Say, that DNC sure was a nice change, wasn’t it? Like pressing a cool cloth on America’s fevered forehead. A cloth damp with decency. And yea, alongside this cloth shall we offer the Barf Bag of Restoration, that the nation might purge herself of her Nazi loser infestation. Anyway, I’ve got a whole blog filled with stupid shit like this, so read on IF YOU DARE.

Hey, before we get on with the usual chroniclin’, I am delighted to announce the launch of Shower Cap’s Fascist-Flushing 2020 Action Guide! We did a lot of good with the 2018 version, and we’ve been working hard to get this new one up. Lots of beloved Blue Wave freshmen to defend, plus a killer crop of challengers looking to swell their ranks. And don’t sleep on the crew working to take the Senate back!

God knows it’s more important than ever to pay attention to the fight for Congress, with the likes of Play-Interrupting Hategeyser Laura Loomer winning Republican primaries. Like, abominable ideology notwithstanding, Loomer is only even known for saying so much vile shit she got banned from social media, and then whining about it a whole fuckin’ bunch. That’s it. That’s the whole goddamn resumé. Does she even have a job? Have we already come to the point when shared bigotry is the sole trait Republican primary voters seek in their candidates? Fuck.

And then there’s the GOP’s gobsmackingly dangerous gambit to revive their ailing coaltion with an infusion of Vitamin Q. Watching that frothy mob of death cultists swarm over the rotting corpse of the Republican Party must be difficult for our NeverTrump chums, but I’ve seen enough zombie movies to know we need to set this fucker on fire (figuratively, calm down) before it gets up and starts chasing us again.

And now we’ve got the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor himself pimping these terrorist loons, because ONCE AGAIN somebody out there said, “well at least it can’t get any worse,” and God heard you. See, because these demented freaks hold him up as some paragon of pure, holy goodness*, and since How You Make Donald Trump Feel About Himself is the only metric the doddering old twit uses to make decisions, we suddenly find ourselves perched on a tightrope over a live volcano. My compliments to the chef, that was a really nice touch on your America-wrecking indoctrination scheme.

Since 2020 insists on dropping gobs of hippo shit rolled in broken glass on us every moment of every day, I have come to believe we must take our pleasures wheresoe’er we might find them. Eating your favorite meal from your favorite restaurant out of a styrofoam container on a park bench. Snagging the last 12-pack of Dr. Pepper at the store. Kanye West failing to qualify for the ballot in swing state after swing state.

It’s the little things, y’know? Things that make you go, “life is still good,” or “hot diggity damn, democracy might just survive the fucking winter.”

And I’ll take all the good news I can get on that front, because Government Cheese Goebbels is doing everything in his terrifyingly substantial power to ratfuck the Constitution to death. And I don’t know if that means physically fucking the Constitution with, like, live rat dildos until the Constitution has been pulverized to dust, or copulating with rats until the Constitution dies metaphorically, presumably for esoteric supernatural reasons, I agree the first one makes more sense, but I don’t want to stand in the reader’s way; you are free to visualize what you like.

ANYWAY.

It really looks like the big series finale will hinge on whether or not our heroes overcome the insidious bureaucratic fuckery of the dastardly Postmaster General, to ensure a free and fair election, so that the American people can peacefully overthrow the Hemorrhoid Emperor who brought blight and plague and unceasing fucking TWEETING down upon their beloved homeland. We don’t get any Avengers to fight this one for us; we’ve gotta be the Avengers, I call Captain America, obviously.

Now, this DeJoy bastard knows his future holds honey bunches of jail if the rule of law returns to America, so fucking of course he won’t reinstall the sorting machines, or reverse the policies that’ve slowed the mail so damn much, no matter how many baby chicks or U.S. veterans die. There are a lot of reasons why I hate Donald Trump, but his insistence on killing so many of us, it…it’s gettin’ to me, y’know?   

In fairness, “holy balls we need to cheat as hard as we possibly fucking can” is certainly a clear-eyed assessment of the Marmalade Shartcannon’s electoral prospects. Look, we’re Democrats, I understand we’re going to live in fear of the Magical Political Powers of Populist Dumbfucks for the rest of our lives, but seriously, the Yammering Yam decided, for no reason even approaching sanity, to demand a boycott of an American company that provides thousands of jobs in a win-or-die-in-prison swing state. Honestly, if I was Bill Stepien, I’d spend my time driving from precinct to precinct, smashing voting machines by hand.

…which is probably the backup plan if the Post Office shit doesn’t work out.

Or maybe it’s just to sit, pouting and cross-legged on the Oval Office floor, refusing to leave, and we have to call his mom, and it’s this whole embarrassing THING. Certainly Substitute Sarah Slanders Kayleigh McEnany isn’t ruling out the possibility, carefully reserving her scumfuck boss’ imagined right to unilaterally end the great American experiment.

Look Kayleigh, if we get to see you crooks dragged from the White House, wailing and clawing at the furniture, ultimately tossed into the very square you desecrated with your fascist police action like the wet sacks of trash you are, so much the fucking better.

Hey speaking of trash, if it isn’t our old friend Steve Bannon gettin’ his treasonous grifter ass arrested, and though he briefly escaped custody when his gin-soaked flopsweat caused his handcuffs to slip off, he has been arraigned and released on a $5 million bond, paid entirely in cash, the bills coated in a pus-like film, reeking of the dying biological emissions of some hideous, other-worldly lizard creature.

The arrest came from the very office Bilious Billy Barr recently failed to decapitate, utilizing, I kid you not, the elite operatives of the U.S. Post Office. And like, WE SEE YOU, WILLIAM. We see you sneaking around, corrupting our institutions; you uncorrupt those institutions right this second, Mister! Then go to your room, and by your room I mean prison. Forever.

Now Lou Dobbs is stumbling around, blitzed on hydroxychloroquine, screeching about the Deep State, but I’m sittin’ back, grinning like the cat that got the canary, slow-clapping for the well-timed W for the hard-workin’, suddenly-symbolic USPS.

The GOAT of Losing in Court further cemented his legacy with a pair of judicial nut-punches to the effort to keep his piss hooker budget, excuse me his “tax returns” secret. Can you imagine where we’d be right now if the Individual Wonder had put half the effort into combatting the coronavirus outbreak that he puts into running out the various prosecutorial clocks through procedural dawdling?

It’s wildfire season once again in California, meaning once again President Gas Station Urinal Cake is puffing out his chest and threatening to abandon countless suffering Americans, because they refuse to take his sage advice on (sigh) raking the ground in the forest. I must confess, when his malice collides with his imbecility like this, he achieves truly spectacular things in the field of anti-competence. The ability to approach a problem and not just fail to solve it, but to make it so much fucking worse, it’s…breathtaking.

And then Joe Biden strode confidently out before the cameras for the most important speech of his long life of service, no doubt grinning to himself, since he was about to effortlessly obliterate the opposing campaign’s entire strategy. “Sleepy and senile, am I?” Joe whispered, to no one in particular, before snapping the trap shut, dancing over the atom-high hurdles his opponents had, in their wisdom, strewn in his path.

Handsome Joe has, of course, always been a big-game player, and he rose to meet the moment, because that, dear reader, is how Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. rolls. He showed a weary America a good, strong, kind, capable man, ready to send the fascist roaches scuttling back to their dark corners, ready to restore decency, and move the country forward.

No wonder Hairplug Himmler responded with sad little squeaks about ordering law enforcement to monitor/menace polling places. Try it, old man. Call up your buddy Vlad and smuggle his whole fuckin’ army over in the dead of night. Won’t be enough.

Anyway, we’ve got the traditional white grievance ritual known as the Republican National Convention coming up next week. I can’t tell who’s actually speaking, I assume all the line-ups I’ve seen floating around the internet are spoofs or memes, they can’t possibly be real…oh fuck they’re totally real aren’t they?

Well, that’s all I got tonight, Shower Captives, hope you get a little rest in this weekend. Don’t forget to check out that Action Guide when you get a chance, and spread it around if you find it useful, we’re real proud of it. Stay safe out there!

*WHAT THE LIVING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? DO YOU HAVE FUCKING EYES?