поздравления, comrades! Operation Jade Helm VIII: Joy Buzzer succeeded beyond our wildest imaginings, and soon, we shall deliver these hapless “United States” into the tan suit-clad arms of our DEI hire and a mere assistant coach! Muah hah hah hah hee hee ho ho hah hah!

…hoo.

Yeah, for four whole days without a single pro wrestler, it went okay, I guess. I understand Melania has already plagiarized Obama’s dick joke for that eulogy she’s been restlessly tinkering with.

It was such an exuberant display of unity for the Coalition of the Decent, from Bernie to Kinzinger and back again, you just know Mike Pence turned to Mother to ask if she thought it would be a good idea to reach out to the Exonerated Five about starting some sort of Guys Donald Trump Tried to Murder euchre league.

It’s a great big beautiful tent, and all are welcome…except the HAW HAW HAW TIM WALZ’S KID HAS EMOTIONS WHATTA CUCK crowd. Y’all have to go to the other tent. I wouldn’t drink the water.

You can’t miss it, it’s the one full of mediocre white dudes pitching fits. It can be hard to tell ‘em apart, so I’ll give you a hand: the runty little weasel screeching that the Obamas are “uppity” is Nick Fuentes, whereas the smug creep with the projectile Dunning–Kruger effect trying to make birtherism happen? That’s Jesse Watters. Just laugh derisively whenever anybody mentions Doritos, and you’ll blend right in.

Aren’t you glad you’re not MAGA? Isn’t it wonderful to possess no desire whatsoever to mock a neurodivergent teenager for (gasp) expressing affection for his father? Fuck it, having seen so many stumble over the lowest imaginable hurdles, I’m gonna strut my basic humanity from here on out. “Yeah, not only did I never make a single Paul Pelosi hammer joke, my body’s sixty percent water! My fingernails grow constantly, and I voted against the wannabe autocrat all three times!”

Still, amidst the positivity and patriotism, I would be remiss in my duties if I failed to note the one demographic explicitly marked for exclusion under a Harris/Walz regime: Rapist, Insurrectionist Game Show Hosts. In a Harris Administration, RIGSH-Americans would be denied their right to engage in their people’s most sacred traditions, from violently overturning the elections they lose, to rape.

Why, mere weeks ago, one of our nation’s leading Rapist, Insurrectionist Game Show Hosts fantasized openly about the crime spree that lay ahead in the wake of the constitutional blank check issued by the Roberts Court; now, he’s been reduced to trolling the wingnut media bubble for television personalities to tag along on his proposed Venezuelan exile.

Even with the polls and forecast models moving in Kamala’s favor, (and I doubt he’s getting an answer he likes from his Mirror Mirror Who’s the Fairest bit, either) you know it’s the massive L in the ratings war that’s reduced him to a blubbering mess, ineffectually mashing the buttons on his phone with those tiny, inadequate fingers, while Fox Nooz hosts insist they can’t talk right now, they’re washing their hair.

Little did the unsuspecting libtards realize their precious convention had been infiltrated by a crack squad of MAGA Mata Haris, led by masters of disguise Matt Walsh and Mike Lindell, who wound up ensnared in one another’s respective honey traps, a tangle of starched flannel and shoddily-manufactured bedding discovered necking in a dumpster behind the Billy Goat Tavern.

(Don’t worry, before departing for his clandestine tryst, Mike obtained permission from the 12-year-old who owned him earlier in the day.)

Well, the once promising RFK Jr. op had devolved into a Wile E. Coyote-esque ratfuck boomerang, so the GOP called Bobby & his Brainworm home. In between bites of the raccoon he ran over on the way to the press conference, the weird sheep of America’s most famous political dynasty offered extended musings on the age at which girls reach puberty, in addition to his endorsement of the Dotard, which’ll look great on the mantel, between Kid Rock’s and Catturd’s.

No wonder these clowns remain so thoroughly flummoxed by Coach Walz’s normcore playbook. The swiftboating revival closed out of town, so the new smear is that he’s a sleeper agent for the Chinese Communist Party, because he got married on the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre, y’see, which admittedly explains the tank-shaped wedding cake bearing down on the petit fours personalized with each guest’s name.

In contrast, walking MAGA monkeypaw JD Vance keeps shambling through a grotesque anti-campaign that’s barely an imploding drummer shy of a Spinal Tap outtake. Looks like all those long hours of Normal Human Donut Ordering prep were for naught, alas, but honestly, who could be expected to navigate such a fraught social interaction without earning a restraining order or two?

Rudy Giuliani and Donnie One-Term himself are “invited guest speakers” at the “J6 Awards Gala” taking place next month at Bedpisser, the tacky golf resort which somehow has yet to be seized by law enforcement. The race for “most damning evidence uploaded to a terrorist’s own social media account” category is particularly competitive this year.

Y’know, there was a time when getting a law degree, representing a domestic terror group, fucking one of the terrorists, and advising the others to destroy evidence ahead of their seditious conspiracy trial was a reliable path to the middle class in this country. As Kellye SoRelle’ll tell ya, those days have gone the way of Mayberry and Crystal Pepsi. (In the distance, a bald eagle caws a mournful caw.)

Now that his buddy Poots sold him out on that whole hostage exchange thing, word is Off-Brand Orbán’s been begging Bibi through back channels to reject any ceasefire deals, because I guess when you’ve got 34 felony convictions with 54 more queued up, what’s a violation of the Logan Act, more or less?

A Trump-appointed federal judge in Kansas was feeling frisky, and decided to invent a constitutional right to own a machine gun. Now, in Federalist No. 10, James Madison talks extensively of the awesomeness of the Grand Theft Auto franchise, so I think this one will hold up on appeal.

House Republicans finally released their sad, flaccid Biden impeachment report, which found exactly zero impeachable offenses, but recommended impeachment anyway, if only for the sake of poor, dumb Jimmy Comer’s mom, who hasn’t had anything to put up on the fridge since that finger painting of a duck driving a bulldozer, which turned out to be stolen from another kid’s cubby.

Well, after federal law enforcement rejected his initial offer of the key to Anthony Devolder’s safety deposit box in Medellín, George Santos pleaded guilty to a couple of felonies, as if any prison could hold him. As for the issue of whether or not he’ll be allowed to sew a fake collar into his jumpsuit, SCOTUS will hear arguments next March.

Hulk Hogan dropped a leg on his public rehabilitation efforts with a drunken, racist rant in which he offered to “body slam” Vice President Harris, no doubt costing himself a speaking slot at the 2028 RNC, and, more importantly, the accompanying 20 dollar gift card to the buffet at the casino slated to host, which was a big part of the Hulkster’s retirement plan.

Maria Bartiromo heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who heard it from another Texas has been messing around with registering undocumented immigrants to vote, which is, of course, nowhere close to true. Now, if Maria worked for a reputable news organization, she’d be under the gun, possibly even forced to take it on the run, but she doesn’t, so I imagine she’ll keep on ridin’ the storm out. I imagine these REO Speedwagon jokes aren’t landing, so I believe it’s time for me to fly.

Before I sign off, I’d like to welcome the blog’s newest sponsor: meet TRUMPY TROUT, the hot new animatronic male masturbator taking Cult45 by storm! 9 out of 10 incels say “Close enough, although how the fuck would I know?”

Of course, as longtime readers know, Shower Cap’s Blog is actually brought to you by BEER. And while the celebratory beers of August have been far sweeter than the Holy Fuck We’re All Going to Die beers of June, the liquor store still stubbornly insists upon payment.

Make no mistake, I’m prepared to turn to a life of crime if necessary, but relying upon the kind generosity of the readership seems safer. The tip jar now accepts Venmo, PayPal AND Cash App, so pick yer poison. And as ever, sharing this post on social media, following @john_luzar, and signing up on the email list at showercapblog.com are free! Stay safe out there, me hearties…

P.S., I think we should all just act like Beyoncé did show up, and put on a killer show. We’re allowed to gaslight them for a change. Just say Elon blocked it because she made up a little impromptu song about all the money he lost on Twitter.