You guys, it is so beautiful out today. One of the maybe three mathematically perfect spring days Chicago gets per year. Weather that cries out for day drinking. But alas, I must remain faithful to the vow I made to the original, Golden Age Shower Cap, when he bequeathed unto me his bathrobe and luchador mask, as he lay dying in my arms. “Fuckery must be chronicled,” he whispered. I have no idea how the notary even got there.

So, Fat Q*bert took the first physical of his second desecration, weighing in at a svelte 224 lbs, somehow even lither than the days when “Candyman” Ronny Jackson did the measurin’. No doubt you’re skeptical, but I think it’s plausible, assuming they caught him on one of those days when he misses half his face with the ol’ makeup sponge.

Oh, and he took another cognitive test. It was touch and go there for a minute, that drawing of a horsey really had him stumped, but the doctor, eager to avoid an unplanned vacation to El Salvador, gave him seventeen guesses. And thus did Dear Leader triumph again. Golf, identifying pictures of animals, is there anything he can’t do? (Outside of lowering grocery prices, bringing peace to Ukraine…you know what, forget I asked.)

To me, Donald Trump’s positively pompous post-cognitive-test swagger is…how do I put this? It’s the voice of God himself laughing directly at us. After all these years, he still sincerely believes that a standardized screening for cerebral trauma is some sort of IQ test, and that “acing” one means he’s one of the smartest people alive.

Look at him. Just look. He’s downright condescending about it. About passing a cognitive test.

Like, of course he doesn’t understand how tariffs work. It would be cruel to expect that of him, like asking an emu to play Rachmaninoff.

Struts around the OVAL FUCKING OFFICE in front of the tinpot twerp running his extrajudicial torture camp, bragging about “person, woman, man, camera, TV” like he split the motherfucking atom, and we made him PRESIDENT.

TWICE.

In fact, the hawt topic at the very center of our political discourse right now is the choice, between maintaining the constitutional order that’s made us the freest, wealthiest, most advanced civilization in human history, and throwing it all away in favor of surrendering to the authoritarian whims of game show host who can imagine no higher intellectual feat than counting backwards by sevens.

If America is to persevere, the argument goes, state police must be permitted to not only snatch whosoever strikes their fancy right off the fucking streets, not only deport the poor bastard without a whiff of due process, but deport him to a hellhole on foreign soil, irreversibly beyond the reach of American law.

There’s only one rule in this system: absolutely no take backs. So if you happen to find your way to this particular gulag by mistake, if in fact the entire dang Supreme Court unanimously rules that you must be returned to the United States, well…c’est la tyrannie!

To drive this point home, Off-Brand Orbán invited his prison subcontractor (skeezy little creep called Bukele, he has a day job…shoe salesman, or third-rate strongman, I can never remember which) into the Oval to wink, cackle, and gaslight about their alleged powerlessness to unfuck an unjustly imprisoned man’s life. Blocked the AP from the event, too, because why violate just one court order at a time?

The plan to get around that unanimous SCOTUS ruling, by the way, mostly amounts to Stephen Miller loudly pretending it says the opposite of what it actually does. “They also ruled that my spray-on hair was not only convincing, but objectively hot, so much so that Alito briefly reconsidered his lifelong opposition to gay rights. Anyway, if no one minds, we’ll just get back to kidnapping people based on charges we understand in advance to be fraudulent.”

Y’know what? I do mind. I mind that you’re ordering American citizens to “self-deport.” I mind that you’re detaining American citizens, even after seeing their birth certificates. I mind that you’re so desperate to destroy the rule of law in my country that you’ve turned the full force of your multi-billion-dollar propaganda machine against Kilmar Abrego Garcia. (He’s No Angel™️ you know.)

…though I’ll admit I’m enjoying watching y’all botch the job. The best the Man Who Fears Soup could muster was accusing Abrego Garcia of faking his Bulls fandom, while all El Salvador’s finest could come up with was a lamely staged photo, suggesting he isn’t in a torture prison at all, but rather “Sipping Margaritas With Sen. Van Hollen in the Tropical Paradise.”

All I’m saying is, I refuse to lose my democracy to people this dumb.

President Rapist then turned his shifty little weasel eyes towards Harvard, issuing a list of demands, like installing Ron Vara as head of the Department of Economics, 25% tariffs on all words of three or more syllables, plus plenty of White Guy DEI.

Harvard said, “Eat my ivy ass,” hopefully loud enough for a few “Big Law” firms to hear. And so the federal government immediately launched a multi-front assault on one of the nation’s leading universities. DHS, DoE, IRS, funding pulled, research cancelled, tax-exempt status threatened, and it ain’t even the most totalitarian thing these fucks pulled THIS WEEK.

We can’t afford cancer research, or routine FDA food safety inspections, or FEMA aid, or OSHA field offices, or Head Start, or white collar crime enforcement, or Medicaid, but when it comes to bringing a world-renowned educational institution to heel, well, spare no expense.

Plus, don’t forget we’re saving up for that clownishly unnecessary missile shield. It’s called the “Golden Dome,” (because of course it is) and you’ll never, ever guess who the frontrunner to land the contract is.

The Wall Street Journal dragged us down the rabbit hole, through the twilight zone, and halfway up the Nietzschean abyss’ colon, via a deep dive into the reproductive habits of one Elon Musk. Long (and, I’d add, revolting) story short, we don’t know exactly how many little Elons are running around, because nobody knows how many DMs he’s slid into, with that famous TELL ME WHAT IT WILL COST ME TO MAKE A BABY WITH YOU charm.

The Failing New York Times reports certain American law firms are beginning to regret all the complying in advance with that one autocrat who, it turns out, was not satiated with just one week’s lunch money. Yeah, I imagine when your voice mail fills up with requests for legal justifications for wars of aggression against NATO allies, doubts creep in.

Former Congressman Billy Long sure is a lucky fella. Wouldja believe he had a six-figure campaign debt paid off, just like that? And by donors with outstanding business before the Internal Revenue Service, which, wouldn’tcha know it, just happens to be the very organization he’s been nominated to lead! Gosh, you should buy a lottery ticket, Billy!

Hey, speaking of the draindest of all possible swamps, seems Warner Bros. Discovery was advised to give Don Jr. a hunting show, as a little bribe, to avoid the CBS treatment. A reboot of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?, hosted by Eric, was nixed during the first taping, for reasons which I imagine are entirely obvious.

Once upon a time, Tangerine Idi Amin declared he could end the war between Russia and Ukraine “in 24 hours.” Now, a little more than 2,000 hours into his term, he’s decided it’s hard and he’s bored and nobody’s even making a challenge coin so he’d much rather golf. Perhaps someday, he’ll share the secrets of his deal-making prowess with the world. Say, he could write a book.

Pam Bondi announced the Justice Department will seek mandatory minimum sentences of three years for anyone who gives a Tesla dealership a negative Yelp review, but she’s not sure a dude trying to burn Governor Josh Shapiro and his family alive in their home on the first night of Passover counts as “terrorism.”

In fairness, as Republican Congressjerk Dan Meuser pointed out, Shapiro brought it on himself. If you don’t want hammer-wielding psychopaths showing up on your doorstep with murderous intent, simply accept the descent of your nation into fascism in respectful silence.

“Autism destroys families,” proclaimed the nation’s highest-ranking health official, in a drool-soaked rant that embarrassed even his cranial parasites. “These are kids who will never pay taxes,” RFK Jr. bellowed, “Who will never know the sweet, subtle pleasures of decapitating a found whale carcass!”Well, I imagine he’ll have everything figured out by that self-imposed September deadline, don’t you?

Oh, if anybody in the United States Senate happens to be reading this, would-be US Attorney Ed Martin wanted me to explain some things he left off his resumé. See, Ed took a sort of “gap year,” just to, y’know, find himself. Went surfing a bunch, wrote a couple songs for a glitch hop album that never quite came together, did a little light Russian propaganda, just, like, I dunno, 150 RT hits or so, no big deal. Thanks for understanding.

Lisa Murkowski spoke movingly about the fear of retaliation she experiences under the rule of the (checks notes) head of her own political party. Wow. She should call her Senator.

A National Labor Relations Board whistleblower says Elon’s incel brigade not only smuggled a bunch of confidential data out, but left the door open for “an IP address in Russia.” Nice to see everyone taking information security so seriously, post-Signalgate.

Although I suppose I should also mention that thing where “the Pentagon has put two Defense Department officials on administrative leave pending an investigation into an unauthorized disclosure,” and now Hegseth’s chief of staff is gone, too. Gee, I hope there’s still a warm body or two left in the highest echelons of our national security apparatus that can pass Laura Loomer’s exacting loyalty test, because we’ve got an island to conquer, guys!

Lutnick says the tariff exemptions announced last week are only temporary, so don’t worry, your next phone’ll be more expensive after all. On the other hand, the Dotard himself insists there will be no exemptions, despite the aforementioned exemptions announcement. The Dow lost another 2.7% this week, maybe because there’s just too much certainty, or because “egg prices are getting too low.”

Vice President JD Vance broke a football trophy, providing an amusing diversion from his otherwise relentless assault on our fundamental freedoms. Hey, have you heard how JD fucks couc-hang on, there’s a SWAT team at my door, demanding proof of citizenship, brb.

Incidentally, I’m told the craft beer selection at CECOT is lousy, so I’m trying to get as much drinkin’ in as possible, while I still can. If you enjoyed this tirade, feel free to toss a few bucks into my beer fund, (now accepting PayPal, Venmo, and Cash App!) follow @john_luzar, and/or sign up on the email list at showercapblog.com. And stay safe out there, old chum…as long as that’s an option on the table, anyway…