Hey hey, Shower Captives! Wouldja believe this humble Resistance With Poo Jokes blog celebrated its second birthday just yesterday? If you promise to stick around for my terrible twos, I promise to make them filthier than ever, starting with this week’s insanity round-up, whaddya say?

Mitch McConnell is surprisingly thin-skinned for a power-crazed monster whose life’s work has been devoted to manipulating arcane procedural rules in the name of enshrining political power with an increasingly unpopular minority, and he is still bitching and moaning about his increasingly popular Moscow Mitch nickname. If you wanted people to like you, you shouldn’t have stolen a Supreme Court seat and broken the Senate, dude. Anyway, Wrinkly Gamera obviously doesn’t hate the name enough to allow election security legislation on the floor, because he is a traitor, which is why we started calling him #MoscowMitch in the first place.

The Pentagon announced the 127 construction projects they’re raiding in order to pay for the Manchurian Manchild’s wall-shaped monument to his own crippling insecurity. We’re talking about rebuilding hurricane-ravaged military bases. Rebuilding schools. Projects designed to protect our European allies from Russia. The funding is coming from a whole lotta places, not one of which is Mexico. Numerous Republican Senators facing reelection in 2020, including Cory Gardner, Thom Tillis, and Martha McSally, proudly showed off their conditioning, standing silently by as their Turd Emperor pulled millions of dollars out of their states. That’ll be fun to explain on the campaign trail!

And now some of the scuzzier crotchwarts on Team Treasonweasel are raising millions to target the media, from outlets like CNN and WaPo down to individual journalists and editors, which I guess is the sort of thing you really have to do when the mere act of reporting the objective truth is so devastating to your candidate and your party. Still, it would be nice if these fucks stopped trying to burn the whole country down just so they can rule the ashes.

I don’t know what the fuck Boris Johnson is up to over in England, other than trying to cram all of Donald Trump’s bungling authoritarianism into what’s looking to be a roughly-equivalent-to-Hugh-Grant’s-screen-time-in-Love-Actually-length tenure at 10 Downing Street. Near as I can tell, he released such a smelly, autocratic, fart in Parliament that he lost his majority on his very first vote, and now he wants to call a snap election, but the opposition won’t let him? What’s the pitch, anyway? “Holy fuck I’m historically bad at this job, please reappoint me to it?” The ads will be like, Boris striking himself in the temple and groin with a hammer, and then, after about thirty seconds, he hands Jeremy Corbyn a second hammer and invites him to join in the fun.

Still, this shit where 21 Tory MPs stood up to Johnson’s dictatorial power grab, at the expense of their own political careers, gives me serious conservative envy. A right wing party that actually sticks to their principles, and fights to preserve democracy? Wonder what that’s like. The Brits get Winston Churchill’s grandson, we’re stuck with Marco Rubio, fecklessly tweeting out Bible verses like a shitty page-a-day calendar while his boss fantasizes about proclaiming himself President for Life.

One of Mike Pompeo’s underlings tried to bribe a tanker captain into diverting his Iranian-owned ship to a Murica-friendly port, and because he is the stablest imaginable genius, he did it in an e-mail so the whole fucking world could learn about it after the fact. Yeah, if there’s a Trump Doctrine, it could be summarized as “Diplomacy by Mouth-Breathing Idiot.”

In that spirit, the Dotard has turned the Middle East peace process over to one of Jar-Jar’s dead-eyed dipshit sidekicks, a 29-year old who graduated from law school in 2016. At the rate we’re going, Diamond and Silk will be named joint ambassadors to Israel and Palestine by Xmas.

A government watchdog found that migrant children separated from their families under the Trump/Miller/Nielsen reign of terror are suffering from PTSD and other mental disorders, which of course was the entire point. You have to wonder, at what point in 2020 will Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot grow tired of spouting fake economic stats at his rube army, drop the flimsy veneer of basic human decency, and start bragging about his administration’s REAL accomplishments: children hurt, trauma inflicted, lives ruined? The cheers would be same, you know.

The gun lobby, so confident in their dominance they’ve apparently just been spending their money turning Wayne LaPierre’s every wish into reality, doesn’t seem to know how to cope with all the losing they’re experiencing now that Americans are finally fed the fuck up with their “look, it’s important to make things as easy as possible for murderers” agenda. Walmart, CVS, Walgreens, Kroger and other chains finally banned open carry in their stores, in a devastating to blow to Men Who Want Everyone Nearby to Know Exactly How Small Their Wangs Are, but an overdue victory for People Who Do Not Want to Get Shot to Death by the Above-Mentioned Men.

And with Beto O’Rourke making the rounds talking about assault weapon buybacks, the gun nut crowd is screechier than ever, arguing that such steps would lead to violence. Somebody should tell Meghan McCain and co. that “we have to let slobbering psychopaths keep their weapons of war or they’ll slaughter a bunch of strangers” isn’t making the argument you think it is.

The San Francisco Board of Supervisors went so far as to designate the NRA a domestic terrorist organization, and since those death merchants have racked up a body count that’s the envy of every murdering shitsack in ISIS, that seems reasonable to me.

So, I guess we have to talk about the Alabama thing.

I write this blog with one eye on the future alien archaeologists/anthropologists, unearthing the remnants of our bass-ackwards civilization, trying to make sense of just what the living fuck was going on in these Days of Bath Salts and Bat Guano. So, Future Alien Friends, no need to go back to your Future Alien Rosetta Stone to double-check the translation, I assure you all this really did happen. Yes, it defies all reason. We’re getting a lot of that kind of thing these days.

The long and short of it is, the President of the United States, possessed of the single most fragile ego in all human (and likely inhuman) history in spite of his not insubstantial powers, erroneously told the American people that parts of the state of Alabama were threatened by an incoming hurricane, Dorian. This was not true at the time he said it, and rather than simply admitting he was wrong, and this is probably the part you’re having trouble wrapping your multi-lobed alien brains around, he devoted every waking moment of the next several days of his life, at the expense of all his other duties, trying to “prove” he was right all along, and that Alabama, in all its child-molester-nominating glory, only dodged Dorian’s wrath at the last possible second.

The doddering old twit actually took a fucking marker (presumably because Mulvaney took away his crayons for crapping in Oval again) to a Dorian forecast map, doctoring it with his very own tiny, inadequate, fingers. Called up his dutiful propagandists at Fux Nooz to whinge that he’d been right all along. Raged on Twitter literally for days. Finally forced some poor Homeland Security advisor to fall on his sword and issue a statement saying “Mister Trump was right all along and frankly he should be crowned King of Alabama now.”

Anyway, if you’re hoping he’ll back down on his dumbfuck, self-destructive, trade war before the entire American economy looks like a Nick Nolte mugshot, I hope this episode is instructive for you. And know that he’ll be babbling about the damage Dorian did to Alabama, spittle dribbling down his chin, when they finally drag him away in chains.

If you’re like me, you probably liked, and continue to like, President Barack Obama. One of the underrated things about Obama was the way that nobody ever had any cause to write an entire motherfucking article about how, at a certain point in his presidency, he just flat out stopped doing any fucking work at all, in favor of incessant internet whining broken up by regular (taxpayer-funded) golf vacations. And no, I am certainly not advocating for a certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor to spend his days actually exercising the powers of his office, but maybe at some point we should hire somebody to at least periodically check the inbox before Justin Trudeau annexes New England.

Steve King sure has gone stir-crazy since he lost his committee assignments over his “wait I thought this was okay now that we elected Trump” open white supremacy. Now he’s drinking out of the toilet and telling everybody how much he loves it. Shitbag’s losing his mind, live, in front of the national media, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda here for it. (For extra King fun, check out the Atlantic’s piece on Steve’s loyal voters! Spoilers: they’re super racist!)

Actually the schadenfreude basket is overflowing with riches this week, since one of If the Dunning-Kruger Effect Was a Dude Jacob Wohl’s many scams finally caught up with him, and he’s now facing a felony charge, surely the first of many, in California. Young Jacob is like the stunted, subpar, version of the Wolf of Wall Street, and I think he’s gonna wind up with double the jail time and one less movie.

Look, you might want to take a break before reading further, I don’t want to be responsible for any ruptured diaphragms. If you have any laughter left to spare, however, you’ll be pleased to learn that Squeezably Soft Telefascist Sebastian Gorka has fallen so far from his heady days as a Shart House adviser that he’s now shilling literal fish oil, which is something I had no idea people actually did in real life. Anyway, if the endorsement of that soft Nazi somehow makes you more likely to buy anything, you don’t deserve money.

Is Mike Pants out? Seems President Gas Station Urinal Cake has latched onto the desperate, misguided hope that the women of America will forgive every sin, insult, and fuck-up, from Kavanaughty to the concentration camps, if it’s just Nikki Haley instead of Hairshirt Mike who pinch hits on overseas diplomatic trips whenever he feels like getting a little more golf in. I’m not a religious guy, but I am enjoying a fantasy of Pencey-Poo, standing before his maker, who angrily demands just why the fuck he pissed on every single sermon and commandment, only to walk away with nothing but a souvenir snow globe from Shart Garfunkel’s tacky-ass Irish golf resort.

Arizona Republithug Kelli Ward is as classy as ever, sending out a fundraising e-mail promising to stop Dem Senate candidate Mark Kelly “dead in his tracks.” Yes, that’s the same Mark Kelly who is married to Gabby Giffords. Yes, that’s the same Gabby Giffords who was shot in the head by a would-be assassin. As if I wasn’t already looking forward to defeating Martha McSally again next year.

And I see Howard Schultz finally caught up to the rather obvious fact that nobody wants Howard Schultz to be president, so he’s dropping his candidacy to spend more time with his pencil-drawing-of-Ben-Stein-on-a-piece-of-plain-cardboard charisma. We miss you already, Howard*.

Disappointing August jobs numbers show the poor, abused, Obama economy may finally be ready for the glue factory, especially after all that rock-headed trade war whipping. Fat Q*Bert headed into re-election with a self-inflicted recession on his resume will be like Ryan Reynolds trying to secure financing for a Green Lantern sequel, only with more senseless human suffering.

As if on cue, various state-level Republican parties are trying to call off their 2020 primaries and caucuses, because canceling elections is just the sort of thing you do when you’re a popular incumbent in a healthy democracy.

WaPo reports Hairplug Himmler is withholding $250 million in military aid from Ukraine unless they launch a bullshit investigation into a phony Joe Biden conspiracy theory, and this one hits every square on Dotard Bingo in one fell swoop: corruption, crime, fake news, destroying America’s most important alliances, and even a little groveling before Vlad Putin.

The latest from North Carolina slides rather nicely into my traditional good-news-at-the-end-to-wash-the-taste-of-hippo-shit-out-of-your-mouth slot, as a three-judge panel overturned the state’s Seriously Bro Who Do You Think You’re Fooling Republican gerrymander, ordering new maps right this goddamn minute, and no dessert for six months. Nice to win one every now and then, ain’t it?

Things are moving fast these days. By the time you read this, even more Republican Congressturds may have retired. Sharty McFly may have defended his Alabama mistake (not campaigning for Roy Moore, the hurricane one) as many as six thousand more times. And I know I missed some stuff, but I’m going to a ballgame tonight, cuz I need a fuckin’ BREAK, y’all. See you next week!

*Lie.