Hey folks, Shower Cap got hit with the flu, so I’ve spent most of the time since our last update giving offerings to the Porcelain God. Anyway, it’s only been a couple of days, I couldn’t have missed much, right?

…never mind.

Ok, folks. Strap on your hazmat suit, we’ve got some sewage to wade through.

It’s always tough getting the kids to go back to school after winter break, and President Shartcannon is no exception. Fussy at having to work again, he tweeted the world perilously close to nuclear war, because his father never loved him and he’s not-so-secretly ashamed of every aspect of himself.

…especially his tiny, decayed, sputtering, wang.

Yes, he and Kim Jong-un squabbled over the length and girth of their nuclear buttons, as the world looked on, half horrified that the fate of all life on the planet rests in the hands of two cartoonishly spoiled adult toddlers, half darkly chuckling that perhaps this is what humanity deserves after all. Shit, if we’ve kept the Big Bang Theory on the air for more than a decade, let the missiles fly, says I.

There were other Tweets, of course. The Sunny D-Bag took credit for air safety, because he never met a positive headline he wasn’t happy to attribute to his own ill-defined powers. (I’m sure he’ll ask to be personally thanked when the McRib comes back.) He promised to give out awards for the Fakest Gnus (the Sharties?) on Monday night. But I suppose the one the threatening preemptive nuclear holocaust was probably the most newsworthy.

Oh, there was one amusing little bit of self-delusion, where the Velveeta Urinal Cake posited that Hispanic voters would somehow flock in droves to the man who unilaterally ended DACA, because…well, because He Said So in a Tweet. It’s amazing, in a way, that a man who never learned how to tie a necktie to an appropriate length should have such confidence in his own judgment.

Anyhoo. Everyone wish Orrin Hatch well; he’s announced his retirement from the institution whose standards he’s been lowering for longer than I’ve been alive; the United States Senate. Orrin wants to spend more time with the colonies of increasingly-sentient bacteria that live in the folds of his jowls.

Word on the mean streets of Salt Lake City is, this clears the way for one Willard Romney to claim the seat.  A few folks hopefully imagine he’ll be some sort of heroic figure, defiantly speaking truth to power, a rock for the Never Trump GOP to build their resurgent party upon!

I think the rest of us understand he’ll be what he’s always been. A haircut. Perpetually moving in whichever direction he perceives the wind to be blowing, and being wrong as often as not.

Senator Haircut. You heard it here first.

But hey, we may have Michele Bachmann to kick around again! Yes, the Madwoman of St. Cloud has her wide, jittery, eyes set on Al Franken’s Senate seat. Me, I think she’s just lookin’ for a new grift, since her Meth-Infused Communion Wafer business never really took off.*

Doug Jones and Tina Smith were sworn in as Senators, reducing the GOP majority to 51-49, and giving the Senate a record 22 female members. The obvious highlight would be the taunting laser death stare of Jones’ gay son, Carson directed towards Mike Pence, who was wearing three extra layers of ceremonial undergarments, fearing gay contamination. (Contamigaytion?)

Anyway, sources tell me Doug Jones’ Gay Son will be recording a freak-folk record with Roy Moore’s Jewish Lawyer, and they’ll be opening for Fleet Foxes this summer.

One of the most hotly divisive debates of the day is, of course, “Which Drumpf offspring is dumber, Junior or Eric?” For a long while, Junior’s bumbling treason attempts seemed to give him an insurmountable lead, but Eric surged from outta nowhere with an almost inconceivably-brain-dead rant about the “deep state” suggesting he follow Ellen Degeneres on Twitter.

Acting ICE director/Neckless Himmler Clone Thomas Homan posited that politicians in sanctuary cities should be prosecuted for “crimes” of some sort, and isn’t it always uplifting and fun to hear such a high-ranking law-enforcement official casually flinging around the idea of imprisoning political opponents for…”reasons?”

I tell ya, folks…when we get our government back, the first thing we need to do is clean out ICE from top to bottom like Augean Stables. Shit’s gettin’ a wee bit too fascist over there.

The folks at Fusion GPS published a feisty little editorial in the Failing New York Times calling out Boss Shart’s craven congressional enablers for their bullshit spin about the FBI basing their entire Russia investigation on Christopher Steele’s famous (piss) dossier. They challenged Congress to release the transcripts of their testimony, but I don’t see the GOP willingly consenting to the extra humiliation, do you?

Senator Dianne Feinstein says she wants to talk to Drumpf Social Media Dude Dan Scavino, as she’s recently received new information regarding his possible contacts with th’Russians during the campaign. This will inevitably raise questions like “What kind of shithead makes his fucking GOLF CADDY a major communications figure on a Presidential campaign?”

Well Michael Wolff has a new book coming out, and it’s so hawt it may as well be called Harry Potter and the Gaggle of Assclowns.

I guess Team Shart gave this Wolff fella, a dude with a known history of completely eviscerating his book subjects (See Murdoch, Rupert) free reign to just…hang out in the White House for a year, to watch them stumble around, ripping into each other, like laboratory mice testing out the rage virus from 28 Days Later.

There’s some charming stuff about the President’s hobbies (trying to fuck his “friends'” wives), and how he never wanted the dumb old job in the first place. But mostly it details the group of amoral goons, swarming around like flies on a pile of shit, just trying to grab whatever they could before the whole thing blows up in everyone’s faces.

So, a reckless man-child manipulated by malicious, power-warped, fuckheads. I suppose we should be grateful no world wars have broken out.

Oh, and there was a some stuff about Steve Bannon in it, I think. Is that right?

Oh right. He referred to Shartboy, Jr as “treasonous,” and rambled a bit about all the money-laundering that would eventually bring the whole House of Crackers (coming this fall to Netflix) crashing down.

And since then Bannon has been…Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like this. Defenestrated. Then thrown directly under The Bus, which in this case is some sort of Fury Road apocalyptic demon bus with spiky tires, which then dragged Bannon to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, which was then drained, so that the earth could be salted, all while Mitch McConnell grinned his little turtle ass off.

Littlefinger said his old Chief Strategist had “lost his mind.” Mamma Mercer cut off Steve-O’s allowance (even, hilariously, for his security detail). Everyone he’s ever endorsed is running away from him as though he had the plague. (Er, a different plague than whatever it is that makes him look like a BEN-HUR leper, that is.) Shit, even the Breitbart board is looking at firing his coated-with-an-eerily-viscous-substance ass.

All I’m saying is, when you see that oozy man sitting by the side of the freeway, wearing 11 shirts, holding a sign that says “Will scream ‘cuck’ at libtards for food,” take a moment out of your day…and pee on him.

Reached for comment, Bannon would only emit a terrible, high-pitched yelp, an unholy sound tinged with an evil so ancient it hadn’t been heard on this Earth since the Old Gods were young, shattering not only glass, but ceramic tile, LCD screens, and in one instance a marble sculpture of the Virgin Mary. The reporter on the call, it need hardly be said, has gone…quite mad.

Oh well. At least the shitstorm allowed our ol’ pal The Mooch to squeeze one more brushful out of the toothpaste tube of his notoriety.

Anyway, it looks like America’s Two Bloated Racist Goon Dads have finally split up. Donnie sent Steve a cease and desist letter. Bannon threatened to sue for defamation. They’ll be battling for custody of Stephen Miller’s forehead in court for the foreseeable future.

Oh, and the Poo Mistake had his lawyers send one of his trademarked Empty Threat letters to the publisher, who responded by pushing the publishing date up to…tomorrow. CUCKED BY A BOOK!

Meanwhile, Trapped Rat Paul Manafort figured he may as well try suing Rowdy Roddy Rosenstein, Bashful Bob Mueller, and the whole dang DoJ, on the novel “Just because I laundered a bunch of money doesn’t mean you can indict me for money-laundering, it’s out of your jurisdiction!” grounds, a move likely aimed more at frothing up the Benghazi/Pizzagate crowd than actually succeeding in court, because that is just how we do things now.

Poor KKKris KKKobach! He thought he’d finally found his Manic Pixie Dream Despot, the vehicle by which he could finally bleach the electorate back to the 19th century! But alas, his Kooky Kulling Kommission, drowning in lawsuit and humiliating headlines, with almost every state-level election official telling him where he could stick his unconstitutional voter requests, was disbanded by executive order.

KKKobach will return in shame to Kansas, to run for governor, and to half-heartedly file voter fraud cases against mostly confused old white people, perhaps burning the odd cross on the occasional lawn, looking to stir up feelings of the glory days that almost were, like some sort of shitty white supremacist Springsteen.

Apparently worried that they’re just too dang popular, the Shart Administration decided to come down squarely on the opposite side of public opinion of a couple of high-profile issues: the off-shore drilling and the REEFER MADNESS.

Ol’ Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III never met an excuse to throw young minorities into prison that he didn’t like, so he decided to strut and squawk about going after marijuana users in states where recreational, or even medical pot is legal.

Now, Sessions has long been a champion of states’ rights, so what gives? “Oh naw, y’all don’ understand,” cooed the Attorney General, “States’ rights jus’ means laws about who’s allowed to own who else, or who gets to drink at which water fountains and what have you.”

Oh, and the offshore drilling? Sharty McFly wants it EVERYWHERE. Tourism-based economy reliant on beachgoers? How’d you like a few unsightly, smog-belching rigs? Environmental concerns? What’s a lil’ ol’ oil spill now and then so long as a few billionaires get richer?

Noted Child Molester Roy Moore still hasn’t conceded the Alabama Senate race, but he did pick up a little consolation prize: a defamation lawsuit! See, Roy figured he’d be fine if he just smeared his past victims as liars. They’re only women-folk after all!  Well, Leigh Corfman ain’t havin’ that shit. Have a blast in court, jackass.

And what’s this? A late-breaking story sez the Misshapen Play-Doh Manatee ordered Don McGahn to talk Jeff Sessions out of recusing himself from the Russia investigation? Oooooooweeeeee. It’s beginning to look a lot like OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE!

Shit, the President’s lawyers were even apparently lying to him about his authority to fire Comey. Drumpf himself seems to be the last person to realize what an epic self-own that was. Oh well. Enjoy your impeachment.

Alright, my friends. I may’ve missed some stuff today. The cold medicine makes me loopy. I may’ve hallucinated half of this. Wouldn’t that be nice?

*That’s what you get for going into business with Curt Schilling.