’s face and not share his optimism that, after months of a death cult’s mad mismanagement, we’re finally on track to get this shit under control?
Biden’s inaugural speech was lovely and inspiring and unifying, but science has yet to discover any substance or energy 21st century conservatives can’t wring victimhood from, and this was no exception. Joe was all, “White supremacists are bad! Terrorists are bad!” and Republicans were all, “Stop saying mean things about us,” and we went, “A-HA, you’re telling on yourselves,” and honestly, Rand Paul’s probably arguing in caucus meetings that it’d simplify things if they’d all just put on the damn hoods and be done it.
Meanwhile, there is no joy in BrainwashedDipshitRubeville, mighty Q has struck out. Again. Just like literally every single other time that demented loser cult promised anything at all, from mass arrests of child-trafficking liberal satanists to a coupon for a free soft drink with qualifying chalupa purchase. I’m told this experience has been quite traumatic for some of these creeps, to which I say, “Fuck you, when I found out the Easter Bunny was my dad, I got over it in about 40 seconds, and I was five.”
Speaking of the pathetic mewling of vanquished deadbeats, it appears the Proud Boys are throwing their loudest shitfit since Mom announced they’d have to pay for their own Hot Pockets and Capri Suns from now on, because Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot left them to rot in prison while merrily dispensing pardon after pardon for his rich chums.
Golly, what do you do when your Turd Emperor turns out to be just another run-of-the-mill normie cuck? I guess you could try getting a life, but I imagine one doesn’t label oneself a “proud” “boy” unless that particular ship sailed long ago.
Seems the Frothing HateYokel Caucus figures that “two weeks after we incited a white supremacist mob to storm this very building in search of Democrats to murder” is the appropriate moment in time to attempt to smuggle firearms onto the House floor. Look, Congressman Harris, it’s members of YOUR party who stand credibly accused of collaborating with bloodthirsty insurrectionists, so you’re going to need to figure out some way to manage whatever fears you have of Steny Hoyer tackling you without your precious weenie substitute.
Meanwhile, Marjorie Taylor Greene, freshly revealed as both a Sandy Hook AND 9/11 truther, in addition to her previously-disclosed delusions, has embarked on a fool’s quest** to impeach Joe Biden over crimes alleged by the elves that live in the fillings of her teeth. No, I don’t think John Boehner regrets retiring, why do you ask?
Mitch McConnell, never comfortable in the role of lawmaker, returned to his more familiar post as the fossilized mammoth turd obstructing the road to progress. Still, Wrinkly Gamera’s early demand, that Senate Dems unilaterally disarm, and abandon the threat to nuke the filibuster before a single legislative battle has even taken shape, has been rebuffed by shiny new Senate Majority Leader Chuck “I Am Unwilling to Publicly Reveal How Many Fucks I Have Left to Give at This Time” Schumer.
I see the Committee to Re-Elect the Taintfungus funneled millions of dollars, through shadowy shell companies, to many of the very seditionist turdnozzles who organized the terrorist attack on the Capitol earlier this month. Before long, we’re gonna find out Eric n’ Junior were down in that crowd, passing out meth and zip ties, aren’t we?
And as for Hairplug Himmler, so recently the cancer gnawing away at our minds and our hearts and our souls every motherfucking minute of every goddamn day, well, he’s…gone. Can’t even tweet.
I confess, while I’d long fantasized about the shackles snapping into place around those tiny, inadequate wrists the very moment Smilin’ Joe finished his oath, this is even better; diminished to nigh-nonexistence by his doomed criminal efforts to overturn his landslide defeat, Little Donnie One-Term slunk away to Marm-a-Lago, barely noticed, following an early morning sendoff attended by his loser family and about half a dozen of the clingiest remaining Trumpworld dingleberries, those lacking the brains (or, more likely, the options) to jump off the swiftly sinking Shartanic. Nowhere to hide from the loserstink he emits as though he were comprised of pure, radioactive Losernium. Perfect.
As expected, he issued a final round of largely appalling pardons, really rubbin’ the founding fathers’ noses in the powers they handed him. (In all fairness, boys, while I’m generally a fan of your Constitution, it appears y’all left some shit out.)
He also signed one last executive order, undoing his own earlier EO, establishing lobbying limitations and other ethics rules for his appointees, and god only knows why I’m writing this blog instead of sending Nigerian Prince emails to the drooling marks who actually fell for that “drain the swamp” shit.
So, a lot of folks have been asking what the big change in management means for Shower Cap’s Blog, and…the truth is, I’m not sure.
Trumpism clearly isn’t going anywhere, as the poo-flinging asylum Kevin McCarthy calls his caucus clearly demonstrates, so I imagine I’ll still have plenty to write about, but…maybe not quite as frequently as in the days of the Turd Reich. I kind of assume that as normalcy takes hold of the federal government, the ol’ Cap Signal (just a regular spotlight, but you hold a bottle of MGD in front of it) may sit idle for days at a time.
So maybe these posts will become a little less frequent. Once a week seems likely, but we’ll see how the headlines shake out. I’m gonna play it by ear for now.
Sign up for updates on the main page, follow @CapShower on Twitter, and we’ll figure it out. You certainly haven’t heard the last of me, and hey, just as my latest comic book, MINE, works its way through our poor, beleaguered postal system, work has begun on a new project, which looks to be extra fun for an audience of dedicated Resisters.
More on that soon. For now, stay safe out there, and why not take this weekend to celebrate our victory in the 2020 election for the 842nd time?
*Do maggots eat raisins? Nobody fact-check my shit, okay?
**No other kind is available to her, for obvious reasons.